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. [Aside.