There, now, I wrong her.
Yet if she,
To win the turquoise of me, if she should—
O cursèd jewels! Would that they were hung
About the glistening neck of some mermaid
A thousand fathoms underneath the sea!
[A Page crosses the garden.
That page again! 'Tis twice within the week
The supple-waisted, pretty-ankled knave
Has crossed my garden at this self-same hour,