Cymbeline

Introduction

The most awkward of the late romances, Cymbeline is a very unique work. It has the most complex and excessively busy plot of any Shakespeare play and is disparaged by many (George Bernard Shaw referred to it as stagey trash of the lowest order, vulgar, offensive and exasperating beyond all tolerance) and yet lauded by others (Of all the works in world literature, Lord Tennyson had a copy of it buried with him). It both frustrates and enchants. Imogen is certainly one of the Bard’s finest female leads but there is really no one else in the play to match her. Neither Posthumus, her husband, who really is quite dull and foolish, nor the two comic villains, Iachimo and Cloten, are anywhere near as interesting or as well developed as Imogen. This is also true of the tiresome King and his wicked Queen, causing many critics to conclude that Imogen deserves a better play. Cymbeline himself was an actual English king, right around the time of Jesus, during the reign of Augustus. The Romans still expect tribute from England, but when Cymbeline resists, the two kingdoms go to war. This play is therefore part history, at times quite tragic and ultimately triumphantly comedic. In other words it is another of Shakespeare’s late historic / tragic / comic romances, albeit less applauded than The Winter’s Tale, Pericles and The Tempest.

The king’s daughter, Imogen, has chosen a husband, Posthumus, against the will of her father, which gets Posthumus banished, since the wicked queen very much wants her son the incompetent Cloten, (stepson to the king) to marry Imogen, so that he can inherit the throne. In Italy the exiled Posthumus boasts of Imogen’s loyalty to him and an Italian named Iachimo bets that he can seduce her. He never can but makes it seem as though he has and Posthumus is devastated and through too many misadventures to account for here, but which include ghosts, astrologists, a headless villain, poison, sleeping potions, war, disguises, ‘supposed deaths’ and kidnapped princes, Imogen and Posthumus are ultimately reunited in the most complex of all of Shakespeare’s act five revelations. Most of the characters in the play lack depth and Cymbeline himself is neither well developed or worthy of much analysis. Posthumus is actually a quite unlikeable partner to Imogen, and the all too many subplots are hopelessly disjointed and seemingly without centre, until act five. On the other hand, this is Imogen’s play, and she is wonderful, one can suppose that the three villainous characters (Iachimo, Cloten and the Queen) are at least fun to hate, there is adventure a plenty in the busy, busy plot and act five has the power to fully astonish, as it pulls together so many errant narratives to ultimately arrive at a cohesive series of reconciliations and just rewards. Uneven and at times frustrating? Yes. Boring? Never.

Act I (6 scenes)

Scene i

Britain. The gardens of Cymbeline’s palace.

Enter two gentlemen

1 Gentleman: “You do not meet a man but frowns.”

2 Gentleman: “But what’s the matter?”

1 Gentleman: “His daughter, and heir of the kingdom, whom he purposed to his wife’s sole son, has referred herself unto a poor but worthy gentleman. She’s wedded; her husband banished; she imprisoned. All is outward sorrow, though I think the king be touched at the very heart. He that has missed the princess is a thing too bad for bad report; and he that has her – I mean that married her – alack, good man! And therefore banished. I do not think so fair an outward and such stuff within endows a man but he.”

2 Gentleman: “You speak him fair.”

1 Gentleman: “His father joined his honour against the Romans and served with glory and admired success, and so gained the name Leonatus; besides this gentleman in question, he had two other sons, who died with their swords in hand, for which their father took such sorrow that he quit being, and his gentle lady deceased just as our gentleman was born. The king took the baby to his protection, called him Posthumus Leonatus, bred him and made him of his bed-chamber and put him to all the learning, which he took, as we do air, fast as twas ministered. He lived in court, most praised and most loved.”

2 Gentleman: “Pray you tell me, is she the sole child to the king?”

1 Gentleman: “His only child. He had two sons, who from their nursery were stolen; and to this hour no guess in knowledge which way they went.”

2 Gentleman: “How long is this ago?”

1 Gentleman: “Some twenty years.”

1 Gentleman: “Howsoever tis strange, yet is it true, sir. Here comes the gentleman, the Queen and the Princess.”

Exit the gentlemen

Enter the Queen, Posthumus and Imogen (The Princess)

Queen: “Be assured you shall not find me, daughter, after the slander of most stepmothers, evil-eyed unto you. You are my prisoner, but your jailer shall deliver you the keys that lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, so soon as I can win the offended king, I will be your advocate.”

Posthumus: “Please your Highness, I will from hence today.”

Queen: “You know the peril.”

Exit Queen

Imogen: “Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband, I something fear my father’s wrath, but nothing what his rage can do on me. You must be gone; and I shall here abide the hourly shot of angry eyes, not comforted to live but that there is this jewel in the world that I may see again.”

Posthumus: “My Queen. My mistress! O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause to be suspected of more tenderness than does become a man. I will remain the loyalist husband; my residence in Rome thither write, my queen, and with my eyes I’ll drink the words you send. Adieu!”

Imogen: “Stay a little. Look here, love; this diamond was my mother’s; take it, heart; but keep it till you woo another wife, when Imogen is dead.”

Posthumus: “How, how? Another? You gentle gods, give me but this I have. Remain, remain thou here.” (Posthumus puts on the ring) “For my sake wear this; it is a mantle of love; I’ll place it upon this fairest prisoner.” (Posthumus puts a bracelet on Imogen’s arm)

Imogen: “O the gods! When shall we see again?”

Enter Cymbeline

Posthumus: “Alack, the King!”

Cymbeline: “Thou basest thing, avoid; hence from my sight! If after this command thou fraught the court with thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away! Thou art poison to my blood.”

Posthumus: “The gods protect you. I am gone.”

Exit Posthumus

Imogen: “There cannot be a pinch in death more sharp than this.”

Cymbeline: “O disloyal thing, thou heaps a year’s age on me!”

Imogen: “I beseech you, sir, harm not yourself with your vexation. I am senseless of your wrath.”

Cymbeline: “Past grace? Obedience?”

Imogen: “Past hope, and in despair.”

Cymbeline: “You might have had the sole son of my queen!”

Imogen: “O blessed that I might not! I chose an eagle, and did avoid a puttock.”

Cymbeline: “Thou took a beggar, who would have made my throne a seat for baseness. O thy vile one!”

Imogen: “Sir, it is your fault that I have loved Posthumus. You bred him as my playfellow, and he is a man worthy of any woman.”

Cymbeline: “What, art thou mad?”

Imogen: “Almost, sir. Heaven restore me!”

Enter the Queen

Cymbeline: “Thou foolish thing!” (to the Queen) “They were again together. Away with her, and pen her up. Let her languish.”

Exit the King

Enter Pisanio, servant to Posthumus

Queen: “How now, sir! What news?”

Pisanio: “My lord, your son, drew on my master.”

Queen: “No harm, I trust, is done.”

Pisanio: “There might have been, but that my master rather played than fought, and had no help of anger; and they were parted by gentlemen at hand.”

Queen: “I am very glad of it.”

Imogen: “Your son is my father’s friend; he takes his part to draw upon an exile.” (to Pisanio) “Why came you from your master?”

Pisanio: “On his command. He left these notes of what commands I should be subject to, when it pleased you to employ me.”

Imogen: “About some half-hour hence, pray you speak with me. You shall at least go see my lord abroad. For this time leave me.”

Summary and Analysis

Typical of opening scenes, we learn some background intel right off the bat here from a conversation between two gentlemen about the royal house. We learn that Imogen, the King’s daughter, was expected to marry Cloten, the Queen’s son. However, Imogen went ahead and boldly married Posthumus, an orphaned ward to the King. He was brought up in the court and he and Imogen were always very close and now very much in love. She has no love whatsoever for Cloten. The King is furious and has banished Posthumus and placed his daughter, Imogen, under house arrest. She is the King’s only child, as his two little sons were kidnapped many years ago. These missing sons will become one of the significant subplots of the play. The queen arrives and promises to be kind to Imogen and Posthumus but they see through her completely and vow to remain faithful to one another and exchange tokens as Posthumus prepares for exile. The King arrives and berates his daughter for what she has done. Imogen defends herself and holds her own with her father. Pisanio, Posthumus’ servant, arrives to announce that Cloten drew his sword on Posthumus, who merely played with Cloten, and to inform Imogen that Posthumus has departed and that he, Pisanio, is at her service. Since the plot is complicated this opening scene helps us with the foundation of the story, which will develop in many divergent tangents.

Act I

Scene ii

Britain. A public place.

Enter Cloten and two lords

Cloten: “Have I hurt him?”

2 Lord: (aside) “No, faith; not so much as his patience.”

Cloten: “The villain would not stand me.”

2 Lord: (aside) “No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.”

Cloten: “I would they had not come between us.”

2 Lord: (aside) “So would I, till you had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground.”

Cloten: “And that she should love this fellow, and refuse me.”

2 Lord: (aside) “If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damned.”

1 Lord: “Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together; she’s a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.”

2 Lord: (aside) “She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her.”

Cloten: “Come, I’ll to my chamber; would there had been some hurt done!”

2 Lord: (aside) “I wish not so; unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt.”

Clloten: “Come, let’s go together.”

Summary and Analysis

Cloten boasts of what he would have done to Posthumus, had the gentleman not separated them. One of the lords makes fun of him repeatedly and he comes across as a boorish fool and a braggart. By now we have met most of the important characters at court. The Queen is quite menacing and the King has no spine to contradict her. Cloten is every bit as bad as he comes across early on, and Imogen will just get more and more enchanting and beautiful as we proceed. Posthumus comes across very well in the beginning, but his most damning scenes lie just ahead, as the plot thickens.

Act I

Scene iii

Britain. Cymbeline’s Palace.

Enter Imogen and Pisiano

Imogen: “I would thou questioned every sail; if he should write, and I not have it, ’twere a paper lost, as offered mercy is. What was the last that he spoke to thee?”

Pisanio: “It was: his queen, his queen!”

Imogen: “Then waved his handkerchief?”

Pisanio: “And kissed it, madam.”

Imogen: “Senseless linen, happier therein than I! And that was all?”

Pisanio: “No, madam, for so long as he could make me out with his eyes, he did keep to the deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief still waving; how slow his soul sailed on.”

Imogen: “I would have broken my eye-strings but to look on him, till diminution of space had pointed him sharp as my needle. But, good Pisanio, when shall we hear from him?”

Pisanio: “Be assured, madam, with his next vantage.”

Imogen: “I did not take my leave of him, but had most pretty things to say. Ere I could tell him how I would think on him at certain hours such thoughts and such; or ere I could give him that parting kiss.”

Enter a lady

Lady: “The Queen, madam, desires your Highness’ company.”

Imogen: “I will attend the Queen.”

Summary an Analysis

Pisanio assures Imogen that Posthumus departed dedicated to her, waving his handkerchief and exclaiming her name. He also assures her that she will hear from him soon. They are then interrupted by a message that she is to attend to the queen. Just as Posthumus and Imogen are separated, Shakespeare makes it clear to us how much in love they really are. The play may bear the name of King Cymbeline but it is truly more about our not quite so royal couple, similar to King Henry IV, which is more focused on Falstaff and Hal than on the King himself.

Act I

Scene iv

Rome. Philario’s house.

Enter Philario, Iachimo, a Frenchman, a Dutchman and a Spaniard.

Iachimo: “His matter of marrying his king’s daughter; wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own.”

Frenchman: “And then his banishment.”

Iachimo: “But how comes it that he is to sojourn with you? How comes acquaintance?”

Philario: “His father and I were soldiers together, to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life.”

Enter Posthumus

Philario: “Here comes the Briton. I beseech you all be better known to this gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine.”

Frenchman: “Sir, we have known each other in Orleans.”

Posthumus: “Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still.”

Frenchman: “Sir, you over-rate my poor kindness. I was glad I did atone my countrymen and you.”

Posthumus: “By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller.”

Iachimo: “Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference?”

