Page 508 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4
P. 508

It is no act of common passage, but
               A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself
               To think, when thou shalt be disedg’d by her
               That now thou tirest on, how thy memory [95]

               Will then be pang’d by me. Prithee, dispatch:
               The lamb entreats the butcher. Where’s thy knife?
               Thou art too slow to do thy master’s bidding
               When I desire it too.



              PISANIO

                               O gracious lady:
               Since I received command to do this business [100]
               I have not slept one wink.



              IMOGEN
                               Do’t, and to bed then.



              PISANIO
               I’ll wake mine eye-balls out first.



              IMOGEN
                               Wherefore then

               Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abus’d
               So many miles, with a pretence? This place?
               Mine action, and thine own? Our horses’ labour? [105]
               The time inviting thee? The perturb’d court

               For my being absent? whereunto I never
               Purpose return. Why hast thou gone so far,
               To be unbent when thou hast ta’en thy stand,
               Th’ elected deer before thee?



              PISANIO
                               But to win time [110]

               To lose so bad employment, in the which
               I have consider’d of a course: good lady,
               Hear me with patience.
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