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 [To HERM.  Had you that youth and maid?

Her. From whence you had 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, so 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.