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 night 'twas on mine arm--_I kiss'd it. I hope it has not gone to tell my lord That I kiss aught but he._ It has been well observed, that our consciousness that the bracelet is really gone to bear false witness against her, adds an inexpressibly touching effect to the simplicity and tenderness of the sentiment. And again, when she opens her bosom to meet the death to which her husband has doomed her, she finds his letters preserved next her heart What's here! The letters of the loyal Leonatus?-- Soft, we'll no defence. The scene in which Posthumus stakes his ring on the virtue of his wife, and gives Iachimo permission to tempt her, is taken from the story. The baseness and folly of such conduct have been justly censured; but Shakspeare, feeling that Posthumus needed every excuse, has managed the quarrelling scene between him and Iachimo with the most admirable skill. The manner in which his high spirit is gradually worked up by the taunts of this Italian fiend, is contrived with far more probability, and much less coarseness, than in the original tale. In the end he is not the challenger, but the challenged; and could hardly (except on a moral principle, much too refined for those rude times) have declined the wager without compromising his own courage and his faith in the honor of Imogen. IACHIMO. I durst attempt it against any lady in the world. POSTHUMUS.