Thus far, and so farewell.
This far, and so goodbye.
This is as far as we go. Goodbye.
this is it. goodbye
Thanks, royal sir.
My emperor hath wrote; I must from hence,
And am right sorry that I must report ye
My master’s enemy.
Thank you, your Majesty. My emperor has written; I must leave, and I'm very sorry that I must tell you you are my master's enemy.
Thank you, sir. My emperor has sent orders—I have to leave. And I'm genuinely sorry that I have to tell you that you're now an enemy to Rome.
thanks sir my emperor called me back im sorry i have to tell you youre now rome's enemy
Our subjects, sir,
Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself
To show less sovereignty than they, must needs
Appear unkinglike.
Our subjects, sir, will not accept his rule; and for myself, to show less strength than they do, must seem unlike a king.
My people won't stand for Roman rule, sir. And for me to appear weaker than my subjects would make me look like a bad king.
my people wont accept rome if i back down id look weak
So, sir. I desire of you
A conduct overland to Milford Haven.
Madam, all joy befall your Grace, and you!
So, sir. I ask of you escort by land to Milford Haven. Madam, all happiness to you and your Grace!
Understood, sir. I need your men to escort me overland to Milford Haven. And my lady, I wish all the best to you.
i need escort to milford haven lady all best wishes to you
My lords, you are appointed for that office;
The due of honour in no point omit.
So farewell, noble Lucius.
My lords, you're assigned to that task; do not neglect the honor that is due. So goodbye, noble Lucius.
Lords, you're responsible for that. Don't fail in giving him the respect he deserves. Goodbye, Lucius.
lords handle the escort treat him with respect goodbye lucius
Your hand, my lord.
Give me your hand, my lord.
Extend your hand to me, sir.
shake my hand
Receive it friendly; but from this time forth
I wear it as your enemy.
Take it kindly; but from now on I wear it as your enemy's.
Take it in peace; but from this moment on, I'm wearing it as an enemy's hand.
take it but now im your enemy
Sir, the event
Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well.
Sir, the outcome is still to show who wins. Fare you well.
Sir, the outcome is still undecided. We'll see who wins. Goodbye.
well see who wins goodbye
Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords,
Till he have cross’d the Severn. Happiness!
Don't let the worthy Lucius leave, good my lords, until he's crossed the Severn. Farewell!
Don't let Lucius leave until he's safely across the river. Goodbye!
keep him till he crosses the river fare well
He goes hence frowning; but it honours us
That we have given him cause.
He's leaving angry; but it honors us that we've given him cause.
He's leaving furious, but at least that shows we stood up to Rome.
hes angry but we showed strength
’Tis all the better;
Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.
It's all the better; your strong Britons have their wish in this.
That's good—all the British warriors got what they wanted.
good the warriors are happy
Lucius hath wrote already to the Emperor
How it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely
Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness.
The pow’rs that he already hath in Gallia
Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves
His war for Britain.
Lucius has already written to the Emperor about what's happening here. It's right that our chariots and our horsemen are ready. The forces he already has in Gaul will soon be gathered, and from there he moves his war toward Britain.
Lucius has already told the Emperor about us. We need to be ready—our chariots and soldiers need to be prepared. He's gathering his troops in Gaul and he's bringing the fight to us.
lucius told the emperor we need to be ready romes gathering troops in gaul they're coming here
’Tis not sleepy business,
But must be look’d to speedily and strongly.
It's not something to ignore, but must be watched and handled quickly and forcefully.
This isn't something we can sleep through. We need to act fast and with everything we have.
we need to act fast this is serious
Our expectation that it would be thus
Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen,
Where is our daughter? She hath not appear’d
Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender’d
The duty of the day. She looks us like
A thing more made of malice than of duty;
We have noted it. Call her before us, for
We have been too slight in sufferance.
Our expectation that this would happen has prepared us. But, my gentle queen, where is our daughter? She hasn't appeared before the Roman, nor has she shown the respect of the day to us. She looks to us like someone made more of malice than of duty; we've noticed. Call her here, because we've been too patient with her behavior.
