[She takes it up, looks on it, and smiles.
Queen. How now, what makes you merry?
Ast. A small discovery I have made, madam.
Queen. Of what?
Ast. Since first your majesty graced Philocles, I have not heard him named for any mistress, But now this picture has convinced me.
Queen. Ha! let me see it.— [Snatches it from her. Candiope, prince Lysimantes' sister!
Ast. Your favour, madam, may encourage him,—
And yet he loves in a high place for him:
A princess of the blood; and, what is more,
Beyond comparison the fairest lady
Our isle can boast.
Queen. How!—she the fairest Beyond comparison!—'Tis false! you flatter her; She is not fair.
Ast. I humbly beg forgiveness on my knees, If I offended you:—But next yours, madam, Which all must yield to.
Queen. I pretend to none.