Thence to Seriphus with the head he sails, Whose prince his story treats as idle tales: Lord of a little isle, he scorns to seem Too credulous, but laughs at that and him; Yet did he not so much suspect the truth, As, out of pride or envy, hate the youth. The Argive prince, at his contempt enraged, To force his faith by fatal proof engaged: “Friends, shut your eyes,” he cries: his shield he takes, And to the king exposed Medusa’s snakes: The monarch felt the power he would not own, And stood convict of folly in the stone.