Frenchman: “Twas a contention in public, much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses, this gentleman at that time vouching his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, qualified and less attemptable, than any of the rarest ladies in France.”

Iachimo: “That lady is not now living, or this gentleman’s opinion is worn out.”

Posthumus: “She holds her virtue still, and I my mind.”

Iachimo: “You must not so far prefer her before ours of Italy.”

Posthumus: “I praised her as I rated her.”

Iachimo:”What do you esteem her at?”

Posthumus: “More than the world enjoys; the gift of the gods.”

Iachimo: “Which the gods have given you?”

Posthumus: “Which by their graces I will keep.”

Iachimo: “Your ring may be stolen too. So your brace of unprizable estimations; a cunning thief would hazard the winning both of first and last.”

Posthumus: “Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier to convince the honour of my mistress. I do nothing doubt you have a store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring.”

Iachimo: “I dare thereupon pawn my estate to your ring, which, in my opinion, overvalues it something. But I make my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation; and to bar your office herein too, I durst attempt it against any lady in the world”

Posthumus: “You are a great deal abused in too bold a persuasion, and I doubt not you sustain what you are worthy of by your attempt.”

Iachimo: “What’s that?”

Posthumus: “A repulse; though your attempt deserves more – a punishment too.”

Philario: “Gentlemen, enough of this. It came in too suddenly; let it die as it was born, and I pray you be better acquainted.”

Iachimo: “Would I had put my estate and my neighbour’s on the approbation of what I have spoke!”

Posthumus: “What lady would you choose to assail?”

Iachimo: “Yours, whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers which you imagine so reserved.”

Posthumus: “I will wage against your gold gold to it. My ring I hold as dear as my finger.”

Iachimo: “I am the master of my speeches , and would undergo what is spoken, I swear.”

Posthumus: “Will you? I shall but lend my diamond until your return. Let there be covenants drawn between us. My mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking. I dare you to this match: here’s my ring.”

Iachimo: “By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond too. If I come off, and leave her in such honour, as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel and my gold are yours.”

Posthumus: “I embrace these conditions; if you make your voyage upon her, and give me directly to understand you have prevailed, I am no further your enemy, for she is not worth our debate; if she remain unseduced, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill opinion and the assault you have made to her chastity you shall answer me with your sword.”

Iachimo: “Your hand – a covenant! We will have these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain.”

Posthumus: “Agreed.”

Summary and Analysis

Posthumus is in exile in Italy where an international group of men are debating the worth of their country’s women. Iachimo, an Italian, claims there is no woman who cannot be seduced. Posthumus takes exception, claiming that his Imogen, back in Britain, is unassailable. Iachimo makes a hefty bet with Posthumus that he could travel to England and seduce Imogen. Posthumus foolishly accepts the bet. This scene introduces Iachimo, a character who, villain-like, will advance the plot considerably and wreaking havoc between our young lovers. He is hardly an Iago, but he will make Posthumus as jealous as Iago did Othello, and de-rail our love story for much of its tenure.

Act I

Scene v

Britain. Cymbeline’s palace

Enter Queen and Dr. Cornelius

Queen: “Now, master doctor, have you brought those drugs?”

Cornelius: “Here they are, madam. But I beseech your Grace, without offence, my conscience bids me ask, wherefore you have commanded of me these most poisonous compounds.”

Queen: “I wonder, doctor, why thou asks me such a question. Have I not been thy pupil long? Has thou not learned me how to make perfumes? Distill? Preserve? Yea, so that our great king himself does woo me often for my confections? Having thus far proceeded, unless thou thinks me devilish, I will try the force of thy compounds on such creatures as we count not worth the hanging – but none human – to try the vigour of them.”

Cornelius: “Your Highness shall from this practice but make hard your heart.”

Queen: “O, content thee.”

Cornelius: (aside) “I do suspect you, madam; but you shall do no harm. I do not like her. She does think she has strange lingering poisons. I do know her spirit and will not trust her malice with a drug of such a damned nature. Those she has will stupefy and dull the senses awhile, which first perchance she’ll prove on cats and dogs, then afterward up higher.; but there is no danger in what show of death it makes. She is fooled with a most false effect; and I the truer so to be false with her.”

Queen: “No further service, doctor, until I send for thee.”

Cornelius: “I humbly take my leave.” (exit)

Enter Pisanio

Queen: (aside) “Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him will I first work. He is for his master, and an enemy to my son.” – (to PIsanio) “How now, Pisanio? Weeps she still, sayest thou? Does thou think in time she will not quench, and let instructions enter where folly now possesses? Do thou work. When thou shall bring me word she loves my son, I’ll tell thee on the instant thou art as great as thy master; greater, for his fortunes all lie speechless, and his name is at a last gasp. Return he cannot, nor continue where he is.” (The Queen drops the box of poison. Pisanio takes it up.). “Thou takes up thou knows not what. It is a thing I made, which has the King five times redeemed from death. Nay, I prithee take it. It is an earnest of a further good I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how the case stands with her. Fare thee well, Pisanio. Think on my words.” (aside) “A sly and constant knave. I have given him that which, if he takes, shall quite unpeople him.”

Pisanio: “But when to my good lord I prove untrue I’ll choke myself – there’s all I’ll do for you.”

Summary and Analysis

The Queen has ordered her court doctor, Cornelius, to prepare a deadly potion, which she claims is not intended for humans. Cornelius, suspecting otherwise, actually just gives her a sleeping concoction that will render the consumer death-like but ultimately unharmed. True to her wicked nature she then admits to us that the potion is intended for Pisanio himself, so that there will remain no strong advocate for Posthumus or Imogen. We may notice familiar plot patterns from earlier Shakespeare works. This ‘sleeping’ potion harkens back to Romeo and Juliet and the father / daughter relationship between Cymbeline and Imogen reminds us of King Lear and his breech with dear Cordilia, while how Iachimo affects Posthumus suggests what Iago did to Othello. Even the cross-dressing, which is to come, brings to mind the earlier classic comedies, such as Twelfth Night and As You Like It. Shakespeare experiments with many different styles and motifs in this later play.

Act I

Scene vi

Britain. The palace.

Enter Imogen

Imogen: (aside) “A father cruel and a step-dame false; a foolish suitor to a wedded lady, who has her husband banished. O, that husband! My supreme crown of grief.”

Enter Pisanio and Iachimo

Pisanio: “Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome comes from my lord with letters.”

Imogen: “Thanks, good sir. You are kindly welcome.”

Iachimo: (aside) “All of her that is most rich! If she be furnished with a mind so rare I have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend! Arm me, audacity, from head to foot!”

Imogen: (reads) “‘He is one of the noblest, whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied.’ You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I have words to bid you.”

Iachimo: “Thanks, fairest lady.”

Imogen: “Continues well my lord?”

Iachimo: “Well, madam.”

Imogen: “Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.”

Iachimo: “Exceeding pleasant. So merry and so gamesome. He is called the British reveller.”

Imogen: “When he was here he did incline to sadness and often times not knowing why.”

Iachimo: “I never saw him sad. There is a Frenchman companion of his, who much seems to love a Gallian girl at home, while your lord laughs to think that man – who knows by history, report, or his own proof what woman is, yea, what she cannot choose but must be – will languish for assured bondage.”

Imogen: “Will my lord say so?”

Iachimo: “Ay, madam, with laughter. It is a recreation to hear him mock the Frenchman. But heaven knows some men are much to blame.”

Imogen: “Not he, I hope.”

Iachimo: “Not he, but yet heaven’s bounty toward him might be used more thankfully. I am bound to pity, too.”

Imogen: “Who do you pity, sir? Am I one? I pray you, sir. Why do you pity me? You do seem to know something of me, or what concerns me. My lord, I fear, has forgotten Britain.”

Iachimo: “And himself.”

Imogen: “Let me hear no more.”

Iachimo: “O, dear soul, your cause does strike my heart with pity that does make me sick! A lady so fair would make the greatest king double. Be revenged; or she who bore you was no queen.”

Imogen: “Revenged? How should I be revenged?”

Iachimo: “Revenge it. I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure, and will continue fast to your affection. Let me my service tender on your lips.”

Imogen: “Away! I do condemn my ears that have so long attended thee. Thou wrongs a gentleman who is as far from thy report as thy from honour; and solicits her a lady who disdains thee and the devil alike. The king, my father, shall be made acquainted of thy assault.”

Iachimo: “O happy Leonatus! I may say the credit that thy lady has of thee deserves thy trust. Blessed live you long, a lady to the worthiest sir that ever country called his! And you his mistress, only for the most worthiest fit. Give me your pardon. I have spoken this to know if your affiance were deeply rooted.”

Imogen: “You make amends.”

Iachimo: “He sits among men like a descended god. Be not angry, most mighty princess, that I have adventured to try your taking of a false report, which has honoured with confirmation your great judgement in the election of a sir so rare. The love I bare him made me to fan you thus. I pray your pardon.”

Imogen: “All’s well, sir.”

Iachimo: “My humble thanks. I had almost forgot to entreat your Grace, but in a small request, for it concerns your lord.”

Imogen: “Pray, what is it?”

Iachimo: “Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord – the best feature of our wing – have mingled sums to buy a present for the Emperor. Tis a plate of rare device, and jewels of rich and exquisite form, their values great. May it please you to take them in protection?”

Imogen: “Willingly, and pawn my honour for their safety. Since my lord has interest in them , I will keep them in my bedchamber.”

Iachimo: “They are in a trunk, attended by my men. I will make bold to send them to you only for this night. I must aboard tomorrow.”

Imogen: “O, no, no.”

Iachimo: “Yes, I beseech you; from Gallia I crossed the seas on purpose and on promise to see your Grace.”

Imogen: “I thank you for your pains, but not away tomorrow!”

Iachimo: “O, I must, madam. Therefore I will beseech you to greet your lord with writing. Do it tonight.”

Imogen: “I will write. Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept. You’re very welcome.”

Summary and Analysis

Iachimo arrives in Britain with the sole intention of seducing Imogen. He speaks disparagingly of Posthumus’ fidelity in Italy and suggests that Imogen get revenge by sleeping with him. When she reacts violently to Iachimo, he claims he was just testing her loyalty and now speaks glowingly of Posthumus. His next tactic is to trick Imogen into receiving a trunk that he claims he and others, including Posthumus, have filled with treasures intended for the Emperor. Imogen agrees to take the trunk into her room for the night. In two more scenes we will see what nefarious intentions he has in mind for that trunk. Iachimo is a soft villain, compared to Iago, who is deadlier in his intentions. Iachimo has a wonderful time devising his villainy and is more a pest than the full blown Shakespearean villains, such as Edmund, Ricard III, Aaron the Moor or Iago. Nonetheless, this pest is about to complicate the plot considerably.

Act II (5 scenes)

Scene i

Britain. Before Cymbeline’s palace.

Enter Cloten and his two lords.

Cloten: “A pox on it! I had rather not be so noble as I am: they dare not fight with me, because of the Queen, my mother.”

2 Lord: “Is it not fit your lordship should undertake every companion that you give offence to?”

Cloten: “No, I know that; but it is fit I should commit offence to my inferiors.”

1 Lord: “Did you hear of a stranger who has come to court tonight?”

Cloten: “A stranger, and I don’t know of it?”

1 Lord: “There is an Italian come and, tis thought, one of Postumus’ friends.”

Cloten: “Posthumus? A banished rascal; and he’s another, whosoever he be. Come, I’ll go see this Italian. What I have lost today at bowls I’ll win tonight of him.”

Exit Cloten and 1 Lord

2 Lord: (aside) “That such a crafty devil as is his mother should yield the world this ass! A woman who bears all down with her brain; and this her son cannot take two from twenty and leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, thou divine Imogen, what thou endures, between a father by thy step-dame governed, a mother hourly coining plots, a wooer more hateful than the foul expulsion is of thy dear husband. The heavens hold firm the walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaken that temple, thy fair mind, that thou may stand to enjoy thy banished lord and this great land.”

