Martha. Why, child, why! What a state is this! Come! and you to be Queen of the May! They say Prince Rupert will himself be king. Eulalie. And that it is that troubles me. Martha. And so it should. Trouble! the highest lady in the land would be so troubled--such a coil would she be in! What kirtle to put on; what flower, or none; she'd spend six hours, I warrant, over her hair. Then her stomacher, her kerchief, and her shoes; her sash, gloves, necklace, each an hour apiece. But what's your trouble, child? Eulalie. I do not know. Martha. Who was it said just now Prince Rupert troubled her? Eulalie. I think 'tis he; for when I first was told That they would have me for their Queen of May It pleased me as a new gown pleases me. When Rupert's name was buzzed about for king, My heart became a hive of busy things That hum perplexingly: I know them not, But fear they may have stings: that is my grief. I cannot tell if it be joy or grief: To grieve for joy were far more happily sad Than ever I have been; if joy unmixed, Then wherefore am I sad? 'Tis melancholy. Martha. Melancholy! Why, child, I would laugh if thou didst not look it. Come; I have that would banish melancholy from a mummy--a new flowered silken dress and ribbons. I'll dress thee and thou'lt be the loveliest queen That ever led a dance upon the green. [Goes out. Eulalie. The mood which I have christened melancholy Is that, I think, which rules a lonely dove: It wars with maidhood, yet is not unholy: I'll rebaptize my melancholy, love: With dropping tears of virgin purity, Claiming its soul for spotless chastity. Re-enter Martha. Martha. Hurry! There's not a second, child, to spare; Indeed it is high time that you were there, Where all the village waits to make you queen; And that is what your mother ne'er has been. [They go out. SCENE II.--A Garden before Ruperts House. Enter Felice and Bruno.