 | Elvira |  |
SCENE II.
QUEEN.Wise men tell us
That deep dissembling is th'imperial art
By which kings reign; and that its mystic veil
Must still be drawn betwixt them and the eyes
Of their presuming subjects. Must I stoop
To this felt baseness? Is a sovereign's will
By those to be controll'd whom heaven ordains
The vassals of his nod; to crouch and kiss
The foot that spurns them? Well; this art for once,
Descending from myself, I will essay—
Guard, call your prisoner hither—and assume,
If yet I can—for just disdain forbids it—
This gentleness of look that is prescrib'd me.
| Elvira | |