THIRD QUEEN (kneeling [stilt] to Emilia) 0, my petition was Set down in ice, which by hot grief uncandied Melts into drops; so sorrow, wanting form, Is pressed with deeper matter. EMILIA Pray stand up: Your grief is written in your cheek. THIRD QUEEN 0 WO6, no You cannot read it there; there, through my tears, Like wrinkled pebbles in a glassy stream, You may behold 'em. [The Third Queen rises! Lady, lady, alack— He that will all the treasure know o'th' earth Must know the centre too; he that will fish For my least minnow, let him lead his line To catch one at my heart. 0, pardon me:
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