Summary and Analysis

Cloten is displaying his foolish ignorance when told that there is an Italian visitor at court who is a friend to Posthumus. He naturally heads to see him immediately, no doubt with mischief in mind. Once he departs the lord reflects on poor Imogen’s plight, with her hen pecked father, evil step-mother, pathetic wooer and banished husband. And things are about to get stranger still.

Act II

Scene ii

Britain. Imogen’s bedchamber. A trunk in one corner.

Enter Imogen and her lady

Imogen: “What hour is it?”

Lady: “Almost midnight, madam.”

Imogen: “I have read three hours then. My eyes are weak. To bed. Sleep has seized me wholly. (exit lady) To your protection I commend me, gods. From fairies and the tempters of the night, guard me.”

Imogen falls asleep. Iachimo emerges from the trunk.

Iachimo: “How bravely thou becomes thy bed! That I might touch! But kiss; one kiss! Tis her breathing that perfumes the chamber thus. But my design to note the chamber I will write down: such and such pictures; there the window; such the adornment of her bed. But, some natural notes about her body would testify to enrich my inventory. O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! Come off, come off. (he removes her bracelet) Tis mine, and this will witness outwardly, as strongly as the conscience does within, to the madding of her lord. On her left breast, a mole. Here’s a voucher stronger than ever law could make; this secret will force him to think I have picked the lock and taken the treasure of her honour. I have enough. To the trunk again.”

Summary and Analysis

This is a pivotal scene wherein Iachimo emerges from his trunk in order to spy on Imogen’s bedchamber and her body, so as to report his feigned conquest to Postumus, along with presenting to him the very bracelet that he had given her. Earlier, Imogen would not believe any of Iachimo’s false reports about Posthumus. Unfortunately, Posthumus will take for truth Iachimo’s claim of ravishing Imogen, which will send the plot, at least temporarily, into the realm of tragedy. 

Act II

Scene iii

Cymbeline’s palace

Enter Cloten and lords

1 Lord: “Your lordship is the most patient man in loss.’

Cloten: “It would make any man cold to lose. If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough. Its almost morning, is it not? I wish this music would come. I am advised to give her music in the morning; they say it will penetrate. (enter musicians) Come on, tune. If you can penetrate her with your fingering, so. We’ll try with tongue too. If none will do, let her remain and let her consider. (musicians play a song) So, get you gone. If this penetrate I will consider your music the better; if it do not, it is a vice in her ears.”

Enter Cymbeline and the Queen.

Cloten: “Good morrow to your Majesty and to my gracious mother.”

Cymbeline: “Attend you here to the door of our stern daughter? Will she not come forth?”

Cloten: “I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice.”

Cymbeline: “The exile of her minion is too new; she has not forgotten him; some more time must wear the print of his remembrance out, and then she’s yours.”

Queen: “You are most bound to the King, who may prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself to orderly solicity and make denials increase your services. So seem as if you were inspired to do those duties which you tender to her.” 

Enter a messenger

Messenger: “Sir ambassadors from Rome. The one is Caius Lucius.”

Cymbeline: “A worthy fellow, albeit he comes on angry person now; but that’s no fault of his. Our dear son, when you have given good morning to your mistress, attend the Queen and us; we shall have need to employ you towards this Roman.”

Exit all but Cloten.

Cloten: “If she be up, I’ll speak with her; if not, let her lie still and dream. I know her women are about her; what if I line one of her hands? Tis gold which buys admittance; often it does. I will make one of her women lawyer to me, for I yet not understand the case myself.”

Cloten knocks on Imogen’s door.

Lady: “Who’s there that knocks?”

Cloten: “A gentleman.”

Lady: “What’s your lordship’s pleasure?”

Cloten: “Your lady’s person; is she ready?”

Lady: “Ay, to keep to her chamber.”

Cloten: “There is gold for you. Sell me your good report.”

Lady: “What, my good name? The princess!”

Enter Imogen

Cloten: “Good morrow, fairest sister. Your sweet hand.”

Imogen: “Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pain for purchasing but pain. The thanks I give is telling you I am poor of thanks, and scarce can spare them.”

Cloten: “Still I swear I love you.”

Imogen: “I regard it not.”

Cloten: “This is no answer.”

Imogen: “I pray you spare me. I shall unfold equal discourtesy to your best kindness. I am much sorry, sir. You put me to forget a lady’s manners; and learn now, that I, who know my heart, do here pronounce, by the very truth of it, I care not for you, and am so near the lack of charity to accuse myself that I hate you, which I had rather you felt.”

Cloten: “You sin against obedience, which you owe your father. For the contract that you pretend with that base wretch is no contract, none.”

Imogen: “Profane fellow! Were thou the son of Jupiter, thou were too base to be his groom.”

Cloten: “The south fog rot him!”

Enter Pisanio

Imogen: “How now, Pisanio! I am spirited with a fool; frighted and angered worse. Go bid my woman search for a jewel that too casually has left my arm. It was thy master’s. Confident I am last night twas on my arm; I kissed it.”

Pisanio: “Twil not be lost.”

Imogen: “I hope so. Go and search.”

Exit Pisanio

Cloten: “You have abused me. I will inform your father.”

Imogen: “Your mother too. So I leave you, sir, to the worst of discontent.”

Cloten: “I’ll be revenged.”

Summary and Analysis

Cloten is desperate to win over Imogen and has ordered musicians to play for her in the morning. The King and Queen encourage him to be persistent. The way they see it she simply needs more time to forget Posthumus and then she will surely love Cloten. But Cloten has his own ideas and tries bribing one of Imogen’s ladies into doing some bidding for him. Imogen does come out and we witness a very revealing exchange between them. Cloten declares his love for Imogen, but she rejects him soundly, claiming she is very near to hating him. Cloten reminds her that she is being disobedient to her father, who wants her to love Cloten. Pisanio arrives and Imogen asks him to search for the bracelet she cannot seem to find, which we know was stolen by Iachimo. Poor Imogen, indeed, having to deal with Iachimo, Cloten, her father and her wicked step-mother. all while her beloved husband has been banished. Could it get worse? Oh yeah.

Act II

Scene IV

Rome. Philario’s house

Enter Posthumus and Philario

Philario: “See, Iachimo!”

Posthumus: “I hope the briefness of your answer made the speediness of your return.”

Iachimo: “Your lady is one of the fairest I have looked upon. Here are letters for you.”

Posthumus: “Their tenor good, I trust.”

Iachimo: “Tis very likely.”

Philario: “Was Caius Lucius in the British court when you were there?”

Iachimo: “He was expected then. (to Postumus) I’ll make a journey twice as far to enjoy a second not of such sweet shortness which was mine in Britain; for the ring is won.”

Posthumus: “The stone is too hard to come by.”

Iachimo: “Not a whit, your lady being so easy.”

Posthumus: “I hope you know that we must not continue friends.

Iachimo: “Good sir, we must if you keep covenant. I now profess myself the winner of her honour, together with your ring.”

Posthumus: “If you can make it apparent that you have tasted her in bed, my hand and ring are yours.”

Iachimo: “Sir, my circumstances, being so near the truth as I will make them.”

Posthumus: “Proceed.”

Iachimo: “First, her bedchamber, where I confess I slept not, but profess had that was well worth watching – it was hung with tapestry of silk and silver.”

Posthumus: “This is true; and this you might have heard of here.”

Iachimo: “More particulars must justify my knowledge.”

Posthumus: “So they must, or do your honour injury.”

Iachimo: “The chimney is south of the chamber, and the chimney piece is chaste Diana bathing.”

Posthumus: “This is a thing which you might from relation likewise reap, being as it is, much spoken of.”

Iachimo: “The roof of the chamber with golden cherubins is fretted; two winking cupids of silver.”

Posthumus: “This is her honour! Let it be granted you have seen all this. The description of what is in her chamber nothing saves the wager you have laid.”

Iachimo: “Then be pale. See!” (shows the bracelet)

Posthumus: “Jove! Which I left with her?”

Iachimo: “She stripped it from her arm; I see her yet. She gave it to me and said she prized it once.”

Posthumus: “O, no, no, no! Tis true. Here, take this too. (gives him the ring) It is a basilisk unto my eye, and kills me to look upon it. Let there be no honour where there is beauty.”

Philario: “Have patience, sir, and take your ring again; tis not yet won. It may be probable she lost it, or who knows if one of her women, being corrupted, has stolen it from her.”

Posthumus: “Very true; back my ring. Render to me some corporal sign about her, more evident than this; for this was stolen.”

Iachimo: “By Jupiter, I had it from her arm!”

Posthumus: “Hark, he swears by Jupiter. Tis true. Keep the ring, tis true. I am sure she would not lose it. Her attendants are all sworn and honourable. No, he has enjoyed her. She has bought the name of whore thus dearly.”

Philario: “Sir, be patient; this is not strong enough to be believed.”

Posthumus: “Never talk on it; she has been colted by him.”

Iachimo: “If you seek for further satisfying, under her breast lies a mole, and by my life I kissed it; and it gave me present hunger to feed again, though full. You do remember this stain upon her?”

Posthumus: “Ay, and it does confirm another stain, as big as hell can hold.”

Iachimo: “Will you hear more? I’ll be sworn.”

Posthumus: “No swearing. If you will swear you have not done it, you lie; and I will kill thee if thou does deny thou made me cuckold.”

Iachimo: “I’ll deny nothing.”

Posthumus: “O that I had her here to tear her limb-meal! I will go there and do it in the court, before her father.”

Exit Posthumus

Philario: “You have won. Let’s follow him and pervert the present wrath he has against himself.”

Iachimo: “With all my heart.”

Summary and Analysis

Iachimo has returned to Italy and gradually makes his case that he had enjoyed Imogen. Posthumus is unconvinced until Iachimo describes the mole on her breast. Posthumus is heartbroken and enraged. He is also very easily convinced that Imogen has been untrue. Not for a second does he doubt Iachimo, once the mole is described, even though Iachimo is so shady a character and Imogen so pure of heart. Posthumus has been spoken of quite highly by Imogen and his friends until now. He comes across to us as no more than two dimensional but we give him the benefit of the doubt… until now. Here he reveals a most unfortunate character flaw, raging jealousy, which only deepens and worsens in the scenes ahead.

Act II

Scene v

Rome. A room in Philario’s house.

Enter Posthumus.

Posthumus: “We are all bastards, and that most venerable man who I did call my father was I know not where when I was stamped. Some coiner with his tools made me a counterfeit; yet my mother seemed the Diana of that time. So does my wife. O, vengeance, vengeance! That I thought her as chaste as unsunned snow. O, all the devils! This yellow Iachimo in an hour found no opposition. There is no motion that tends to vice in man but I affirm it is the woman’s part. Be it lying, note it, the woman’s; flattery, hers; deceiving, hers; lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; ambitions, coverings, pride, disdain, longings, slanders, mutability, all faults that man may name, nay, that hell knows, why, hers, in part or all; but rather all; for even to vice they are not constant, but are changing still one vice but of a minute old for one not half so old as that. I’ll write against them, detest them, curse them. The very devils cannot plague them better.”

Summary and Analysis

Posthumus broods alone and goes deeper and deeper into his conviction that Imogen is a whore and ‘we all are bastards’. He professes that all of man’s vices stem from women. He goes fully overboard, which seems tragic and unnecessary as we, the audience, know full well that Iachimo is the villain here and Imogen remains blameless and completely devoted to Posthumus, who loses considerable credibility with us for having so little faith in so worthy a woman as Imogen.

Act III (7 scenes)

Scene i

Britain. Cymbeline’s palace.

Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten and Caius Lucius with attendants

Cymbeline: “Now so, what would Augustus Caesar want with us?”

