SCENE I. Britain. The Roman camp. Cymbeline  Shakespeare homepage  |  Cymbeline  | Act 5, Scene 1 

 Previous scene  |  Next scene  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  Shakespeare homepage  |  Cymbeline  | Act 5, Scene 1 

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