RHODOPHIL returns again immediately, and with him enter HERMOGENES, LEONIDAS, and PALMYRA.

Behold two miracles!

[Looking earnestly on LEON. and PALMYRA. Of different sexes, but of equal form: So matchless both, that my divided soul Can scarcely ask the gods a son or daughter, For fear of losing one. If from your hands, You powers, I shall this day receive a daughter, Argaleon, she is yours; but, if a son,

Then Amalthea's love shall make him happy. Arga. Grant, heaven, this admirable nymph may prove

That issue, which he seeks!

Amal. Venus Urania, if thou art a goddess, Grant that sweet youth may prove the prince of Sicily!

Poly. Tell me, old man, and tell me true, from

whence

Had you that youth and maid?

Her. From whence you had

[TO HERM.

Your sceptre, sir: I had them from the gods.

Poly. The gods then have not such another gift. Say who their parents were.

Her. My wife, and I.

Arga. It is not likely, a virgin, of so excellent a beauty,

Should come from such a stock.

Amal. Much less, that such a youth, so sweet, so graceful,

Should be produced from peasants.

Her. Why, nature is the same in villages, And much more fit to form a noble issue,

Where it is least corrupted.

Poly. He talks too like a man that knew the world,

To have been long a peasant. But the rack
Will teach him other language.

Hence with him! [As the Guards are carrying him away, his peruke falls off.

Sure I have seen that face before. Hermogenes! "Tis he, 'tis he, who fled away with Eubulus, And with my dear Eudoxia.

Her. Yes, sir, I am Hermogenes; And if to have been loyal be a crime, I stand prepared to suffer.

Poly. If thou would'st live, speak quickly,
What is become of my Eudoxia?

Where is the queen and young Theagenes?
Where Eubulus? and which of these is mine?

[Pointing to LEON. and PALM. Her. Eudoxia is dead, só is the queen,

The infant king, her son, and Eubulus.
Poly. Traitor, 'tis false: Produce them, or
Her. Once more

I tell you, they are dead; but leave to threaten,
For you shall know no further.

Poly. Then prove indulgent to my hopes, and be My friend for ever. Tell me, good Hermogenes,

Whose son is that brave youth?

Her. Sir, he is yours.

Poly. Fool that I am! thou see'st that so I wish it,

And so thou flatter'st me.

Her. By all that's holy!

Poly. Again. Thou canst not swear too deeply.Yet hold, I will believe thee :-Yet I doubt. Her. You need not, sir.

Arga. Believe him not; he sees you credulous, And would impose his own base issue on you, And fix it to your crown.

Amal. Behold his goodly shape and feature, sir; Methinks he much resembles you.

Arga. I say, if you have any issue here, It must be that fair creature ;

By all my hopes I think so.

Amal. Yes, brother, I believe you by your hopes, For they are all for her.

Poly. Call the youth nearer,

Her. Leonidas, the king would speak with you. Poly. Come near, and be not dazzled with the splendour,

And greatness of a court.

Leon. I need not this encouragement;
I can fear nothing but the gods.
And, for this glory, after I have seen
The canopy of state spread wide above
In the abyss of heaven, the court of stars,
The blushing morning, and the rising sun,
What greater can I see?

Poly. This speaks thee born a prince; thou art, thyself,

[Embracing him, That rising sun, and shalt not see, on earth,

A brighter than thyself. All of you witness,
That for my son I here receive this youth,
This brave, this but I must not praise him fur-
ther,

Because he now is mine.

Leon. I wo'not, sir, believe That I am made your sport;

[Kneeling,

For I find nothing in myself, but what
Is much above a scorn. I dare give credit
To whatsoe'er a king, like you, can tell me.
Either I am, or will deserve to be, your son.
Arga. I yet maintain it is impossible

This young man should be yours; for, if he were,
Why should Hermogenes so long conceal him,
When he might gain so much by his discovery?
Her. I staid a while to make him worthy, sir,
[To the King,

Of you.

But in that time I found

Somewhat within him, which so moved my love, I never could resolve to part with him.

Leon. You ask too many questions, and are

Too saucy for a subject.

[To ARGA.

Arga. You rather over-act your part, and are Too soon a prince.

Leon. Too soon you'll find me one.

Poly. Enough, Argaleon!

I have declared him mine; and you, Leonidas,
Live well with him I love.

Arga. Sir, if he be your son, I may have leave To think your queen had twins. Look on this virgin;

Hermogenes would enviously deprive you
Of half your treasure.

Her. Sir, she is my daughter.

I could, perhaps, thus aided by this lord,
Prefer her to be yours; but truth forbid
I should procure her greatness by a lie!

Poly. Come hither, beauteous maid: Are you not

sorry

Your father will not let you pass for mine?

Palm. I am content to be what heaven has made

me.

Poly. Could you not wish yourself a princess then?

Palm. Not to be sister to Leonidas.

Poly. Why, my sweet maid?

Palm. Indeed I cannot tell;

But I could be content to be his handmaid.
Arga. I wish I had not seen her.

Palm. I must weep for your good fortune;

Pray, pardon me, indeed I cannot help it.
Leonidas,-alas! I had forgot,

[Aside.

[To LEON.

Now I must call you prince,--but must I leave

you?

Leon. I dare not speak to her; for, if I should,

I must weep too.

Poly. No, you

cence,

[Aside.

shall live at court, sweet inno

And see him there. Hermogenes,

Though you intended not to make me happy,
Yet you shall be rewarded for the event.
Come, my Leonidas, let's thank the gods;
Thou for a father, I for such a son.

[Exeunt all but LEON. and PALM. Leon. My dear Palmyra, many eyes observe me, And I have thoughts so tender, that I cannot In public speak them to you: Some hours hence, I shall shake off these crowds of fawning courtiers, And then[Exit LEON Palm. Fly swift, you hours! you measure time for me in vain,

'Till you bring back Leonidas again.

Be shorter now; and, to redeem that wrong,

When he and I are met, be twice as long!

[Exit.

ACT II. SCENE I.

Enter MELANTHA and PHILOTIS,

Phil. Count Rhodophil's a fine gentleman in deed, madam; and, I think, deserves your affection. Mel. Let me die but he's a fine man; he sings and dances en François, and writes the billets doux to a miracle.

Phil. And those are no small talents, to a lady