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.