That's not so well; but being a man's son The youthful blood that warmed his father's veins, Now briskly runs in his. We'll find a bit To stay its galloping, or suasion soft To woo it from from such skittish practices. Guido. Please it your highness, now to tell me why I have been honoured first to taste the joy Of your long-prayed-for presence in your land, Rather than to delight at once your son. Alardo. I doubted that he was no son of mine, But some impostor. 'Twas a foolish fear With hope twin-born by information scant That there was cause to hope; so, thinking well That should I rush to this youth unadvised The fear would like a hated step-child fare, And passion nurse the longed-for hope alone, I wisely verified report in you. Now, use your wits; devise some plan whereby I may, myself unknown, confer with Rupert. Guido. to-day a custom, ancient, all-observed, But savouring in my mind of pagan rites, And unbecoming folk of Christendom, Is followed by our sheepish villagers, Who in their day and generation act What by their ancestors has been performed, In timely order tumbling in the ditch Some silly, old, bell-wether age first filled. to-day our youth are met upon the green To plot a treason licensed by the time, Which is, to choose a king and queen of May To reign to-morrow and each holiday; To whom, alone, they shall allegiance swear At every festal season of the year. There Rupert courts his lovely, well-loved quean, Who will be crowned, if I guess rightly, queen; And he, most like, so highly throned by birth, Will reign their monarch on a seat of earth. In some disguise conceal your royalty; Go there; inspect your son, and be as free As though you wore no mask: every degree Has access to him in this pageantry. Alardo. A very feasible and pleasant plot. Come, Conrad, comrade us: since by our lot Comrades we have been for so long a spell In danger and in woe, it chords right well That we be still in unison for joy; You saw me lose, behold me find my boy. Conrad. I will, my lord.--Vouchsafe to call to mind My dead wife's image. Alardo. Strange! I am inclined To think of her full oft within these hours. I see her now, of many lovely flowers That graced our youthful court the loveliest; My sweet, her queen; she, queen of all the rest. The shepherd whose direction helped us here-- 'Tis he recalls your lady's pleasant cheer; Her voice, her smile, her action, yea, her face, Stronger, being male, as coy, to suit his place. Conrad. He is, indeed, the picture of her youth. Conviction now lacks nothing of the truth. He'll be among those playful-treacherous ones, Where let us haste to find two long-lost sons. [They go out. ACT II SCENE I.--A Room in Martha's House. Enter Eulalie. Eulalie. O little heart of mine, why ache you so? Enter Martha.