_Palm._ Farewell, my last Leonidas; yet live, I charge you, live, 'till you believe me dead. I cannot die in peace, if you die first; If life's a blessing, you shall have it last. _Poly._ Go on with her, and lead him after me. _Enter_ ARGALEON _hastily, with_ HERMOGENES. _Arga._ I bring you, sir, such news as must amaze you, And such as will prevent you from an action, Which would have rendered all your life unhappy. [HERMOGENES _kneels._ _Poly._ Hermogenes, you bend your knees in vain, My doom's already past. _Her._ I kneel not for Palmyra, for I know She will not need my prayers; but for myself: With a feigned tale I have abused your ears, And, therefore, merit death: but since, unforced, I first accuse myself, I hope your mercy. _Poly._ Haste to explain your meaning. _Her._ Then, in few words, Palmyra is your daughter. _Poly._ How can I give belief to this impostor? He, who has once abused me, often may. I'll hear no more. _Arga._ For your own sake, you must. _Her._ A parent's love,--for I confess my crime,-- Moved me to say, Leonidas was yours; But when I heard Palmyra was to die, The fear of guiltless blood so stung my conscience, That I resolved, even with my shame, to save Your daughter's life. _Poly._ But how can I be certain, but that interest, Which moved you first to say your son was mine, Does not now move you too, to save your daughter? _Her._ You had but then my word; I bring you now Authentic testimonies. Sir, in short, [_Delivers on his knees a jewel, and letter._ If this will not convince you, let me suffer. _Poly._ I know this jewel well; 'twas once my mother's, [_Looking first on the jewel._ Which, marrying, I presented to my wife. And this, O this is my Eudocia's hand. _This was the pledge of love given to Eudocia,_ [Reads. _Who, dying, to her young Palmyra leaves it;_ _And this, when you, my dearest lord, receive, Own her, and think on me, dying Eudocia._ Take it; 'tis well there is no more to read. [_To_ ARGA. My eyes grow full, and swim in their own light. [_He embraces_ PALM. _Palm._ I fear, sir, this is your intended pageant. You sport yourself at poor Palmyra's cost; But if you think to make me proud, Indeed I cannot be so: I was born With humble thoughts, and lowly, like my birth. A real fortune could not make me haughty, Much less a feigned. _Poly._ This was her mother's temper. I have too much deserved thou shouldst suspect That I am not thy father; but my love Shall henceforth show I am. Behold my eyes, And see a father there begin to flow: This is not feigned, Palmyra. _Palm._ I doubt no longer, sir; you are a king, And cannot lie: Falsehood's a vice too base To find a room in any royal breast. I know, in spite of my unworthiness, I am your child; for when you would have killed me, Methought I loved you then. _Arga._ Sir, we forget the prince Leonidas; His greatness should not stand neglected thus.