We expected something like this, so we're ready. But where's our daughter? She hasn't shown up to meet the Roman and she hasn't paid her respects to me. She seems bitter and disrespectful to me, and I've noticed. Get her in here—I've been too lenient with her.
we were ready for this where is imogen shes not being respectful get her here ive been too lenient
Royal sir,
Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir’d
Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord,
’Tis time must do. Beseech your Majesty,
Forbear sharp speeches to her; she’s a lady
So tender of rebukes that words are strokes,
And strokes death to her.
Your Majesty, since Posthumus was exiled, her life has been very withdrawn; the cure for that, my lord, only time can provide. Please, I ask your Majesty, don't speak harshly to her; she's so sensitive to criticism that words hurt her, and harsh words are like death to her.
Sir, ever since Posthumus was sent away, she's been isolated and depressed. Only time will heal her. Please, don't speak harshly to her—she's too fragile. Harsh words would destroy her.
shes been sad since posthumus left time will heal her please dont be harsh with her shes fragile
Where is she, sir? How
Can her contempt be answer’d?
Where is she, sir? How can her disrespect be answered?
Where is she? How can I ignore this disrespect?
where is she im not letting this slide
Please you, sir,
Her chambers are all lock’d, and there’s no answer
That will be given to th’ loud of noise we make.
If you please, sir, her rooms are all locked, and there's no response to all the noise we make.
Sir, her rooms are all locked and she won't respond to anything.
her rooms are locked she wont respond
My lord, when last I went to visit her,
She pray’d me to excuse her keeping close;
Whereto constrain’d by her infirmity
She should that duty leave unpaid to you
Which daily she was bound to proffer. This
She wish’d me to make known; but our great court
Made me to blame in memory.
My lord, when I last went to visit her, she asked me to excuse her staying inside; she said she was forced by her illness to miss her duty to you, which she was supposed to fulfill every day. She asked me to tell you, but our busy court made me forget to mention it.
My lord, the last time I visited her, she asked me to say she's been sick and staying in her room. She said that's why she hasn't been doing her duties to you. She wanted me to explain that, but with everything going on here, I forgot to tell you.
she asked me to say shes sick thats why shes been in her room she apologizes i forgot to tell you
Her doors lock’d?
Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I fear
Prove false!
Her doors locked? Not seen lately? I hope, heavens, what I fear proves false!
Locked up and not seen? God, I hope I'm worried for nothing!
locked up and gone please let me be wrong
This scene is notable for its rapid-fire convergence of disasters. Rome has declared war. An ambassador has departed with a threat. And in the same scene, Cymbeline discovers his daughter has vanished. The juxtaposition forces Cymbeline to be a king and a father simultaneously. He must respond to both crises. His rage at Posthumus — for luring his daughter into elopement — is immediate and total. What makes the scene tragic is that Cymbeline's interpretation of events, while understandable, is exactly wrong. He doesn't know Posthumus ordered murder. He thinks Posthumus seduced her. His rage at a son-in-law who stole his daughter masks a deeper tragedy: a son-in-law who tried to murder his daughter.
Son, I say, follow the King.
Now, son, go follow the King.
Come on, go after him.
go now
That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant,
I have not seen these two days.
That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, I haven't seen him these two days.
That servant of hers, Pisanio, I haven't seen him in two days.
havent seen pisanio in two days
Go, look after.
Go, look after.
go, look after.
go, look after....
Pisanio, thou that stand’st so for Posthumus!
He hath 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? Haply despair hath seiz’d her;
Or, wing’d with fervour of her love, she’s flown
To her desir’d Posthumus. Gone she is
To death or to dishonour, and my end
Can make good use of either. She being down,
I have the placing of the British crown.
Pisanio, you who stand so firmly for Posthumus! He has a drug of mine. I hope his absence comes from swallowing it; for he believes it is something very precious. But as for her, where has she gone? Perhaps despair has seized her; or, driven by the strength of her love, she's run to her desired Posthumus. She is gone either to death or to dishonor, and my end can make good use of either outcome. With her gone, I have the power to place whoever I wish on the British crown.
