Page 450 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

IMOGEN

I would thou grew’st unto the shores o’ th’ haven,
And question’dst every sail: if he should write,
And I 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! [5]

IMOGEN
Then wav’d 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 [10]
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 [15]

To after-eye him.

PISANIO
Madam, so I did.