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

Pis.
It was ^note his queen, his queen!

^note

Imo.
Then waved his handkerchief?

Pis.
And kiss'd it, madam.

Imo.
Senseless linen! happier therein than I!
And that was all?

Pis.
No, madam; for so long
As he could make me with this ^note eye ^note or ear ^note
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.

Imo.
Thou shouldst have made him ^note
As little as a crow, or less, ere left
To after-eye him.

Pis.
Madam, so I did.

Imo.
I would have broke mine eye-strings, crack'd them ^note, but
To look upon him, till the diminution ^note
Of ^note space had pointed him sharp as my needle;
Nay, follow'd ^note 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? ^note

Pis.
Be assured, madam,
With his next vantage.

Imo.
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 ^note 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 ^{note note}. Enter a Lady.

Lady.
The queen, madam,
Desires your highness' company.

Imo.
Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd.
I will attend the queen.

Pis.
Madam, I shall. [Exeunt. ^note

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