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