Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Imo. Imo.
Imo. Thou should'st haue made him
Imo. As little as a Crow, or lesse, ere left
Imo. To after‑eye him.
Pisa. Pisa.
Pisa. Madam, so I did.
Imo. I would haue broke mine eye‑strings;
Imo. Crack'd them, but to looke vpon him, till the diminution
Imo. Of space, had pointed him sharpe as my Needle:
Imo. Nay, followed him, till he had melted from
Imo. The smalnesse of a Gnat, to ayre: and then
Imo. Haue turn'd mine eye, and wept. But good Pisanio,
Imo. When shall we heare from him.
Pisa. Be assur'd Madam,
Pisa. With his next vantage.
Imo. I did not take my leaue of him, but had
Imo. Most pretty things to say: Ere I could tell him