Alv. And I, my lord,
Would fain see some old faces once again
As soon as may be.
Prince. Nay, no more excuse—
Follow your pleasure.
Alv. (aside). ’Tis no friend I seek,
But my one deadliest enemy—myself.
[Exit.
Prince. Celio, I think we have well nigh exhausted
The world of compliment, and wasted it: