The picture's mine!
KING. What ails thee, child? It must
Go back into the frame where it belongs.
RACHEL (to GARCERAN).
The picture touch not, nor the pins therein,
Or I shall fix it with a deeper thrust
(Making a motion toward the picture with a pin.)
Behold, right in the heart!
KING. By Heaven, stop!
Thou almost frightenedst me. Who art thou,
girl?
Art mistress of the black and criminal arts,
That I should feel in my own breast the thrust
Thou aimèdst at the picture?
ESTHER. Noble Sire,
She's but a spoiled child, and a wanton girl,
And has no knowledge of forbidden arts!
KING. One ought not boldly play with things like these.
It drove my blood up to my very eyes,
And still I see the world all in a haze.
(To GARCERAN.)