Lucius: “When Julius Caesar, whose remembrance yet lives, was in this Britain and conquered it, thine uncle granted Rome a tribute, yearly of three thousand pounds, which by thee lately is left untendered.”

Queen: “And shall be so ever.”

Cloten: “There be many Caesars. Britain is a world by itself, and we will nothing pay for wearing our own noses.”

Queen: “Caesar made here, but made not here his brag of ‘I came, I saw, I conquered’. With shame has was carried from off our coast twice beaten; and his ships, on our terrible seas cracked easily against our rocks.”

Cloten: “Come, there is no more tribute to be paid. Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and, as I say, there are no more such Caesars. Why tribute? Why should we pay tribute? No more tribute.”

Cymbeline: “Till the injurious Romans did extort this tribute from us, we were free. Caesar’s ambition, which swelled so much that it did almost stretch the sides of the world, did put the yoke upon us; which to shake off becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon ourselves to be.”

Lucius: “I am sorry, Cymbeline, that I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar thine enemy. Receive it from me then: war and confusion in Caesar’s name pronounce I against thee; look for fury not to be resisted.”

Summary and Analysis

Lucius, the Roman ambassador, insists that Britain continue to pay tribute to Rome, as they did during the reign of Julius Caesar. Cymbeline, his Queen and Cloten all insist that Britain is an independent isle and they refuse to consider paying tribute and Lucius essential declares a state of war between Rome and Britain. Interesting that Shakespeare would have the villainous Queen and her loathsome son be a part of these discussions along with the King.

Act III

Scene ii

Britain. Cymbeline’s palace

Enter Pisanio, reading a letter.

Pisanio: “How? Of adultery? Posthumus? O master, what a strange infection has fallen into thy ear! What false Italian has prevailed on thy too ready hearing? Disloyalty? No. She’s punished for her truth, and undergoes, more goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults as would take in some virtue. O my master! Thy mind to her is now as low as were thy fortunes. How? That I should murder her? Her? Her blood? If it be so to do good service, never let me be counted serviceable. (he reads from the letter) ‘Do it. The letter that I have sent her shall give thee opportunity’. O damned paper, black as the ink that’s on thee. Senseless babble. Lo, here she comes.”

Enter Imogen

Imogen: “How now, Pisanio!”

Pisanio: “Madam, here is a letter from my lord.”

Imogen: “Posthumus? You good gods, let what is here contained relish of love and of my lord’s health. (she reads from the letter) ‘Take notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford Haven. What your own love will out of this advise you, follow. He wishes you all happiness who remains loyal to his vow, and your increasing in love, Posthumus.’ O for a horse with wings! Hear’st thou, Pisanio? He is at Milford Haven. Tell me how far tis hither. If one of mean affairs may plod it in a week, why may not I glide there in a day? Tell me how we may steal me hence. Go bid my woman to feign a sickness and provide me presently a riding suit.”

Pisanio: “Madam, you best consider.”

Imogen: “Away, I prithee; do as I bid thee. There is no more to say.”

Summary and Analysis

Posthumus wrote one letter to Pisanio, accusing Imogen of infidelity and instructing Pisanio to murder her, and another to Imogen, informing her that he is at Milford Haven. She immediately makes plans to go to him. The plot thickens here, as Posthumus is acting on his conviction that Iachimo has seduced Imogen and arranging her murder at the hands of his loyal servant, Pisanio, who is also loyal to Imogen. Pisanio immediately cuts to the quick and rightly determines that ‘some false Italian has prevailed on your too ready hearing.’ Surrounded by her angry father, Cymbeline, his wicked Queen and useless wooing son, Cloten, Imogen’s only hope resides in Posthumus, who on account of the lying and villainous Iachimo, wants to have Imogen murdered. And yet, naively, on to Milford Haven she ventures.

Act III

Scene iii

Wales. A cave in the mountains.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius and Arviragus

Belarius: “Hail, thou fair heaven! Now for our mountain sport. Up yonder hill; your legs are young. I’ll tread these flats.”

Guiderius: “We poor unfledged have never winged from view of the nest. Happily, this life is best, if quiet life be best. Well corresponding to your stiff age, but unto us it is a cell of ignorance.”

Arviragus: “What shall we speak of when we are as old as you? We have seen nothing; we are beastly.”

Belarius: “How you speak! Did you but know the city’s usuries – the art of the court, whose top to climb is certain falling, or so slippery that the fear is as bad as falling. O boys, this story the world may read in me: my body is marked with Roman swords. Cymbeline loved me, but in one night a storm, or a robbery, call it what you will, shook down my mellow hangings, and left me bare to weather. My fault being nothing, as I have told you often, but that two villains, whose false oaths prevailed before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline that I was confederate with the Romans. So followed my banishment, and this twenty years this cave has been my world, where I have lived in honest freedom. But up to the mountains! He that strikes the venison first shall be the lord of the feast; to him the other two shall minister. I’ll meet you in the valleys.”

Exit Guiderius and Arviragus

Belarius: (aside) “How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! These boys know little that they are sons to the King, nor does Cymbeline dream that they are alive. They think they are mine; and though trained meanly in the cave, their thoughts do hit the roofs of palaces. This Polydore, the heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who the King his father called Guiderius, when I sit and tell the warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out, the princely blood flows in his cheeks, strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture to act my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, once Aviragus, in as like a figure, strikes life into my speech. Hark, the game is roused. O Cymbeline, heaven and my conscience knows thou did unjustly banish me! Whereon, at three and two years old, I stole these babes, thinking to bar thee of succession as thou reft me of my lands. Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan called, they take for natural father. The game is up.”

Summary and Analysis

The main sub-plot is here finally introduced. King Cymbeline had two little sons, who one day were kidnapped. He knew not what became of them, but we now learn that Belarius stole them in response to being banished on false charges. He has raised the two boys in the mountains of Wales, where they now yearn to see the world. In the end he admits that the game is up. It is time he come clean with them that they are the heirs to Cymbeline’s kingdom. This is yet another example of Shakespeare characters escaping the ornate and corrupted cities and their courts for the simple freedom of the country. Interesting enough, Shakespeare himself will soon finally abandon his busy urban life in London and retire to the Stratford Upon Avon of his youth in the pristine countryside of Warwickshire.

Act III

Scene iv

Wales, near Milford Haven

Enter Pisanio and Imogen

Imogen: “Thou told me the place was near at hand. Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind that makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh from the inward of thee? What’s the matter? Why tender thou that paper to me with a look untender? Speak, man.”

Pisanio: “Please you read and you shall find me, wretched man, a thing the most disdained of fortune.”

Imogen: (reads) ‘Thy mistress, Pisanio, has played the strumpet in my bed, the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. I speak from proof as strong as my grief and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part, thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life; I shall give thee opportunity at Milford Haven; if thou fear to strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pander to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal.’

Pisanio: “What shall I need to draw my sword? The paper has cut her throat already. No, tis slander, whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue out-venoms all the worms of Nile. What cheer, madam?”

Imogen: “False to his bed? What is it to be false? To lie in watch there, and to think on him? That’s false to his bed, is it?”

Pisanio: “Alas, good lady!”

Imogen: “I false! Thy conscience witness! Iachimo, thou did accuse him of incontinency; thou then looked like a villain. Some jay of Italy has betrayed him. To pieces with me! O, men’s vows are women’s traitors! By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought put on for villainy.”

Pisanio: “Good madam, hear me.”

Imogen: “So thou, Posthumus, goodly and gallant shall be false and perjured from thy great fail. Come, fellow, do thou thy master’s bidding. Look! I draw the sword myself; take it, and hit the innocent mansion of my love, my heart. Fear not; tis empty of all things but grief; thy master is not there, who was indeed the riches of it. Do his bidding: strike. But now thou seems a coward.”

Pisanio: “Hence, vile instrument! Thou shall not damn my hand.”

Imogen: “Why, I must die; and if I do not by thy hand, thou are not servant of thy master’s. Against self-slaughter there is a prohibition so divine that cravens my weak hand. Come, here’s my heart. What is here? The scriptures of the loyal Posthumus all turned to heresy? Thus may poor fools believe false teachers. Prithee dispatch. The lamb entreats the butcher. Where is thy knife? Thou art too slow to do thy master’s bidding, when I desire it too.”

Pisanio: “O gracious lady, since I received command to do this business I have not slept one wink.”

Imogen: “Do it, and then to bed. Why has thou abused so many miles with a pretense? This place?”

Pisanio: “Good lady, hear me with patience.”

Imogen: “Talk thy tongue weary – speak. I have heard I am a strumpet, and my ear, therein false struck, can take no greater wound. But speak.”

Pisanio: “It cannot be but that my master is abused. Some villain has done you both this cursed injury.”

Imogen: “Some Roman courtesan!”

Pisanio: “n my life! I’ll give but notice that you are dead, and send him some bloody sign of it, for tis commanded that I should do so. You shall be missed at court, and that will well confirm it.”

Imogen: “Why, good fellow, what shall I do the while?”

Pisanio: “If you’ll back to the court -“

Imogen: “No court, no other, nor no more ado with that harsh, noble, simple nothing -that Cloten, whose love-suit has been to me as fearful as a siege.”

Pisanio: “If not at court, then not in Britain must you bide.”

Imogen: “Were then? Has Britain all the sun that shines?”

Pisanio: “The ambassador, Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford Haven tomorrow. Now, if you could wear a mind as dark as your fortune is, and but disguise that which it appears itself must not yet be but by self-danger, you should tread a course pretty and full of view; yea, happily, near the residence of Posthumus; report should render him hourly to your ear as truly as he moves.”

Imogen: “O! For such means I would adventure.”

Pisanio: “Well then, here’s the point: you must forget to be a woman; change fear and niceness into a waggish courage; quick-answered, saucy, and as quarrelous as the weasel.”

Imogen: “I see into thy end, and am almost a man already.”

Pisanio: “First, make yourself but like one. I have already in my cloak-bag a doublet, hat, hose, and with what imitation you can borrow, before noble Lucius present yourself and desire your service. Doubtless with joy he will embrace you; for he’s honourable, and, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad – you have me, and I will never fail.”

Imogen: “Thou art all the comfort the gods will diet me with. This attempt I am soldier to, and will abide it with a prince’s courage.”

Pisanio: “Well, madam, we must take a short farewell. My noble mistress, here is a box; I had it from the Queen. What’s in it is a precious. If you are sick at sea or on land, a dram of this will drive away distemper.”

Imogen: “Amen. I thank thee.”

Summary and Analysis

Pisanio and Imogen approach Milford Haven and he has yet to share with her the terrible news of her supposed infidelity and Posthumus’ instruction to Pisanio to kill her. He finally has her read the dreadful letter from Posthumus to Pisanio revealing everything and she is in shock and despair, begging Pisanio to kill her and get it over with quickly. This he cannot do. Instead he has concocted a plan. They will fake Imogen’s death and investigate who has deceived him into believing that Imogen has been unfaithful. Perhaps, in this way, they can expose the truth and restore his love for her. Imogen instructs her to dress as a boy and employ herself in the service of Caius Lucius, the Roman military leader, where Posthumus likely is. He only claimed to Imogen that he was in Milford haven, so that Pisanio could isolate her in the remote mountains of Wales and dispatch her. Before they part, Pisanio gives Imogen the dram of what the Queen believed was poison, but what, in fact, the doctor wisely made into a sleeping potion, and what the Queen told Pisanio was a restorative and soothing cordial. He therefore tells her to take it with her, in the event she should become ill on her journey. While Posthumus has proven to be as foolish as anyone in the play, Imogen remains a beacon of light and purity. Hearing the news that she is so accused by Posthumus, who orders her death, she nonetheless, rebounds gracefully to adopt Pisanio’s plan to further investigate the circumstances of these bewildering accusations. It becomes increasingly clear why many critics believe Imogen to be Shakespeares most beautiful female character. No one in the play can even come close to matching her natural charm and eloquence or her resilience and strength of character in the face of adversity. Whatever she is doing with Posthumus is the question. Perhaps she believed her only other realistic choice was Cloten, which would explain a lot!

