860Dar: Lets leaue him to his humor. Exunt.

861Ki: Thus from the harts aboundant speakes the tongue,

862Countesse for Emperour, and indeed why not?

863She is as imperator ouer me, and I to her

864Am as a kneeling vassaile that obserues,

865The pleasure, or displeasure of her eye

867Ki: What saies the more then Cleopatras match,

868To Caesar now?

869Lo: That yet my liege ere night,

870She will resolue your maiestie.

871Ki: What drum is this that thunders forth this march,

872To start the tender Cupid in my bosome,

873Poore shipskin how it braules with him that beateth it:

874Go breake the thundring parchment bottome out,

875And I will teach it to conduct sweete lynes,

876Vnto the bosome of a heauenly Nymph,

877For I wiii vse it as my writing paper,

878And so reduce him from a scoulding drum,

879To be the herald and deare counsaiie bearer,

880Betwixt a goddesse, and a mighty king:

881Go bid the drummer learne to touch the Lute,

882Or hang him in the braces of his drum,

883For now we thinke it an vnciuill thing,

884To trouble heauen wrth such harsh resounds, Away. Exit.

885The quarrell that I haue requires no armes,

886But these of myne, and these shall meete my foe,

887In a deepe march of penytrable grones,

888My eyes shall be my arrowes, and my sighes

889Shall serue me as the vantage of the winde,

890To wherle away my sweetest artyllerie:

891Ah but alas she winnes the sunne of me,

892For that is she her selfe, and thence it comes,

893That Poets tearme, the wanton warriour blinde:

894But loue hath eyes as iudgement to his steps,

895Till two much loued glory dazles them?

3 How