Its fresh addition gives us double power, With which we join our queen's, two-fold as well, Strong by your suffrage, by her beauty strong: And in this combined and quadruple might, We bid you be as merry as you may. Let study, commerce, labour, for a time-- In truth, three woes--be counted sins in act; Shame anger, malice, envy, every ill Back to the devil with loud-laughing mocks; Drink hail to liberty in rosy wine; Happy your faces with continuous smiles, And spend mirth's overflow in jest and song; Forsake stone walls; re-live the golden age Among the trees in sweetness and moonlight. Mayers. We will, we will! Rupert. Our May-queen gone! Felice. She has retired to preserve her beauty. Bruno. Ay, sir, to pickle it, to wash it in brine, to weep. Rupert. Wept she, indeed? [They talk apart. Green. Is it not a noble prince? Alardo. Truly he seems to be; but by this hue We may not judge his nature's primal mood; For princes, in their humours, are chameleons. Ivy. Camellias, sir, are of different colours. Our prince is of the spotless dye. Alardo. Whitewashed--a sepulchre? Ivy. Sir, do you speak well? Alardo. Well; I hope I speak as well as other men. Ivy. But do you mean well? Alardo. By all means. Green. For he who speaks ill of the prince here, had need to be his bosom-friend, or a cur whom no one would waste a kick on. Alardo. The prince must lie warm-covered in your hearts. Ivy. You must be a stranger. Know, that this same Prince Rupert is out of sight and beyond hearing the mightiest monarch in these parts. To the nobles he is a most egregious tyrant; to the commons, a very brother. But yesterday he addressed me by the damnations of knave and fellow: he could not have been more familiar though he had been my own father, who always calls me rascal. His good qualities are as contemptible as another man's sins. Alardo. Then, by your showing, worthy villager, He is a very white crow of a prince. But, tell me, is he not Alardo's son? Ivy. His son, and successor. Indeed, I may say, he is his father, for he, being without question dead, Rupert is king. Alardo. Dead without question! You are positive. How, if I say I know he is alive? Think you to gain a sire the prince would choose To lose so mighty and august a throne? Ivy. Treasonless man! would you dethrone the prince? Ho! lechery and faith! guard our good prince! His life's in danger. Rupert. What cry is this? Ivy. Great prince, it might have been a crying matter; but I, thank the gods, have been man enough to stifle it. Rupert. So you have turned approver: renegades I never trust; but what have you to say? Ivy. I will prove that this greybeard is the most noteworthy renegade and trusty traitor these times have seen. Rupert. Your language is too original for ordinary capacities.--What are you, old man? Alardo. A soothsayer. Rupert. Is he affiliated in your trade?