Act III

Scene v

Britain. Cymbeline’s palace.

Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten and Lucius

Cymbeline: “Farewell.”

Lucius: “Thanks, royal sir. I am right sorry that I must report ye my master’s enemy.”

Cymbeline: “Our subjects, sir, will not endure his yoke.”

Lucius: “I desire of you a conduct overland, to Milford Haven.”

Cymbeline: “My lords, You are appointed for that office. Farewell, noble Lucius.”

Lucius: “Your hand, my lord.”

Cloten: “Receive it friendly, but from this time forth I wear it as your enemy.”

Exit Lucius

Cymbeline: “Lucius had written already to the emperor how it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness. He moves his war for Britain.”

Queen: “Tis must be looked to speedily and strongly.”

Cymbeline: “My gentle Queen, where is our daughter? She has not appeared before the Roman. She looks at us like a thing more made of malice than of duty. We have noted it. Call her before us.”

Exit a messenger

Queen: “Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired has her life been; the cure, whereof, my lord, tis time must do. Beseech your majesty, forebear sharp speeches to her; she’s a lady so tender of rebukes that words are strokes and strokes death to her.”

Re-enter messenger

Cymbeline: “Where is she, sir? How can her contempt be answered?”

Messenger: “Please you, sir, her chambers are all locked, and there’s no answer that will be given to the loud noise we make.”

Cymbeline: “Her doors locked? Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I fear prove false!”

Exit the King

Cloten: “That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, I have not seen these two days.”

Queen: “Go look after.”

Exit Cloten

Queen: “Pisanio, thou that stands so for Posthumus! He has a drug of mine. I pray his absence proceed by swallowing that; for he believes it is a thing most precious. But for her, where is she gone? Happily, despair has seized her; or, winged with fervour of her love, she’s flown to her desired Posthumus. Gone she is to death or to dishonour, and my end could make good use of either. She being down, I have the placing of the British crown.”

Re-enter Cloten

Cloten: “Tis certain she has fled. Go in and cheer the King. He rages; none dare come about him.”

Queen: “All the better.”

Exit Queen

Cloten: “I love and hate her; for she’s fair and royal. I love her therefore; but disdaining me and throwing favours on the low Posthumus slanders so her judgment that what’s else rare is choked; and on that point I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, to be revenged upon her.” (Enter Pisanio) “Who is here? Come hither. Ah, you precious pander. Villain, where is your lady? I will not ask again. Close villain, I’ll have this secret from thy heart, or rip thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus? From whose so many weights of baseness cannot a dram of worth be drawn.”

Pisanio: “Alas, my lord, how can she be with him? He is in Rome.”

Cloten: “Where is she, sir? Satisfy me what has become of her.”

Pisanio: “O my all-worthy lord!”

Cloten: ” All-worthy villain! Discover where thy mistress is at once, at the next word. Speak, or thy silence on the instant is thy condemnation and thy death.”

Pisanio: “Then sir, this paper is the history of my knowledge touching her flight.”

Pisanio presents a letter

Cloten: “Let’s see it. I will pursue her even to Augustus’ throne.”

Pisanio: (aside) “What he learns by this may prove his travel, not her danger. I’ll write to my lord she’s dead. O Imogen, safe may thou wander, safe return again!”

Cloten: “Sirrah, is this letter true?”

Pisanio: “Sir, as I think.”

Cloten: “Sirrah, if thou would not be a villain, but do me true service, undergo those employments wherein I should have cause to use thee with a serious industry – that is, what villainy soever I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly – I would think thee an honest man. Will thou serve me?”

Pisanio: “Sir, I will.”

Cloten: “Has thou any of thy late master’s garments in thy possession?”

Pisanio: “I have, my lord.”

Cloten: “The first service thou does for me, fetch that suit hither. Go.”

Pisanio: “I shall, my lord.”

Exit Pisanio

Cloten: “Meet thee at Milford Haven. Even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. She said that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person. With that suit upon my back will I ravish her; first kill him, and in her eyes. There shall she see my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and when my lust has dined – which, as I say, to vex her I will execute in the clothes that she so praised – to the court I’ll knock her back, foot her home again. She has despised me rejoicingly, and I’ll be merry in my revenge.”

Enter Pisanio with Posthumus’ clothes

Cloten: “Bring this apparel to my chamber; thou will be a voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous and true, preferment shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford. Would I had wings.

Exit Cloten

Pisanio: “Thou bids me to my loss; for true to me were to prove false, which I will never be, to him who is most true. To Milford go, and find not her whom thou pursues. Flow, flow, you heavenly blessings, on her! This fool’s speed be crossed with slowness!”

Summary and Analysis

Cymbeline prepares for war, insisting that Britain will not pay tribute to Rome. He is then informed that Imogen has not been seen in days and then learns that she has fled the court. Cloten begins to plan revenge on both Posthumus and Imogen. When Pisanio returns from Milford Haven, Cloten demands from him Imogen’s whereabouts. Pisanio sends Cloten to where he knows Imogen will no longer be. He also gives Cloten clothes of Posthumus, who expects to kill Posthumus and then rape Imogen while wearing Posthumus’ outfit. Cloten stoops so low in this scene, with his plans for murder and rape, that he is no longer simply a sadly pathetic character, but rather, in addition, a purely evil one, who Shakespeare will dispose of accordingly in the following act.

Act III

Scene vi

Wales. Before the cave of Belarius

Enter Imogen in boy’s clothes.

Imogen: “I see a man’s life as a tedious one. I have tired myself, and for two nights have made the ground my bed. I should be sick but that my resolution helps me. Ho! Who’s here? If anything that’s civil, speak; if savage, take or lend. Ho! No answer? Then I’ll enter.”

Imogen enters the cave

Belarius: “You, Polydore, have proven best woodsman and are master of the feast. Cadwal and I will play the cook and servant.”

Guiderius: “I am thoroughly weary.”

Aviragus: “I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite.”

Belarius: (looking into the cave) “But that it eats our victuals, I should think here were a fairy. By Jupiter, an angel! Behold divineness no elder than a boy.”

Enter Imogen

Imogen: “Good masters, harm me not. Before I entered here I called, and thought to have begged or bought what I have taken. I have stolen nought. Here’s money for my meat.”

Belarius: “Wither bound?”

Imogen: “To Milford Haven.”

Belarius: “What’s your name?”

Imogen: “Fedele, sir. I have a kinsman who is bound for Italy; he embarked at Milford, to whom being going, almost spent with hunger, I am fallen in this offence.”

Belarius: “Prithee, fair youth, think us no churls, nor measure our good minds by this rude place we live in. Boys, bid him welcome.”

Aviragus: “I’ll love him as my brother. Most welcome! You fall amongst friends.”

Imogen: (aside) “Would it had been so that they had been my father’s sons! Then had my prize been more equal ballasting to thee, Posthumus.”

Belarius: “He wrings at some distress.”

Guiderius: “Would I could free it.”

Imogen: (aside) “Great men, who had a court no bigger than this cave. I’d change my sex, to be companion with them, since Posthumus be false.”

Belarius: “Boys, we’ll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, come in. Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supped, we’ll mannerly demand thee of thy story, so far as thou will speak it.”

Imogen: “Thanks, sir.”

Summary and Analysis

Imogen, dressed a s boy, stumbles upon the cave of Belarius and his two sons, as Cymbeline’s three children are finally re-united. She introduces herself as Fedele and although they have no idea that this is their sister the two boys are strangely attracted to ‘Fedele’ right away. Aviragus: “I’ll love him as my brother.” The two plots are now interwoven and will remain so.

Act III

Scene vii

Rome, a public place

Enter two Roman soldiers and Tribunes

1 Senator: “This is the tenor of the Emperor’s writ: that we do incite the gentry to this business. He creates Lucius proconsul. Long live Caesar!”

Trinune: “Is Lucius general of the forces?”

2 Senator: “Ay.”

Summary and Analysis

Rome prepares for war, with Lucius leading the army.

Act IV (4 scenes)

Scene i

Wales. Near the cave of Belarius.

Enter Cloten.

Cloten: “I am near to the place where they should meet, if Pisanio has mapped it truly. Therein I must play the workman. The lines of my body are as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong, not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth. Yet this imperceiverant thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces before her face; and all this done, spurn her home to her father, who may, happily, be a little angry for my so rough usage; but my mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn all into my commendations. Out, sword, and to a sore purpose! This is the very description of their meeting-place.”

Summary and Analysis

Cloten has arrived in Wales, near the cave of Belarius and his sons. Pisanio clearly sent him to the remote mountains of Wales. However, what Pisanio did not know is that Imogen has also made her way to the same region. Cloten compares himself favourable to Posthumus and then describes his plan to kill Posthumus and ravish Imogen in Posthumus’ clothing, before dragging her back to the court of Cymbeline as his wife. This is considered a comedy, so the villain will inevitably get his comeuppance (actually, in the very next scene) and the lead couple will endure and survive and even thrive by the journey’s end.

Act IV

Scene ii

Wales. Before the cave of Belarius.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, Aviragus and Imogen (Fidele)

Belarius: (to Imogen) “You are not well. Remain here in the cave.”

Aviragus: (to Imogen) “Brother, stay here. Are we not brothers?”

Guiderius: “Go you to hunting: I’ll abide with him.”

Imogen: “So sick I am not, yet I am not well, so please you, leave me. I am ill, but your being by me cannot amend me. I am not very sick, since I can reason of it.”

Guiderius: “I love thee as I do love my father.”

Arviragus: “I know not why I love this youth.”

Belarius: (aside) “O noble strain! I’m not their father.”

Imogen: (aside) “These are kind creatures. I am sick still; heart sick. Pisanio, I’ll now taste of thy drug.” (swallows the Queen’s concoction)

Belarius: “Pray, be not sick.”

Imogen: “Well or ill, I am bound to you.”

Exit Imogen into the cave

Enter Cloten

Cloten: “I cannot find those runagate; that villain has mocked me. I am faint.”

Belarius: “Those runagate? Means he not us? I partly know him; tis Cloten, the son of the Queen. I fear some ambush. We are held as outlaws.”

Guiderius: “He is but one. Pray you away; let me alone with him.”

Exit Belarus and Arviragus

Cloten: “Soft, what are you? Some villainous mountaineers? What slave art thou? Thou art a robber, a law breaker, a villain. Yield thee, thief.”

Guiderius: “To who? To thee? What art thou? Why should I yield to thee?”

Cloten: “Thou villain base, know me not by my clothes?”

Guiderius: “No, rascal. Thou art some fool; I am loath to beat thee.”

Cloten: “Thou injurious thief. Hear about my name and tremble.”

Guiderius: “What’s thy name?”

Cloten: “Cloten, thy villain.”

Guiderius: “Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, I cannot tremble at it. Were it a toad, an adder or a spider, t’would move me sooner.”

Cloten: “Thou shall know I am son to the Queen. Art not afraid?”

Guiderius: “At fools I laugh and not fear them.”

Cloten: “Die the death. When I have slain thee with my proper hand, on the gates of Lud’s Tower will I set your head, rustic mountaineer.”

Re-enter Guiderius with Cloten’s head

Guiderius: “This Cloten was a fool. Not even Hercules could have knocked out his brains, for he had none.”

Belarius: “What has thou done?”

Guiderius: “Cut off one Cloten’s head, son to the Queen, who called me a traitor and swore he would take us in and displace our heads and set them on Lud’s Tower.”

Belarius: “We are all undone.”

Guiderius: “Why, worthy father, what have we to lose but that he swore to take our lives? The law protects not us; then why should we be tender to let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us.”

Belarius: “He must have some attendants. Not frenzy, not absolute madness, could so far have raved, to bring him here alone. Perhaps it may be heard at court that such as we cave here, hunt here and are outlaws.”

