Her speech drips with performed warmth — 'your gaoler shall deliver you the keys' sounds generous but is a threat dressed as comfort. Watch for this pattern throughout: every kindness she offers contains an edge. She says exactly what will sound best while meaning something worse.
No, be assur’d you shall not find me, daughter,
After the slander of most stepmothers,
Evil-ey’d unto you. You’re my prisoner, but
Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys
That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,
So soon as I can win th’ offended King,
I will be known your advocate. Marry, yet
The fire of rage is in him, and ’twere good
You lean’d unto his sentence with what patience
Your wisdom may inform you.
No, be assured that I won't be like a wicked stepmother to you, not looking upon you with evil eyes. You are confined, but your jailer will give you the keys to your own restraint. As for Posthumus, as soon as I can soothe the angry King, I will openly support you. However, he is still furious, and it would be best if you accepted his judgment with whatever patience you can manage.
Don't worry, I won't be like a cruel stepmother who glares at you with evil eyes. You're confined, but the person guarding you will give you the keys to your own freedom. As for Posthumus, once I can calm down the King, I'll support him openly. But he's still furious right now, and you should accept his judgment as calmly as you can.
i'm not a wicked stepmother you'll be free i'll help posthumus when king calms down but be patient now
He speaks in long, formal declarations of devotion — 'I will remain / The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth' — with a rhetorical grandeur that will later be weaponized against him. Watch for how his verbal nobility makes him vulnerable to anyone who can manipulate his self-image.
Please your Highness,
I will from hence today.
If it please you, Highness, I will leave today.
With your permission, Highness, I will leave today.
i'll leave today
You know the peril.
I’ll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying
The pangs of barr’d affections, though the King
Hath charg’d you should not speak together.
You understand the danger. I'll take a walk through the garden, feeling sympathy for the pain of your separated hearts, even though the King has forbidden you to speak together.
You know the King is dangerous. I'll take a walk in the garden, pitying how hard it is to be kept apart, even though he's ordered you not to talk to each other.
you know the danger i'll walk away the king forbids it but i pity you
She sees through the Queen immediately — 'O dissembling courtesy!' — and she speaks with an almost reckless directness. She tells her father to his face that she chose better than he arranged. Watch for this quality of clear-eyed, undiplomatic honesty throughout the play.
O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant
Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband,
I something fear my father’s wrath, but nothing
(Always reserv’d my holy duty) 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.
What false politeness! How skillfully this tyrant can charm while she harms! My dearest husband, I fear my father's wrath somewhat, but not—always keeping my duty—his rage toward me. You must leave, and I will stay here enduring constant angry looks, unable to live except for the one precious thing in the world I might see again—you.
Such fake kindness! How well this tyrant can sweet-talk while she's hurting us! My dearest, I fear my father's anger, but not—always respecting my duty—what he might do to me. You have to go, and I'll stay here facing angry stares every hour, unable to live except knowing I might see you again.
fake kindness tyrant sweet-talks i'll face angry stares but you're my reason to keep living
My queen! my mistress!
O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause
To be suspected of more tenderness
Than doth become a man. I will remain
The loyal’st husband that did e’er plight troth;
My residence in Rome at one Philario’s,
Who to my father was a friend, to me
Known but by letter; thither write, my queen,
And with mine eyes I’ll drink the words you send,
Though ink be made of gall.
My queen, my mistress, don't cry anymore or people will think I'm too soft. I will be the most loyal husband ever. I'll stay in Rome with Philario, who was my father's friend and whom I know only through letters. Write to me there, my queen, and I'll eagerly absorb every word you send, even if they're written in bitterness.
My queen, my mistress, stop crying or people will think I'm too tender. I'll be the most loyal husband alive. I'll be in Rome at Philario's house—he was my father's friend and I only know him by letter. Write to me there, and I'll devour every word you send, even if it's written in sorrow.
don't cry i'm loyal i'll be in rome write to me i'll read every word
Be brief, I pray you.
If the King come, I shall incur I know not
How much of his displeasure. [_Aside._] Yet I’ll move him
To walk this way. I never do him wrong
But he does buy my injuries, to be friends;
Pays dear for my offences.
Hurry, please. If the King comes, I'll face his anger. Every time I wrong him, he forgives me and buys my forgiveness to restore our friendship; he pays dearly for my wrongs.