Pisanio, you're so loyal to Posthumus! He has a poison of mine. I hope he drank it and that's why he's gone; he thinks it's something valuable. But where did Imogen go? Maybe despair got to her; or maybe she ran off to find Posthumus because she loves him so much. Either way—death or shame—it works out for me. With her out of the way, I can put anyone I want on the British throne.
pisanio backs posthumus he has my poison maybe he drank it imogen's missing she ran to posthumus death or shame either way i control the crown now
How now, my son?
What's the situation with you, my son?
How are things with you, son?
what's up son
’Tis certain she is fled.
Go in and cheer the King. He rages; none
Dare come about him.
It's certain she's fled. Go in and cheer the King. He's furious; no one dares to go near him.
She's definitely run away. Go try to calm the King down. He's in a rage and nobody wants to get near him.
shes fled go calm the king down hes furious
All the better. May
This night forestall him of the coming day!
All the better. May this night destroy him before the coming day!
Good. I hope this destroys him before daylight comes.
good let this destroy him
I love and hate her; for she’s fair and royal,
And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite
Than lady, ladies, woman. From every one
The best she hath, and she, of all compounded,
Outsells them all. I love her therefore; but
Disdaining me and throwing favours on
The low Posthumus slanders so her judgement
That what’s else rare is chok’d; and in that point
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,
To be reveng’d upon her. For when fools
Shall—
I love and hate her; she's fair and royal, and she has all the refined qualities of ladies more completely than any lady, any other woman. Every quality the best people have, she possesses, and she alone, surpasses them all. I love her for that; but because she looks down on me and gives her favor to the low-born Posthumus, she destroys her own judgment so much that everything else good is ruined; and in that I will decide to hate her, no, truly, to take revenge on her. Because when foolish men shall—
I love and hate her. She's beautiful and has the status to match, and she has every perfect quality a woman could have, combined into one person—she's got it all. And I love her for it. But she despises me and throws her affection at this low-class Posthumus, which makes her judgment so terrible that everything good in her gets choked off. So I've decided to hate her instead, actually, to get revenge. Because when stupid men shall—
i love her and hate her she has everything beauty and status but she looks down on me shes with that loser posthumus so im gonna hate her and get revenge
Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah?
Come hither. Ah, you precious pandar! Villain,
Where is thy lady? In a word, or else
Thou art straightway with the fiends.
Who is here? What, are you packing to leave, you rascal? Come here. Ah, you precious pimp! Villain, where is your lady? Answer in one word, or else you go straight to the demons.
Who's there? Wait, are you running away, you scoundrel? Get over here. You disgusting pimp! Villain, where's your mistress? Answer me, or I'll send you straight to hell.
who's here are you running away you pimp where's your lady answer or go to hell
O good my lord!
Oh, my good lord!
Sir, please!
oh sir
Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter—
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.
Where is your lady? Or, by Jupiter— I won't ask again. Treacherous villain, I'll get this secret from your heart, or rip your heart open to find it. Is she with Posthumus? From whom even a tiny amount of worth cannot be taken.
Where is she? Or by God— I'm not asking again. You sneaky bastard, I'll beat the truth out of you or cut your heart open to get it. Is she with that loser Posthumus? That nobody has no value at all.
where is she im not asking twice where is she with posthumus that worthless loser
Alas, my lord,
How can she be with him? When was she miss’d?
He is in Rome.
Sir, how can she be with him? When was she last seen? He is in Rome.
Sir, how could she be with him? When was she even missed? He's in Rome.
how could she be with him hes in rome
Where is she, sir? Come nearer.
No farther halting! Satisfy me home
What is become of her.
Where is she, sir? Come closer. No more stalling! Tell me right now what has happened to her.
Where is she? Get over here. Stop stalling! Tell me what happened to her, now.
where is she stop lying tell me what happened
O my all-worthy lord!
Oh, my worthy lord!
Sir, I beg you!
sir please
All-worthy villain!
Discover where thy mistress is at once,
At the next word. No more of ‘worthy lord’!
Speak, or thy silence on the instant is
Thy condemnation and thy death.
Worthy villain! Tell me where your mistress is right now, at the next word. No more 'worthy lord'! