on receiving, I say, this ominous intimation, the prompt and statesmanlike sagacity of Audley leads him at once as by intuition to the inference thus eloquently expressed in a strain of thrilling and exalted poetry;
Undoubtedly, then something is amiss.
Who can read this without a reminiscence of Sir Christopher Hatton's characteristically cautious conclusion at sight of the military preparations arrayed against the immediate advent of the Armada?
I cannot but surmise—forgive, my friend,
If the conjecture's rash—I cannot but
Surmise the state some danger apprehends!
With the entrance of the King the tone of this scene naturally rises—"in good time," as most readers will say. His brief interview with the two nobles has at least the merit of ease and animation.
Derby. Befall my sovereign all my sovereign's wish!
Edward. Ah, that thou wert a witch, to make it so!
Derby. The emperor greeteth you.
Edward. Would it were the countess!
Derby. And hath accorded to your highness' suit.
Edward. Thou liest, she hath not: But I would she had!
Audley. All love and duty to my lord the king!
Edward. Well, all but one is none:—What news with you?
Audley. I have, my liege, levied those horse and foot,
According to your charge, and brought them hither.
Edward. Then let those foot trudge hence upon those horse
According to their discharge, and begone.—
Derby, I'll look upon the countess' mind
Anon.
Derby. The countess' mind, my liege?
Edward. I mean, the emperor:—Leave me alone.
Audley. What's in his mind?
