King. What look they like?
Thumb. Like nothing but themselves.
Queen. And sure thou art like nothing but thyself.[85] [Aside.
King. Enough! the vast idea fills my soul.
I see them—yes, I see them now before me:
The monstrous, ugly, barb'rous sons of clods.
But ha! what form majestic strikes our eyes?
So perfect, that it seems to have been drawn[86]
By all the gods in council: so fair she is,
That surely at her birth the council paused,