LII.

Vp, through the spatious pallace passed she, To where the king's proudly-reposed head (If any can be soft to Tyranny And selfe-tormenting sin) had a soft bed. She thinkes not fit, such, he her face should see, As it is seene in Hell, and seen with dread. To change her face's stile she doth devise, And in a pale ghost's shape to spare his eyes.