Guiderius: “With his own sword, which he did wave against my throat, I have taken his head from him. I’ll throw it into the creek and let it to the sea and tell the fishes he is the Queen’s son, Cloten.”

Exit Guiderius and Aviragus

Belarius: “I fear it will be revenged. Well, it is done. O thou goddess, thou divine nature, thou blazons in these two princely boys. Tis wonder that an invisible instinct should frame them to royalty unlearned, honour untaught, civility not seen from other, valour that widely grows in them; yet still its strange what Cloten’s being here to us portends, or what his death will bring us.”

Re-enter Guiderius and Arviragus with Imogen apparently dead

Arviragus: “The bird is dead who we have made so much on. I had rather have skipped from sixteen years of age to sixty than have seen this.”

Guiderius: “O sweetest, fairest lily!”

Belarius: “O melancholy! Jove knows what man thou might have made. Thou died a most rare boy, of melancholy.”

Arviragus: “I thought he slept. With fairest flowers I will sweeten thy sad grave.”

Guiderius: “Let us bury him.”

Belarius: “Great grief, I see Cloten is quite forgotten. He was a Queen’s son, boys; and though he became our enemy, our foe was princely; and though you took his life, as being our foe, yet bury him as a prince.”

Guiderius: “Come, lay him down.”

Belarius: “Here are a few flowers. The ground that gave them first has them again. Their pleasures here are past and so is their pain.”

Exit all but Imogen

Imogen: (awaking) “Yes, sir, to Milford Haven. Which is the way? Can it be six miles yet? Faith, I’ll lie down and sleep. But soft! (seeing the body) This bloody man I hope I dream; for so I thought I was a cave keeper to honest creatures. But tis not so. I tremble still with fear; a headless man? The garments of Posthumus? This is his hand, his foot Mercurial, his Martial thigh, the brawns of Hercules; but his jovial face – murder in heaven! How! Tis gone. Pisanio, who conspired with that devil, Cloten, has here cut off my lord. O Posthumus! Alas, where is thy head? Ay, me! How should this be? This is Pisanio’s deed, and Cloten’s. O, my lord, my lord.

Imogen faints on the body

Enter Lucius, captains and a soothsayer

Lucius: “Now, sir, What have you dreamed of late of this war’s purpose?”

Soothsayer: “I saw the Roman eagle vanish in the sunbeams, which portends, unless my sins abuse my divination, success to the Roman host.”

Lucius: “What trunk is here without his top? How? A page sleeping on him? But dead, rather. Let’s see the boy’s face.”

Captain: “He’s alive, my lord.”

Lucius: “He’ll then instruct us of this body. Young one, inform us of thy fortunes; for it seems they crave to be demanded. Who is this thou makes your bloody pillow? What’s thy interest in this sad wreck? Who is it? What art thou?”

Imogen: “I am nothing. This was my master, a very valiant Briton, who here lies slain. Alas! There are no more such masters.”

Lucius: “Say his name, good friend.”

Imogen: ” Richard Du Champ. (aside) If I do lie and do no harm by it, I hope they’ll pardon it.”

Lucius: “Thy name?”

Imogen: “Fidele, sir.”

Lucius: “Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name. Will thou take thy chance with me? I will not say thou shall be so well mastered; but be sure, no less beloved. Go with me.”

Imogen: “I’ll follow, sir, but first I’ll hide my master from the flies, as deep as pickaxes can dig; and when I have strewed his grave, and on it said a century of prayers, such as I can, twice over, I’ll weep and sigh; and leaving so his service, follow you.”

Lucius: “Ay, good youth; and rather father thee than master thee. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes. Some falls are means the happier to arise.”

Summary and Analysis

Imogen remains with Belarius, Guiderius and Aviragus but takes ill. While they are out hunting she takes the potion that Pisanio gave her, thinking it is medicine. What we know is that it is a strong sedative, and she enters into a deep sleep. Cloten arrives in the area, dressed as Posthumus, and encounters the three aforementioned cave dwellers. He is very rude with them and ends up fighting Guiderius, who cuts off his head. Belarius recognizes that this was Cloten and worries they will be punished for killing him. They find Imogen (Fedele) in his deep sleep and assume he is dead. They are all deeply dismayed and lay both Imogen’s and Cloten’s body next to one another and depart for a time. Imogen wakes up to find what appears to be Posthumus’ headless body next to her. Grief stricken, she lays herself on his lifeless body. Meanwhile the Roman army, arrives, led by Lucius, and they come upon the two seemingly dead bodies. Imogen, dressed as Fedele, awakens and offers herself as a page to Lucius. So Cymbeline’s three children are re-united, one of them kills Cloten and they assume Imogen is dead as well, as she prepares to return to Rome with Lucius. As we said initially, this is a very busy plot!

Act IV

Scene iii

Britain. Cymbeline’s palace.

Enter Cymbeline, Lords and Pisanio

Cymbeline: “Again, bring me word how it is with her. A fever with the absence of her son; a madness, of which her life’s in danger. Imogen, the great part of my comfort, gone; my queen upon a desperate bed, and in a time when fearful wars point at me; her son gone; it strikes me past the hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow, who needs must know of her departure and does seem so ignorant, we’ll enforce it from thee by a sharp torture.”

Pisanio: “Sir, my life is yours; I humbly set it at your will; but for my mistress, I nothing know of where she remains, why gone, nor when she purposes to return.”

Lord: “Good, my liege, the day that she was missing he was here. I dare be bound he’s true and shall perform all parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten, there wants no diligence in seeking him, and will no doubt be found.”

Cymbeline: “The time is troublesome.”

Lord: “So please your Majesty, the Roman legions are landed on your coast, with a supply of Roman gentlemen by the Senate sent.”

Cymbeline: “Let’s withdraw, and meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not what can from Italy annoy us; but we grieve at chances here. Away!”

Exit all but Pisanio

Pisanio: “I heard no letter from my master since I wrote him that Imogen was slain. Tis strange not to hear from my mistress, who did promise to yield me often tidings. Neither know I what has become of Cloten, but remain perplexed in all. The heavens still must work. Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.

Summary and Analysis

Cymbeline is still desperate to learn what has become of Imogen and Cloten. His wife is ill and in a state of madness over Cloten. He presses Pisanio, who really knows nothing of either of their whereabouts. Cymbeline is advised to focus on the Roman invasion but he is too preoccupied with these domestic matters involving his daughter, step son and queen.

Act IV

Scene iv

Wales. At the Cave of Belarius.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius and Arviragus.

Guierius: “What hope have we in hiding? This way the Romans must slay us.”

Belarius: “Sons, we’ll higher to the mountains: there secure us. Newness of Cloten’s death may drive from that which we have done, whose answer would be death, drawn on with torture.”

Aviragus: “It is not likely that when they hear the Roman horses neigh, that they will waste their time upon our note, to know from whence we are.”

Belarus: “O, I am known by many in their army. Have with you, boys! That is my bed, too, lads and there I’ll lie. Lead, lead! (aside) The time seems long; their blood thinks scorn till it fly out and show them princes born.”

Summary and Analysis

The armies are very near to the cave and Belarius wants to lay low, as he will be well known to many of the English fighters and does not want to be seen where Cloten was murdered. But his sons are anxious to fight for King Cymbeline and in the end Belarius relents and tells them to ‘lead on’. This is the end of act IV. The extensive resolution scenes await. But with a plot this complex there are shreds of pieces widely scattered and Shakespeare will summon up his utmost skill to bring this one to a more than satisfactory conclusion. Buckle up!

Act V (5 scenes)

Scene i

Britain. The Roman camp.

Enter Posthumus, with a bloody handkerchief

Posthumus: “Yea, bloody cloth, I’ll keep thee; for I wished thou should be coloured thus. O, Pisanio! Every good servant does not all commands; no bond but to do just ones. I am brought hither among the Italian gentry, and to fight against my lady’s kingdom. Tis enough that, Briton, I have killed 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 British peasant. So I’ll die for thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life is every breath a death. And thus unknown 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 of the Leonati in me!”

Summary and Analysis

Posthumus finds himself a soldier in the Italian army but decides he has done enough against Briton, by engineering the death of Imogen. Pisanio has sent him a bloody handkerchief which supposedly proves he followed Posthumus’ command to kill her. He decides to switch clothes, in the midst of battle, and appear as a Biritish peasant.

Act V

Scene ii

Briton. A field of battle between the British and the Roman camps.

Enter Lucius, Iachimo and the Romans at one door and the British army at another, with Posthumus following like a poor soldier. Then enter again Posthumus and Iachimo in a skirmish. Iachimo is vanquished and disarmed and leaves.

Iachimo: “The heaviness and guilt within my bosom takes off my manhood. I have belied a lady, the princess of this country, and the air on it raveningly enfeebles me.”

The battle continues; the British fly; Cymbeline is taken. Then enter to his rescue Belarius, Guiderius and Arviragus

Belarius: “Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the ground; the lane is guarded; nothing routs us but the villainy of our fears.”

Guiderius and Arviragus: “Stand, stand, and fight!”

Re-enter Posthumus and several British. They rescue Cymbeline. Then re-enter Lucius and Iachimo, with Imogen.

Lucius: “Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself. It is a day turned strangely.”

Summary and Analysis

The battle rages on between the British and the Romans. Posthumus is disguised and defeats Iachimo in a skirmish. Iachimo expresses regrets that he falsely accused Imogen. Cymbeline is taken prisoner but then Belarius arrives with his two boys, Guiderius and Arviragus, and they save the day. Posthumus and several British soldiers re-take Cymbeline. The British are victorious in the end. The complex plot inches along. Posthumus had made his way to Italy, having been banished from Briton. He joined Lucius’ army for a time but now switches, out of guilt, back to the side of the British. Imogen has also made he way to Italy, disguised as Fedele, as a page to Lucius. Iachimo, an Italian, fights for Italy. The Romans are fighting the British in Wales near the cave of Belarius and his two boys, who join the battle and help free Cymbeline, who is really their father, from Roman captivity. So most of the principle characters are assembled, as things slowly prepare to sort themselves out in this final act.

Act V

Scene iii

Another part of the field.

Enter Posthumus and a British lord.

Lord: “Came thou from where they made the stand?”

Posthumus: “I did. All was lost, but that the heavens fought. The King himself of his wings destitute, the army broken, and but the backs of Britons seen, all flying, through a straight lane – the enemy, full hearted, lolling the tongue with slaughtering, that the straight path was damned with dead men and cowards living to die with lengthened shame.”

Lord: “Where was this lane?”

Posthumus: “Close by the battle, which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, and an honest one, I warrant, in doing this for his country. Athwart this lane, he, with two striplings, made good the passage, cried to those who fled ‘Our British hearts die flying, not our men. Stand!’ These three, three thousand confident, in act as many, by example, began to grin like lions upon the pikes of the hunters. Then began a stop in the chaser and anon, a rout, confusion thick. Ten chased by one are now each one the slaughterer of twenty.”

Lord: “This was strange chance: a narrow lane, an old man and two boys.”

Posthumus: “Nay, do not wonder at it. Two boys, an old man and a lane preserved the British.”

Exit the lord

Posthumus: “For being now a favourer to the British, I have resumed again the part I came in. Fight I will no more, but yield me to the veriest hind that shall once touch my shoulder.”

Enter two British captains and soldiers.

1 Captain: “Great Jupiter be praised! Lucius is taken. ‘Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels.”

2 Captain: “There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, that gave the affront with them.”

1 Captain: “So it is reported; but none can be found. Stand! Who goes there?”

Posthumus: “A Roman.”

2 Captain: “Lay hands on him; a dog! Bring him to the King.”

Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus and Pisanio, with Roman captives. The captains present Posthumus to Cymbeline, who delivers him over to a jailer.

