PISANIO.

One score, 'twixt sun and sun,
Madam, 's enough for you; and too much too.

IMOGEN.

Why, one that rode to his execution, man,
Could never go so slow!

There are two or three other passages bearing on the conjugal tenderness
of Imogen, which must be noticed for the extreme intensity of the
feeling, and the unadorned elegance of the expression.

I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the 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.

'Twas, His queen! his queen!

IMOGEN.

Then wav'd his hankerchief?

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 his mind
Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on,
How swift his ship.

IMOGEN.

Thou should'st 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 my eye-strings; cracked them, but
To look upon him; till the diminution
Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle;
Nay, followed him, till he had melted from
The smallness of a gnat to air; and then
Have turn'd mine eye, and wept.

Two little incidents, which are introduced with the most unobtrusive
simplicity, convey the strongest impression of her tenderness for her
husband, and with that perfect unconsciousness on her part, which adds
to the effect. Thus when she has lost her bracelet--

Go, bid my woman
Search for a jewel, that too casually,
Hath left my arm. It was thy master's: 'shrew me,
If I would lose it for a revenue
Of any king in Europe. I do think
I saw't this morning; confident I am,
Last nigh