Then Laertes draws his shirt up to his throat to reveal a mass of bruises over his chest. Some of them are almost recognizable as bites, still sharp crescents impressed in the skin; others have spread and faded into purpling washes over the skin. "I begged for these bruises, and though he feared to the heart of him that it would harm me, my husband was brave enough to give me them. He asked that I give him a word that I might speak, if ever I wished it to stop--and when I asked him to stop, he heeded me. There is care in this. I touch these bruises, and I feel his care for me, written deeper than my skin."