Summary and Analysis

We hear about how the British were being routed until the old man and his two sons saved the day in the narrow laneway, fighting bravely and convincing the fleeing British to turn and fight. They had the Romans on the run and Lucius is taken prisoner. Then Posthumus once again assumes the garb of a Roman in order to deliberately be taken prisoner by the British. Things happen fast here, but of significance is Belarus and his boys rescuing Cymbeline, their actual father, and Posthumus purposefully being taken prisoner by the British. Again, its all slowly beginning to come together in this ‘comedy’, meaning all is destined to turn out well, except for the villains. Cloten is already dead and things don’t look good for the Queen. Iachimo will repent and be forgiven.

Act V

Scene iv

Britain. A prison.

Enter Posthumus and two jailers.

1 Jailer: “You shall not now be stolen, as you have locks upon you.”

Exit jailers

Posthumus: “Most welcome, bondage! For thou art a way, I think, to liberty. My conscience, thou art fettered more than my shanks and wrists. Is it enough that I am sorry? For Imogen’s dear life take mine; and though it is not so dear, it is a life. And so, great powers, if you will take this audit, take this life, and cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen! I’ll speak to thee in silence.”

Posthumus falls asleep.

Enter, as an apparition, Sicilius Leonatus, father to Posthumus, and his wife, mother to Posthumus. Then follow the two young Leonati, brothers to Posthumus, with wounds, as they died in the wars. They all circle around Posthumus as he sleeps.

Sicilius Leonatus: “No more, thou thunder master, show thy spite on mortal flies. Has my poor boy done aught but well, whose face I never saw? I died while in the womb he stayed, attending nature’s law.”

Mother: “From me was Posthumus ripped, came crying amongst his foes, a thing of pity.”

Sicilius Leonatus: “He deserved the praise of the world as great Sicilius’ heir.”

Mother: “With marriage wherefore was he mocked to be exiled and thrown from his dearest one, sweet Imogen?”

Sicilius Leonatus: “Why did you suffer Iachimo, slight thing of Italy, to taint his nobler heart and brain with needless jealousy.”

Mother: “Since, Jupiter, our son is good, take off his miseries.”

Brothers: “Help, Jupiter!”

Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning. He throws a thunderbolt. The ghosts fall on their knees.

Jupiter: “No more, you petty spirits of regions low offend our hearing. Hush! How dare you ghosts accuse the thunderer. No care of yours it is; you know tis ours. Whom best I love I cross. Be content. Your low-laid son the gods will uplift. He trials are spent. He shall be lord of Lady Imogen. And so away with your impatience, lest you stir up mine.

Jupiter ascends

All: “Thanks, Jupiter!”

The ghosts vanish

Posthumus: (waking) “Sleep, thou has been a father to me; and thou has created a mother and two brothers. But O scorn, gone! They went hence so soon as they were born. And so I am awake, dream as I have done. I wake and find nothing.”

Enter a jailer

Jailer: “Come sir, are you ready for death?”

Posthumus: “Over-roasted, rather; ready long ago.”

Jailer: “Hanging is the word, sir. If you be ready for that, you are well cooked. A heavy reckoning for you, sir.”

Posthumus: “I am merrier to die than thou are to live.”

Jailer: “Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache. But a man who was to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.”

Posthumus: “Yes indeed, do I, fellow.”

Jailer: “Your death has eyes in its head, then; you must either be directed by some that take upon them to know, or to take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or jump the after-inquiry on your own peril. And how you shall speed in your journey’s end , I think you’ll never return to tell one. What an innate mock is this, that a man should have the best use of eyes to see the way of blindness.”

Enter a messenger

Messenger: “Knock off his manacles: bring your prisoner to the King.”

Posthumus: “Thou brings good news. I am called to be made free.”

Jailer: “I’ll be hanged then.”

Summary and Analysis

In a British prison Posthumus asks the gods to take his life as payment for Imogen’s. Then he falls asleep and is visited by the ghosts of his father, mother and two brothers, who plead with Jupiter to end his suffering. Jupiter appears and chides them for appealing to him for help but then tells them that his trials are over and he shall live to be with Imogen. He awakens with a sense that he has been visited by his late family, although they are gone. The jailer tells him he is condemned to die and he claims that he is happy to die just as a messenger arrives to tell him that he being freed and brought before the King. Many critics are appalled by the writing in this scene around the ghosts and Jupiter. It has led several of them to insist that Shakespeare could not possibly have written these Iines, especially as they are soon contrasted by exceptionally well written lines between Posthumus and his jailer. Regardless, he is about to face the king who exiled him at the beginning of the play, and Jupiter has informed us of his impending reconciliation with Imogen.

Act V

Scene v

Briton. Cymbeline’s tent.

Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Aviragus, Pisanio, lords and attendants.

Cymbeline: “Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made. Preservers of my throne, woe is my heart, that the poor soldier who so richly fought cannot be found. He shall be happy who can find him.”

Belarius: “I never saw such noble fury in so poor a thing.”

Cymbeline: “No tidings of him?”

Pisanio: “He has been searched among the dead and the living, but no trace of him.”

Cymbeline: (to Belarius, Guiderius and Aviragus) “The reward will I add to you, the liver, the heart and the brain of Britain. Tis now the time to ask of whence you are. Report it.”

Belarius: “In Cambria we are born, and gentlemen. We are honest.”

Cymbeline: “Bow your knees and arise my knights. I will fit you with dignities becoming your estates.”

Enter Cornelius and ladies

Cymbeline: “There’s business in these faces. Why so sadly greet you our victory?”

Cornelius: “Hail, great King! To sour your happiness I must report the Queen is dead.

Cymbeline: “Who worse than a physician would this report become? How ended she?”

Cornelius: “With horror, madly dying, like her life; which, being cruel to the world, concluded most cruel to herself. What she confessed I will report.”

Cymbeline: “Prithee, say.”

Cornelius: “First, she confessed she never loved you; only affected greatness got by you, not you; married your royalty, was wife to your place; abhorred your person.”

Cymbeline: “She alone knew this. But that she spoke it dying, I would not believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.”

Cornelius: “Your daughter she did confess was a scorpion to her sight; whose life, but that her flight prevented it, she had taken off by poison.”

Cymbeline: “O most delicate fiend! Who is it can read a woman? Is there more?”

Cornelius: “More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had for you a mortal mineral, which, being took, should by the minute feed on life, and, lingering, by inches waste you, in which time she purposed to work her son into the adoption of the crown; but failing of her end by his strange absence, grew shameless and desperate, opened her purpose, repented the evil she hatched were not effected; so, despairing, died.”

Cymbeline: “Heard you all this, her women?”

Lady: “We did, so please your Highness.”

Cymbeline: “Mine eyes were not at fault, for she was beautiful; mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, that thought her like her seeming. It would have been vicious to have mistrusted her; yet, O my daughter. Heaven mend all!”

Enter Lucius, Iachimo, the soothsayer and other Roman prisoners, guarded; Posthumus behind, and Imogen.

Cymbeline: :”Thou comes not, Caius, for tribute.”

Lucius: “Consider, sir, the chance of war. The day was yours by accident; had it gone with us, we should not, when the blood was cool, have threatened our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods will have it thus, that nothing but our lives may be called ransom, let it come. This one thing only I will entreat: my boy, a Briton born, let him be ransomed. Never master had a page so kind, so duteous, diligent and true. He has done no Briton harm, though he has served a Roman. Save him, sir.”

Cymbeline: “I have surely seen him. His favour is familiar to me. Boy, thou has looked yourself into my grace, and art my own. Ask of Cymbeline what boon thou will, fitting my bounty and thy state, and I’ll give it.”

Imogen: “I humbly thank your Highness.”

Cymbeline: “What’s thy name?”

Imogen: “Fidele, sir.”

Cymbeline: “Thou art my good youth, my page; I’ll be thy master. Walk with me and speak freely.”

Cymbeline and Imogen converse apart.

Belarius: “Is not this boy revived from death?”

Guiderius: “The same dead thing alive.”

Belarius: “Peace, peace! See further. He eyes us not. Forbear. Creatures may be alike; were it he, I am sure he would have spoken to us.”

Pisanio: (aside) “It is my mistress. She is living.”

Cymbeline and Imogen advance

Cymbeline: “Come, stand by our side; make thy demand aloud. (to Iachimo) Sir, step you forth. Give answer to this boy, or by our greatness, bitter torture shall winnow the truth from falsehood.”

Imogen: “My boon is that this gentleman may render of whom he had this ring.”

Posthumus: (aside) “What’s that to him?”

Cymbeline: “That diamond upon your finger, say how came it yours.”

Iachimo: “Thou will torture me to leave unspoken which to be spoken would torture thee.”

Cymbeline: “How? Me?”

Iachimo: “I am glad to be restrained to utter that which torments me to conceal. By villainy I got this ring; twas Posthumus’ jewel, whom thou did banish, and, which more may grieve thee, as it does me, a nobler sir never lived between sky and ground. Will thou here more, my lord?”

Cymbeline: “All that belongs to this.”

Iachimo: “That paragon, thy daughter, for whom my false spirits quail to remember – give me leave, I faint.”

Cymbeline: “My daughter? What of her? Renew thy strength. Strive, man, and speak.”

Iachimo: “Upon a time – unhappy was the clock that struck the hour – it was in Rome – the good Posthumus; he was too good to be where ill men are, and was the best off all amongst the rarest of good ones, sitting sadly and hearing us praise our loves of Italy; this Posthumus, most like a noble lord, and not dispraising who we praised began to paint his mistress’s picture. His description proved us unspeaking sots.”

Cymbeline: “To the purpose.”

Iachimo: “Your daughter’s chastity – there it begins. He spoke of her as Diana, whereat I, wretch, made scruple of his praise, and wagered with him pieces of gold against this which then he wore upon his honoured finger, to attain the place of her bed and win this ring by hers and mine adultery. He, true knight, no lesser of her honour confident than I did truly find her, stakes this ring. Away to Briton posted I in this design, where I was taught of your chaste daughter the wide difference between amorous and villainous. Being thus quenched of hope, my Italian brain, for my vantage, operated most vilely. My practice so prevailed that I returned with similar proof enough to make the noble Posthumus mad, by wounding his belief in her renown with tokens thus and thus, with notes of chamber hangings, pictures, this her bracelet – o cunning, how I got it – nay, some marks of secret on her person, that he could not but think her bond of chastity quite cracked, whereupon I think I see him now.”

Posthumus: (coming forward) “Ay, so thou does, Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, anything that’s due to all the villains past, in being or to come. O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, some upright justice. Thou king, send out for torturers ingenious. I am Posthumus, who killed thy daughter; villain-like, I lie – that caused a lesser villain than myself, a sacrilegious thief, to do it. The temple of virtue was she. Every villain be called Posthumus. O Imogen! My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen, Imogen, Imogen!”

Imogen: “Peace, my lord. Hear, hear!”

Posthumus: “Shall you have a play at this? Thou scornful page. There lie thy part.” (He strikes her. She falls)

Pisanio: “O gentlemen, help! Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus! You never killed Imogen until now. Help, help! Mine honoured lady!”

Cymbeline: “Does the world go round?”

Pisnio: “Wake, my mistrss!”

Cymbeline: “If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me to death with mortal joy.”

Pisanio: “How fares my mistress?”

Imogen: “O, get thee from my sight; thou gave me poison. Dangerous fellow, hence! breathe not where princes are.”

Cymbeline: “The tune of Imogen!”

Pisanio: “Lady, the gods throw stones of sulphur on me if that box I gave you was not thought by me a precious thing! I had it from the Queen.”

Cymbeline: “New matter still?”

Imogen: “It poisoned me.”

Cornelius: “O gods! I left out one thing which the Queen confessed, which must prove thee honest.”

Cymbeline: “What’s this, Cornelius?”

Cornelius: “The Queen, sir, very often importuned me to temper poisons for her; still pretending the satisfaction of her knowledge only in killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs, I, dreading that her purpose was of more danger, did compound for her a certain stuff, which, being taken, would cease the present power of life, but in short time all offices of nature should again do their due functions. Have you taken from it?”

