AUDLEY.
What is his mind?
DERBY.
Let’s leave him to his humor.
[Exeunt.]
KING EDWARD.
Thus from the heart’s aboundance speaks the tongue;
Countess for Emperour: and indeed, why not?
She is as imperator over me
And I to her
Am as a kneeling vassal, that observes
The pleasure or displeasure of her eye.
[Enter Lodowick.]
What says the more than Cleopatra’s match
To Caesar now?
LODOWICK.
That yet, my liege, ere night
She will resolve your majesty.
[Drum within.]
KING EDWARD.
What drum is this that thunders forth this march,
To start the tender Cupid in my bosom?
Poor shipskin, how it brawls with him that beateth it!
Go, break the thundring parchment bottom out,
And I will teach it to conduct sweet lines
Unto the bosom of a heavenly Nymph;
For I will use it as my writing paper,
And so reduce him from a scolding drum
To be the herald and dear counsel bearer
Betwixt a goddess and a mighty king.
Go, bid the drummer learn to touch the Lute,
Or hang him in the braces of his drum,
For now we think it an uncivil thing,
To trouble heaven with such harsh resounds:
Away!
[Exit.]