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.