ACT V
SCENE I 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
 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
 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,
 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
 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
 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
 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]




 CYMBELINE


ACT V