BEL.  Madame, the cause induc’t me to transforme my selfe,
                Proceeded from a respective modest
                Affection I bare to my my Lord,
                The Prince Phylaster, to do him service,
                As farre from any lacivious thought,
                As that Lady is farre from goodnesse,
                And if my true intents may be beleeved,
                And from your Highnesse Madame, pardon finde,
                You have the truth.

PRIN.  I doe beleeve thee, Bellario I shall call thee still.

PHI.  The faithfullest servant that ever gave attendance.

LEON.  Now Lady lust, what say you to’th boy now;
                Doe you hang the head, do ye, shame would steale
                Into your face, if ye had grace to entertaine it,
                Do ye slinke away?

[ Exit MEGRA hiding her face,

KING.  Give present order she be banisht the Court,
                And straightly confinde till our further
                Pleasure is knowne.

PHAR.  Heres such an age of transformation, that I doe not
                know how to trust my selfe, I’le get me gone to:  Sir,
                the disparagement you have done, must be cald in
                question.  I have power to right my selfe, and will.

[ Exit PHARAMONT.

KING.  We feare ye not Sir.

PHI.  Let a strong convoy guard him through the Kingdome,
                With him, let’s part with all our cares and feare,
                And Crowne with joy our happy loves successe.

KING.  Which to make more full, Lady Gallatea,
                Let honour’d Clerimont acceptance finde
                In your chast thoughts.

PHI.  Tis my sute too.

PRIN.  Such royall spokes-men must not be deni’d.

GAL.  Nor shall not, Madame.

KING.  Then thus I joyne your hands.

GAL.  Our hearts were knit before.
                                                        [ They kisse.

PHI.  But tis you Lady, must make all compleat,
                And gives a full perod to content,
                Let your loves cordiall againe revive,
                The drooping spirits of noble Trasiline. 
                What saies Lord Leon to it?

LEON.  Marry my Lord I say, I know she once lov’d him. 
                At least made shew she did,
                But since tis my Lord Phylasters desire,
                I’le make a surrender of all the right
                A father has in her; here take her sir,
                With all my heart, and heaven give you joy.

KING.  Then let us in these nuptuall feastes to hold,
                Heaven hath decreed, and Fate stands uncontrold.