Document:  All > Shakespeare > Comedies > Cymbeline > Act I, scene III

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IMOGEN: I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven,
	And question'dst every sail: if he should write
	And not have it, 'twere a paper lost,
	As offer'd mercy is. What was the last
	That he spake to thee?

PISANIO: It was his queen, his queen!

IMOGEN: Then waved his handkerchief?

PISANIO: And kiss'd it, madam.

IMOGEN: Senseless Linen! happier therein than I!
	And that was all?

PISANIO:                   No, madam; for so long
	As he could make me with this eye or ear
	Distinguish him from others, he did keep
	The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief,
	Still waving, as the fits and stirs of 's mind
	Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on,
	How swift his ship.

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 eye-strings; crack'd them, but
	To look upon him, till the diminution
	Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle,
	Nay, follow'd 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 assured, 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 charged him,
	At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,
	To 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.



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