The empty spaces make me shake with cold. I'll choose myself another chain forthwith; The body jests not when it warning sends. And now enough of this! But that you could Avenge yourselves in blood on this poor fool-- That was not well! (_Stepping to the table._) For do but see these eyes-- Yes, see the eyes, the body, neck, and form! God made them verily with master hand; 'Twas she _herself_ the image did distort. Let us revere in her, then, God's own work, And not destroy what he so wisely built. QUEEN. Oh, touch it not! KING. This nonsense now again! And if I really take it in my hand, (_He has taken the picture in his hand_) Am I another, then? I wind the chain In jest, to mock you, thus about my neck, (_Doing it._) The face that 'frights you in my bosom hide-- Am I the less Alfonso, who doth see That he has err'd, and who the fault condemns? Then of your nonsense let this be enough! [_He draws away from the table._] QUEEN. Only-- KING (_wildly looking at her_). What is 't? QUEEN. O God in heav'n! KING. Be frighted not, good wife! Be sensible! Repeat not evermore the selfsame thing! It doth remind me of the difference. (_Pointing to the table, then to his breast._)