Act V, Scene 1

Britain. The Roman camp.

[Enter POSTHUMUS, with a bloody handkerchief]

• Posthumus Leonatus. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee, for I wish'd
  Thou shouldst be colour'd thus. You married ones,
  If each of you should take this course, how many
  Must murder wives much better than themselves 2955
  For wrying but a little! O Pisanio!
  Every good servant does not all commands:
  No bond but to do just ones. Gods! if you
  Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never
  Had lived to put on this: so had you saved 2960
  The noble Imogen to repent, and struck
  Me, wretch more worth your vengeance. But, alack,
  You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love,
  To have them fall no more: you some permit
  To second ills with ills, each elder worse, 2965
  And make them dread it, to the doers' thrift.
  But Imogen is your own: do your best wills,
  And make me blest to obey! I am brought hither
  Among the Italian gentry, and to fight
  Against my lady's kingdom: 'tis enough 2970
  That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace!
  I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens,
  Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me
  Of these Italian weeds and suit myself
  As does a Briton peasant: so I'll fight 2975
  Against the part I come with; so I'll die
  For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life
  Is every breath a death; and thus, unknown,
  Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril
  Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know 2980
  More valour in me than my habits show.
  Gods, put the strength o' the Leonati in me!
  To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin
  The fashion, less without and more within.

[Exit]