Nature's a courtier and regards no merit.
Henr. Here's nought but whispering with us; like a calme
Before a tempest, when the silent ayre[110]
Layes her soft eare close to the earth to hearken
For that she feares steales on to ravish her;
Some fate doth joyne our eares to heare it comming.
Come, my brave eagle, let's to covert flie!
I see almighty Æther in the smoak115
Of all his clowds descending, and the skie
Hid in the dim ostents of tragedy. Exit Henr[y] with D'Amb[ois] & Ladies.