Hurry up, please. If the King catches us, I'll face his anger. He always forgives me when I do wrong; he buys my forgiveness to stay friends with me.
hurry king might come i'll manage him he always forgives me
Should we be taking leave
As long a term as yet we have to live,
The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!
If we spent as much time saying goodbye as we have left to live, our reluctance to leave would only grow. Goodbye!
If we said goodbye for as long as we have left to live, we'd never be able to leave. Goodbye!
if we keep saying goodbye we'll never leave adieu
Nay, stay a little.
Were you but riding forth to air yourself,
Such parting were too petty. Look here, love:
This diamond was my mother’s; take it, heart;
But keep it till you woo another wife,
When Imogen is dead.
Wait a moment. If you were just going for a ride, such a parting would be nothing. Look here, my love: this diamond was my mother's—take it. But keep it until you court another wife, after I am dead.
Wait a moment. If you were just going out for a ride, I wouldn't make such a fuss. Look, my love—this was my mother's diamond—take it. But only give it to another wife after I'm gone.
wait my mother's diamond take it only for another wife if i die
How, how? Another?
You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
And sear up my embracements from a next
With bonds of death! Remain, remain thou here
What? Another woman? Oh gods, grant me only what I have now, and seal my embraces to no other with the bonds of death! Stay, stay here!
Another woman? Oh gods, let me have only you, and seal myself to no other even unto death! Stay, stay here with me!
another wife? no only you forever stay with me
Two pieces of jewelry change hands in this scene, and both will be used as weapons against the lovers. Imogen gives Posthumus her mother's diamond ring as a pledge of faithfulness. Posthumus places a bracelet on Imogen's arm as a 'manacle of love.' Shakespeare is extraordinarily careful about objects in this play — nearly every significant prop (the ring, the bracelet, the drug, a forged letter, Posthumus's clothes) does double or triple duty in the plot. The bracelet and ring start as love-tokens and end as forged evidence. This is one of the play's cruelest structural ironies: the very gestures by which the lovers tried to bind themselves together become the tools of their separation.
While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest,
As I my poor self did exchange for you,
To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles
I still win of you. For my sake wear this;
It is a manacle of love; I’ll place it
Upon this fairest prisoner.
As long as you can feel it on your hand. And, my sweetest, most beautiful, Just as I traded my worthless self for you— Which is an infinite loss for you—so in these small gifts I still come out ahead in our exchanges. For my sake wear this; It is a bond of love; I'll fasten it Upon my most beautiful prisoner.
While you can feel it on your wrist. And sweetest, most beautiful—just like I gave up my worthless self for you, which is a terrible deal for you, I still somehow come out ahead with these little gifts. Please wear this for me. It's a love bracelet, and I'm putting it on my most beautiful captive.
wear this while u can feel it i traded my bad self for u big loss for u i still win somehow love bracelet my beautiful prisoner
O the gods!
When shall we see again?
Oh gods, when will we see each other again?
Oh gods, when will I see you again?
when will i see you?
Alack, the King!
Oh no, the King is coming!
Oh no, the King!
the king
He speaks in rage and gives Posthumus no space to reply — 'Thou basest thing, avoid; hence from my sight.' His authority requires silencing the very man his daughter loves. Watch how his grief and his power are constantly in conflict.
Thou basest thing, avoid; hence from my sight
If after this command thou fraught the court
With thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away!
Thou’rt poison to my blood.
You base creature, get out of my sight! If you return to court after this command, you will die. Go! You are poison to my blood.
Get out, you lowest wretch! If you come back to court after this, you'll die. Go! You're poison to my family!
get out don't come back or you die you're poison
The gods protect you,
And bless the good remainders of the court!
I am gone.
May the gods protect you and bless the good people of the court. I am leaving.
May the gods protect you and bless the good people here. I'm leaving.
goodbye may the gods protect you
There cannot be a pinch in death
More sharp than this is.
No pain of death could be sharper than what I feel right now.
No death could hurt more than this does.
this pain is worse than death
O disloyal thing,
That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap’st
A year’s age on me!
Oh disloyal daughter, you who should have brought me joy and youth, instead you've aged me a year!
