IMOGEN.
Thou shouldst have made him
As little as a crow, or less, ere left
To after-eye him.
PISANIO.
Madam, so I did.
IMOGEN.
I would have broke mine eyestrings, crack’d them but
To look upon him, till the diminution
Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle;
Nay, followed him till he had melted from
The smallness of a gnat to air, and then
Have turn’d mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio,
When shall we hear from him?
PISANIO.
Be assur’d, madam,
With his next vantage.
IMOGEN.
I did not take my leave of him, but had
Most pretty things to say. Ere I could tell him
How I would think on him at certain hours
Such thoughts and such; or I could make him swear
The shes of Italy should not betray
Mine interest and his honour; or have charg’d him,
At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,
T’ encounter me with orisons, for then
I am in heaven for him; or ere I could
Give him that parting kiss which I had set
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father,
And like the tyrannous breathing of the north
Shakes all our buds from growing.
Enter a Lady.
LADY.
The Queen, madam,
Desires your Highness’ company.
IMOGEN.
Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch’d.
I will attend the Queen.
PISANIO.
Madam, I shall.
[Exeunt.]