Imogen: “Most like I did, for I was dead.”

Belarious: “My boys, there was our error.”

Guiderius: “This is surely Fidele.”

Imogen: “Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? (embracing him)

Posthumus: “Hang there like a fruit, my soul, till the tree die!”

Cymbeline: “How now, my flesh? My child? Will thou not speak to me?”

Imogen: (knelling) “Your blessing, sir.”

Belarius: (to Guiderius and Arviragus) “Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not; you had a motive for it.”

Cymbeline: “My tears that fall prove holy water on thee! Imogen, thy mother’s dead.”

Imogen: “I am sorry for it, my lord.”

Cymbeline: “O, she was naught; but her son is gone, we know not how or where.”

Pisanio: “Now fear is from me, I’ll speak truth. Lord Cloten, upon my lady’s missing, came to me with his sword drawn, foamed at the mouth, and swore, if I discovered not which way she was gone, it was my instant death. By accident I had a feigned letter of my master’s then in my pocket, which directed him to seek her in the mountains near Milford Haven; where in a frenzy, in my master’s garments, which he enforced from me, away he posts with unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate my lady’s honour. What became of him I further know not.”

Guiderius: “Let me end the story: I slew him there. I have spoken it, and I did it.”

Cymbeline: “He was a prince.”

Guiderius: “A most uncivil one. The wrongs he did me were nothing prince-like. I cut off his head, and am right glad that he is not standing here to tell this tale of mine.”

Cymbeline: “I am sorry for thee. By thine own tongue thou are condemned and are dead.”

Imogen: “That headless man I thought had been my lord.”

Cymbeline: “Bind the offender, and take him from our presence.”

Belarius: “Stay, sir King. This man is better than the man he slew, as well descended as thyself, and has more of thee merited than a band of Cloten’s had ever scar for. (to the guards) Let his arms alone; they were not born for bondage.”

Cymbeline: “Why, old soldier, will thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for by tasting of our wrath? How of descent as good as we? Thou shall die for it.”

Belarius: “We will die all three; my sons, I must for thine own part unfold a dangerous speech, though happily well for you. Thou had, great King, a subject who was called Belarius.”

Cymbeline: “What of him? He is a banished traitor.”

Belarius: “He it is who has assumed this age; indeed a banished man; I know not how a traitor.”

Cymbeline: “Take him hence, the whole world shall not save him.”

Belarius: “No too hot. First pay me for the nursing of thy sons.”

Cymbeline: “The nursing of my sons?”

Belarius: “I am too blunt and saucy: here is my knee. Mighty sir, these two young gentlemen, who call me father, and think they are my sons, are none of mine; they are the issue of thy loins, my liege, and blood of your begetting.”

Cymbeline: “How? My issue?”

Belarius: “So sure as you your father’s. I, old Morgan, am that Belarius whom you sometime banished. Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment itself, and all my treason; that I suffered was all the harm I did. These gentle princes – for such and so they are – these twenty years have I trained; those arts they have as I could put into them. My breeding was, sir, as our Highness knows. Their nurse, whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children upon my banishment; I moved her to it, having received the punishment before for that which I did then. Beaten for loyalty excited me to treason. Their dear loss, the more of you twas felt, the more it shaped unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, here are your sons again, and I must lose two of the sweetest companions in the world. The benediction of these covering heavens fall on their heads like dew, for they are worthy to inlay heaven with stars.”

Cymbeline: “Thou weeps and speaks. The service that you three have done is more unlike than this thou tells. I lost my children. If this be they, I know not how to wish a pair of worthier sons.”

Belarius: “Be pleased awhile. This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, is true Prince Guiderius; This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, your younger princely son.”

Cymbeline: “Guiderius had upon his neck a mole; it was a mark of wonder.”

Belarius: “This is he, who has upon him still that natural stamp, to be his evidence now.”

Cymbeline: “O, what am I? Another to the birth of three? Never mother rejoiced deliverance more. Blessed pray you be. O Imogen, thou has lost by this a kingdom.”

Imogen: “No,my lord; I have gotten two worlds by it. O, my gentle brothers, have we just met? You called me brother when I was but your sister: I you brothers, when we were so indeed.”

Cymbeline: “Did you ever meet?”

Aviragus: “Ay, my good lord.”

Guiderius: “And at first meeting loved, and continued so until we thought he died.”

Cornelius: “By the Queen’s dram she swallowed.”

Cymbeline: “O rare instinct! When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgment has to it circumstantial branches, which distinction should be rich in. Where? How lived you? When came you to serve our Roman captive? How part with your brothers? How first met them? Why fled you from the court? And whither? These, with I know not how much more, should be demanded, and all the other by-dependances, from chance to chance. But nor this time nor place will serve our long interrogatories. See, Posthumus anchors upon Imogen; and she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye on him, her brothers, me, hitting each object with a joy. (to Belarius) You are my brother, so we’ll hold thee forever.”

Imogen: “You are my father, too.”

Cymbeline: “All overjoyed, save these in bonds. Let them be joyful too, for they shall taste our comfort.”

Imogen: “My good master, I will yet do you service.”

Lucius: “Happy be you!”

Cymbeline: “The forlorn soldier, who so nobly fought, he would have well become this place and graced the thanking of a king.”

Posthumus: “I am, sir, the soldier who did accompany these three in poor beseeming; twas a figment for the purpose I then followed. That I was he, speak, Iachimo. I had you down and might have made you finish.”

Iachimo: (kneeling) “I am down again; but now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, as then your force did. Take that life, beseech you, which I so often owe; but your ring first, and here the bracelet of the truest princess who ever swore her faith.”

Posthumus: “Kneel not to me. The power that I have on you is to spare you; the malice toward you to forgive you. Live, and deal with others better.”

Cymbeline: “Pardon is the word to all. Well, my peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius, , although the victor, we submit to Caesar and the Roman Empire, promising to pay our wonted tribute, from the which we were dissuaded by our wicked queen, whom heaven in justice, both on her and hers, have laid most heavy hand.’

Soothsayer: “The fingers of the powers above do tune the harmony of this peace. The imperial Caesar, should again unite his favour with the radiant Cymbeline, which shines here in the west.”

Cymbeline: “Laud we the gods. And let our crooked smoke climb to their nostrils from our blessed altars. Publish we this peace to all our subjects. Set we forward; let a Roman and a British ensign wave friendly together. And in the temple of great Jupiter our peace we’ll ratify; seal it with feasts. Set on there! Never was a war did cease, ere bloody hands were washed, with such a peace.”

Summary and Analysis

This nearly 500 line scene is about as full and dense as any Shakespeare scene that comes to mind. He has his work cut out in here, that’s for sure. And whereas there are countless harsh critics of this play overall, few take issue with the accomplishment of bringing together all of the widely dispersed bits and pieces into a cohesive whole by the end. This last scene, indeed, is a tour de force and one of Shakespeare’s finest.

King Cymbeline gathers Belarius and his two sons and commends them for their extraordinary bravery in battle against the Romans. It was clearly the three of them who turned the tide of the war in favour of the British. He shows his gratitude by knighting all three men. He still has no idea that this was his former counsellor and his own to sons. Only Belarius knows this. Next we learn from Cornelius that the Queen is dead and that before she died she confessed to never having loved the King and had planned to slowly poison him to ensure that her son, Cloten, would inherit the kingdom. The Roman prisoners are presented to Cymbeline and Lucius asks that his page, Fedele, who we know to be Imogen, be saved. Cymbeline agrees to this and even employs him as his own page. Imogen, still disguised as Fedele, demands to know of Iachimo, how he got the ring from off of Posthumus’ finger. Of course we know that Posthumus gave it to him, as part of the wager that Iachimo could seduce her. Iachimo comes clean and confesses his entire role in deceiving both Posthumus and Imogen. At this point, knowing that Posthumus was duped by Iachimo into believing that she had been unfaithful, she takes off her boy costume and reveals herself to be Imogen. The couple are re-united and the entire story is revealed of how Imogen arrived at the cave with Belarius and his two boys and how she appeared to be dead from consuming the Queen’s potion, which was intended to kill her, except that Cornelius made it into a mere heavy sleeping pill, although Imogen took it thinking it was a healing concoction, and how Cloten met his fate with Belarus and sons. At first Cymbeline insists that Guiderius must die for having killed Cloten, who was a prince, but at this point Belarus informs Cymbeline that the two boys are his long lost sons. The king is overjoyed and forgives Belarus his banishment and embraces his princely sons. Iachimo offers his life to Posthumus, but Posthumus, in the spirit of all of this reconciliation, forgives him. In the end, Cymbeline releases all of his prisoners and even ensures Lucius that the British will resume paying tribute. This may seem odd, as he was just earlier willing to go to war over this, but apparently that was all the doings of the Queen, who will no longer influence his decisions. The entire ensemble merrily depart the stage to feast and sacrifice at the altar of Jupiter. Wheh! Shakespeare certainly demonstrates his skill as a dramatist in this last scene. Fidele turns out to be Imogen, who was only thought dead due to the Queen’s drug. Iachimo confesses his role in all of the confusion he wrought after betting to violate Imogen and then making Posthumus believe he had been successful. Once Imogen reveals herself Belarius and sons understand why they thought her to be dead. Belarius informs the King that these boys are really his son and Imogen’s brother. Once everything is reconciled we might still wonder why Imogen embraces Posthumus, although he does regain a certain degree of admiration in this final scene. Shakespeare’s best women so often marry beneath their station, aside from several wicked queens, such as we had here. This final scenes dazzles us with its layers of revelations and resolutions. Regardless of how we might assess the play as a whole, it always seems a worthy venture once we close out this final impressive scene.

Final Thoughts

No one has suggested that this is one of Shakespeare’s best plays, although Lord Tennyson did choose to have it buried beside him. The heaviness of the plot and the inconsistent language indicates to some critics that Shakespeare had help from a far less talented collaborator. And yet, the characters develop along side one another admirably. The king, his wicked queen, her oaf of a son, Dr Cornelius, Posthumus and Imogen themselves and his loyal servant Pisanio, the treacherous Italian, Iachimo, the noble Roman, Lucius, and the long banished Lord Belarus and his mysteriously missing sons of the King. Imogen is absolutely delightful throughout the play and Posthumus hardly seems deserving of her, as mentioned. Typical, once again of the late Romantic Comedies, there is less depth of character displayed here and more adventure and mystery. You may have to work a bit to follow the plot but act V, scene V makes the journey worth the effort. Teetering on the edge of tragedy, Cymbeline never quite crosses that line. Only the villains die (the Queen and her son, Cloten), Posthumus and Imogen embrace lovingly, the King has his sons returned to him, and even the captured Romans are spared. As King Cymbeline states, ‘pardon’s the word to all’, and this extends even to Shakespeare.

In 1608 members of Shakespeare’s theatre company purchased the indoor Blackfriars theatre, which could easily put on spectacular theatricalities, the likes of which we bear witness to in these later Romances. Cymbeline was the first play written by the bard for the Blackfriars. The source of this play for Shakespeare was the ever familiar Chronicles by Holinshed. The earliest production that we hear of is in September of 1611. We know that it was presented before King Charles I on 1 January, 1634. After that are various adaptations, with such titles as ‘The Injured Princess’ and ‘The Fatal Wager’. The next actual Cymbeline production is not until 1746 in Covent Gardens. The play became quite popular in the 19th century, mostly on account of the character of Imogen. In the 20th century large theatre companies, such as we find in Stratford upon Avon, The Winter Garden, The Old Vic and Covent Gardens, made Cymbeline a regular part of their repertoire. It requires elaborate staging and therefore beyond these large production companies, Cymbeline is not often presented. As usual, Youtube has a wealth of theatrical and film productions, endless clips and much analysis.