Oh disloyal girl, you were supposed to make me happy, instead you've made me age years!
disloyal you aged me years in one day
I beseech you, sir,
Harm not yourself with your vexation.
I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare
Subdues all pangs, all fears.
Please, sir, don't hurt yourself with anger. I cannot feel your wrath; something more precious calms all my pain and fear.
Please, sir, don't anger yourself. I can't feel your rage; something more precious overcomes all my pain and fear.
don't hurt yourself i'm numb he's my comfort
Past grace? obedience?
Beyond forgiveness? Without obedience?
Has she lost all mercy? Is she completely disobedient?
lost her forgiveness no obedience
When the Queen offers to give Imogen and Posthumus a moment alone, Imogen's first words after she leaves are 'O dissembling courtesy!' She sees right through it. She is not fooled by the Queen's performance of kindness for a single second. And yet she also tells her father, with perfect calm, that his wrath doesn't reach her — not because she doesn't feel it, but because she feels Posthumus more. Shakespeare gives Imogen a quality rare in romantic heroines: she loves completely without being stupid about it. She sees the Queen clearly, judges Cloten correctly (eagle vs. kite), and assesses her father's behavior honestly. What she cannot see is that her husband will prove more credulous than she is. That's the knife the play turns on her.
Past hope, and in despair; that way past grace.
Yes, past hope and in despair; and despair puts me beyond grace.
Past hope and in despair—and despair means no grace for me.
no hope in despair beyond grace
That mightst have had the sole son of my queen!
You could have had the only son of my queen!
You could have married the Queen's son!
you could have had the queen's son
O blessed that I might not! I chose an eagle,
And did avoid a puttock.
Oh thank goodness I did not! I chose an eagle and avoided a vulture.
Thank goodness I didn't! I chose an eagle and avoided a vulture.
no thank you i chose an eagle not a vulture
Thou took’st a beggar, wouldst have made my throne
A seat for baseness.
You took a pauper and would have made my royal throne a seat of shame and baseness.
You took a poor man who would have shamed my royal throne.
you took a beggar would shame the throne
No; I rather added
A lustre to it.
No; instead I added luster to it.
No; I made it brighter instead.
no i added luster
O thou vile one!
Oh you vile creature!
Oh you vile thing!
vile
Sir,
It is your fault that I have lov’d Posthumus.
You bred him as my playfellow, and he is
A man worth any woman; overbuys me
Almost the sum he pays.
Sir, it's your fault I love Posthumus. You raised him as my childhood companion, and he is a man worth any woman. He values me more than almost any price he could pay.
Sir, it's your fault I love Posthumus. You raised him as my childhood friend, and he's a worthy man. He values me more than he owes me.
it's your fault you raised him he's worth it he values me
What, art thou mad?
What, are you crazy?
Are you mad?
are you crazy?
Almost, sir. Heaven restore me! Would I were
A neat-herd’s daughter, and my Leonatus
Our neighbour shepherd’s son!
Almost, yes. May heaven restore me! I wish I were a cowherd's daughter and Leonatus were a neighbor shepherd's son!
Almost. May heaven save me! I wish I were just a cowherd's daughter and he were a shepherd's son!
almost mad wish we were just common folk together
Thou foolish thing!
You foolish creature!
You foolish thing!
foolish
[_To the Queen._] They were again together. You have done
Not after our command. Away with her,
And pen her up.
They were together again. You didn't obey my command. Take her away and lock her up.
They were together again. You didn't do what I told you to do. Get her out of here and keep her locked away.
they were together again u didn't follow orders get her outta here and lock her up
Beseech your patience. Peace,
Dear lady daughter, peace!—Sweet sovereign,
Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself some comfort
Out of your best advice.
Please be patient. Peace, dear daughter, peace! Sweet King, leave us alone and comfort yourself with your own wisdom.
Please be patient. Dear daughter, peace! Sweet sovereign, leave us alone and comfort yourself with what you know is right.
be patient peace daughter leave us alone find comfort
'Thou basest thing, avoid; hence from my sight / If after this command thou fraught the court / With thy unworthiness, thou diest.' Cymbeline's banishment of Posthumus is notable for what it isn't: it's not a legal proceeding, not a reasoned judgment, not even a real conversation. Posthumus gets three sentences from the king who raised him, and no right of reply. The contrast with Posthumus's dignified 'The gods protect you' is enormous. Cymbeline performs royal power here as pure fury — which is the opposite of the considered, loving authority that his character is supposed to embody. The audience is meant to wince. His words will cost him almost everything he loves.
