Act 1, Scene 4 — Cymbeline — Study Shakespeare

The argument Imogen questions Pisanio about every detail of Posthumus's departure, imagining what she would have done had she been there to watch; she gives Pisanio instructions and is summoned away by the Queen.

Enter Imogen and Pisanio.

IMOGEN ≋ verse obsessive yearning — wishing she could watch him forever

I would thou grew’st unto the shores o’ th’ haven,

And questioned’st every sail; if he should write,

And I not have it, ’twere a paper lost,

As offer’d mercy is. What was the last

That he spake to thee?

I wish you could grow into the shores of the harbor and question every ship. If he writes to me and I don't receive it, it would be like losing mercy that was offered. What was the last thing he said to you?

I wish you were at the dock watching every ship. If a letter from him gets lost, I'll die. What was the last thing he said?

i wish you were there watching him every moment what did he say at the end

PISANIO faithful repetition — the last words, echoing with emotion

It was: his queen, his queen!

His last words were: 'His queen, his queen!'

He said: 'My queen, my queen!'

'his queen' 'his queen' that's all

IMOGEN desperate clarification — did he perform the goodbye gesture?

Then wav’d his handkerchief?

Then he waved his handkerchief?

Did he wave at you with it?

he waved the handkerchief

PISANIO confirming the gesture — adding kisses to the wave

And kiss’d it, madam.

And kissed it, madam.

Yeah, and kissed it.

and kissed it

IMOGEN ≋ verse bitter envy — jealousy of the linen that touched his lips

Senseless linen, happier therein than I!

And that was all?

Lucky linen, with no feelings but happier than I! And that was all he did?

That cloth got to touch his lips and I didn't. That's all?

lucky fabric happier than me that's it

PISANIO ≋ verse tender detail — Posthumus couldn't stop waving, expressing his conflicted emotions

No, madam; for so long

As he could make me with his eye, or ear

Distinguish him from others, he did keep

The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief,

Still waving, as the fits and stirs of’s mind

Could best express how slow his soul sail’d on,

How swift his ship.

No, madam. As long as he could see me or hear me enough to recognize me among everyone else, he stayed on deck, waving a glove or hat or handkerchief—whatever he had—in whatever way his feelings demanded, expressing how slowly his soul was sailing away even as his ship moved so fast.

No. As long as he could see me, he stayed on deck, waving things—gloves, hats, handkerchiefs—showing how much he loved you while the ship pulled away so fast.

while he could see he stayed on deck waving everything showing his soul was slow leaving while the ship was fast

IMOGEN ≋ verse reckless fantasy — she wishes she'd watched him until he disappeared completely

Thou shouldst have made him

As little as a crow, or less, ere left

To after-eye him.

You should have stayed and watched him until he became smaller than a crow, or smaller still, before leaving.

You should have watched him get tinier and tinier before you came back.

you should watch until he's smaller than a crow then leave

PISANIO calm confirmation — Pisanio already did this

Madam, so I did.

I did, madam.

I did.

i did

IMOGEN ≋ verse impossible longing — she spirals into desperate fantasy about perfect goodbye

I would have broke mine eyestrings, crack’d them but

To look upon him, till the diminution

Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle;

Nay, followed him till he had melted from

The smallness of a gnat to air, and then

Have turn’d mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio,

When shall we hear from him?

I would have strained my eyes to the point of breaking, just to watch him until the distance had shrunk him to a point as sharp as my needle. I would have followed him with my gaze until he melted from the size of a gnat to invisible air, and then I would have turned away and wept. But good Pisanio, when will we hear from him?

I would've watched until my eyes broke, followed him as he got smaller and smaller, even when he was tinier than a fly, and then I would've cried. But when will he write?

i'd watch until he disappeared into air smaller than a gnat then cry when will he write

Why it matters This speech — the eye-straining, the needle-point, the gnat dissolving into air — is one of Shakespeare's most precise renderings of physical longing, the desperation to retain visual contact past all possibility.

PISANIO ≋ verse reassuring promise — Pisanio guarantees communication

Be assur’d, madam,

With his next vantage.

Be sure, madam, he'll write at his next opportunity.

Don't worry, he'll write as soon as he can.

he'll write soon i promise

IMOGEN ≋ verse regretful reminiscence — she didn't get to say everything she wanted

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 I could make him swear

The shes of Italy should not betray

Mine interest and his honour; or have charg’d him,

At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,

T’ encounter me with orisons, for then

I am in heaven for him; or ere I could

Give him that parting kiss which I had set

Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father,

And like the tyrannous breathing of the north

Shakes all our buds from growing.

I didn't properly say goodbye to him, but I had so many beautiful things to say. I wish I could have told him how I'd think of him at certain hours—with exactly these thoughts and those; or I could have made him swear that the women of Italy wouldn't betray my interests and his honor; or I could have made him promise that at six in the morning, at noon, at midnight, and at every hour in between, he would think of me.

I didn't get to say goodbye properly. I wanted to tell him so much—like how I'd think of him at certain times. Or make him promise Italian women wouldn't seduce him. Or make him swear to think of me at specific times every day.

i didn't say everything i wanted to say make him promise to think of me at dawn at noon at night

"like the tyrannous breathing of the north / Shakes all our buds from growing" A natural image for political power: the king as cold wind that destroys spring. Shakespeare gives even offhand comparisons this precision — the north wind 'shakes buds from growing' rather than just blowing things away.

Enter a Lady.

LADY ≋ verse formal message — the Queen requests Imogen's company

The Queen, madam,

Desires your Highness’ company.

The Queen desires your presence, madam.

The Queen wants to see you.

the queen wants you

IMOGEN ≋ verse distracted obedience — she prioritizes her instructions to Pisanio

Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch’d.

I will attend the Queen.

Make sure those things I told you to do get done. I'll go attend the Queen.

Get done what I asked. I'll go see her.

do what i said i'll go see her

PISANIO loyal assurance — Pisanio promises obedience

Madam, I shall.

I will, madam.

Will do.

yes madam

[_Exeunt._]

The Reckoning

A small scene that does large emotional work. Imogen is desperate for more of Posthumus than she was allowed to have — she interrogates every gesture, every wave, mentally replaying the departure she wasn't permitted to witness. The speech about watching him shrink to the size of a needle-point is one of the most physically precise accounts of longing in Shakespeare. She is already in the process of grieving a person who isn't dead.

If this happened today…

She's looking at the last text message thread, reading the timing of every sent and delivered receipt, replaying the video of someone leaving. 'He waved when he got to the gate, right? And again at security? Did he look back?' She already knows the flight time. She's calculating when he would have landed. She's not sad in the way that breaks down — she's sad in the way that stays functional while falling apart on the inside.

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