_Dor._ You are an admirer of the dull French poetry, which is so thin, that it is the very leaf-gold of wit, the very wafers and whip'd cream of sense, for which a man opens his mouth, and gapes, to swallow nothing: And to be an admirer of such profound dulness, one must be endowed with a great perfection of impudence and ignorance. _Pala._ Let me embrace thee most vehemently. _Mel._ I'll sacrifice my life for French poetry. [_Advancing._ _Dor._ I'll die upon the spot for our country wit. _Rho._ [_to_ MELANTHA.] Hold, hold, young Mars! Palamede, draw back your hero. _Pala._ 'Tis time; I shall be drawn in for a second else at the wrong weapon. _Mel._ O that I were a man, for thy sake! _Dor._ You'll be a man as soon as I shall. _Enter a Messenger to_ RHODOPHIL. _Mess._ Sir, the king has instant business with you; I saw the guard drawn up by your lieutenant, Before the palace-gate, ready to march. _Rho._ 'Tis somewhat sudden; say that I am coming. [_Exit Messenger._ Now, Palamede, what think you of this sport? This is some sudden tumult; will you along? _Pala._ Yes, yes, I will go; but the devil take me if ever I was less in humour. Why the pox could they not have staid their tumult till to-morrow? Then I had done my business, and been ready for them. Truth is, I had a little transitory crime to have committed first; and I am the worst man in the world at repenting, till a sin be thoroughly done: But what shall we do with the two boys? _Rho._ Let them take a lodging in the house, 'till the business be over. _Dor._ What, lie with a boy? For my part, I own it, I cannot endure to lie with a boy. _Pala._ The more's my sorrow, I cannot accommodate you with a better bed-fellow. _Mel._ Let me die, if I enter into a pair of sheets with him that hates the French. _Dor._ Pish, take no care for us, but leave us in the streets; I warrant you, as late as it is, I'll find my lodging as well as any drunken bully of them all. _Rho._ I'll light in mere revenge, and wreak my passion, On all that spoil this hopeful assignation. [_Aside._ _Pala._ I'm sure we light in a good quarrel: Rogues may pretend religion, and the laws; But a kind mistress is the good old cause. [_Exuent._ SCENE V. _Enter_ PALMYRA, EUBULUS, _and_ HERMOGENES. _Palm._ You tell me wonders; that Leonidas Is prince Theagenes, the late king's son. _Eub._ It seems as strange to him, as now to you, Before I had convinced him; but, besides His great resemblance to the king his father, The queen his mother lives, secured by me In a religious house, to whom, each year, I brought the news of his increasing virtues. My last long absence from you both was caused By wounds, which in my journey I received, When set upon by thieves; I lost those jewels And letters, which your dying mother left.