Nay, let her languish
A drop of blood a day and, being aged,
Die of this folly.
No, let her suffer, losing one drop of blood a day, and when she's old, let her die from this foolishness.
Let her suffer, dying one drop of blood a day, and eventually die old from this foolishness.
let her suffer die slowly from this folly
Fie! you must give way.
Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news?
Enough! You must leave. Here is a servant. Well, sir, what is your news?
Enough! You must go. Here's a servant. Well, sir, what news?
go here's pisanio what news?
Quiet, loyal, and practical — he is asked no opinions in this scene and offers none. His one remarkable act is a small one: he stayed watching the ship until Posthumus disappeared from sight. Watch for this quality of absolute, unremarked fidelity throughout the play.
My lord your son drew on my master.
Your son drew his sword against my master.
Your son attacked my master.
your son drawn sword on my master
Ha!
No harm, I trust, is done?
No harm was done, I hope?
No one was hurt, I hope?
no one hurt?
There might have been,
But that my master rather play’d than fought,
And had no help of anger; they were parted
By gentlemen at hand.
There might have been, but my master treated it more as play than fight and wasn't driven by anger. They were separated by gentlemen who were nearby.
There could have been, but my master was playful rather than serious, not angry at all. They were separated by nearby gentlemen.
could have been bad but he was calm gentlemen stopped them
I am very glad on’t.
I am very glad of it.
I'm very glad to hear it.
glad
Your son’s my father’s friend; he takes his part
To draw upon an exile! O brave sir!
I would they were in Afric both together;
Myself by with a needle, that I might prick
The goer-back. Why came you from your master?
Your son is my father's friend, yet he draws his sword against an exile! Oh how noble of him! I wish they were both in Africa together, with me there too with a needle to stab anyone who tried to return.
Your son is my father's friend, yet he attacks an exile! How courageous! I wish they were both in Africa with me and a needle so I could stop anyone from coming back.
your son attacks my husband i wish them in africa why did you leave him?
On his command. He would not suffer me
To bring him to the haven; left these notes
Of what commands I should be subject to,
When’t pleas’d you to employ me.
On his orders. He wouldn't allow me to go with him to the harbor. He left these instructions about what commands I should follow whenever you need me.
On his orders. He wouldn't let me go with him to the ship. He left these notes about what I should do whenever you need me.
his orders wouldn't let me leave left instructions for your use
This hath been
Your faithful servant. I dare lay mine honour
He will remain so.
He has been your faithful servant. I would wager my honor that he will remain so.
He has been loyal to you. I'm certain he'll stay that way.
loyal servant will stay loyal
I humbly thank your Highness.
I humbly thank you, Highness.
Thank you, Highness.
thank you
Pray walk awhile.
Please take a walk for a while.
Please take a walk.
walk awhile
About some half-hour hence,
Pray you speak with me.
You shall at least go see my lord aboard.
For this time leave me.
In about half an hour, please come speak with me. You can at least see my lord board the ship. For now, please leave me.
Come back in half an hour and talk to me. You can go see my husband board the ship. But leave me alone for now.
half hour then talk see him board ship leave me now
The Reckoning
This is the scene of an already-married couple being torn apart — which is different from a farewell between lovers, and Shakespeare knows it. Posthumus and Imogen have no future to plan toward, only a present being stolen from them. The ring and bracelet exchange is the most loaded prop-transfer in the play: both objects will be weaponized by the plot against both of them. Cymbeline's rage is real but also wrong, and Imogen knows it, which is why she refuses to apologize.
If this happened today…
A couple who secretly got married last month — she's the CEO's daughter, he's a brilliant employee the CEO himself mentored — are grabbing two minutes in a corridor before security escorts him out. Her stepmother offered to 'give them a moment,' which sounds kind but is obviously a move. The CEO shows up, screams at his daughter in front of the whole office, and has her husband walked to the elevator. The daughter hands him her mother's ring before they separate. The stepmother watches all of this with the expression of someone watching chess pieces move exactly where she planned.