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Original Text

Modern Text
Enter POSTHUMUS alone, wearing Roman garments and
carrying a bloody cloth.
Enter POSTHUMUS alone, wearing Roman garments and
carrying a bloody cloth.
POSTHUMUS
Yea, bloody cloth, I’ll keep thee, for I wished
Thou shouldst be colored thus. You married ones,
If each of you should take this course, how many
Must murder wives much better than themselves
5
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
10
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,
15
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 th’ Italian gentry, and to fight
Against my lady’s kingdom. ’Tis enough
20
That, Britain, I have killed thy mistress. Peace,
Hear patiently my purpose. I’ll disrobe me
Of these Italian weeds and suit myself
As does a Briton peasant. So I’ll fight
25
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
30
More valor in me than my habits show.
Gods, put the strength o’ th’ Leonati in me.
To shame the guise o’ th’ world, I will begin
The fashion: less without and more within.
POSTHUMUS
Yea, bloody cloth, I’ll keep thee, for I wished
Thou shouldst be colored thus. You married ones,
If each of you should take this course, how many
Must murder wives much better than themselves
5
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
10
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,
15
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 th’ Italian gentry, and to fight
Against my lady’s kingdom. ’Tis enough
20
That, Britain, I have killed thy mistress. Peace,
Hear patiently my purpose. I’ll disrobe me
Of these Italian weeds and suit myself
As does a Briton peasant. So I’ll fight
25
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
30
More valor in me than my habits show.
Gods, put the strength o’ th’ Leonati in me.
To shame the guise o’ th’ world, I will begin
The fashion: less without and more within.
He exits.
He exits.

Original Text

Modern Text
Enter POSTHUMUS alone, wearing Roman garments and
carrying a bloody cloth.
Enter POSTHUMUS alone, wearing Roman garments and
carrying a bloody cloth.
POSTHUMUS
Yea, bloody cloth, I’ll keep thee, for I wished
Thou shouldst be colored thus. You married ones,
If each of you should take this course, how many
Must murder wives much better than themselves
5
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
10
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,
15
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 th’ Italian gentry, and to fight
Against my lady’s kingdom. ’Tis enough
20
That, Britain, I have killed thy mistress. Peace,
Hear patiently my purpose. I’ll disrobe me
Of these Italian weeds and suit myself
As does a Briton peasant. So I’ll fight
25
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
30
More valor in me than my habits show.
Gods, put the strength o’ th’ Leonati in me.
To shame the guise o’ th’ world, I will begin
The fashion: less without and more within.
POSTHUMUS
Yea, bloody cloth, I’ll keep thee, for I wished
Thou shouldst be colored thus. You married ones,
If each of you should take this course, how many
Must murder wives much better than themselves
5
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
10
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,
15
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 th’ Italian gentry, and to fight
Against my lady’s kingdom. ’Tis enough
20
That, Britain, I have killed thy mistress. Peace,
Hear patiently my purpose. I’ll disrobe me
Of these Italian weeds and suit myself
As does a Briton peasant. So I’ll fight
25
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
30
More valor in me than my habits show.
Gods, put the strength o’ th’ Leonati in me.
To shame the guise o’ th’ world, I will begin
The fashion: less without and more within.
He exits.
He exits.
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