LIII.

Her selfe a while she layes aside, and makes Ready to personate a mortall part. Ioseph, the king's dead brother's shape, she takes: What he by nature was, is she by art. She comes to th' king, and with her cold hand slakes His spirits (the sparkes of life) and chills his heart, Life's forge; fain'd is her voice, and false too, be Her words: 'sleep'st thou, fond man? sleep'st thou?' said she.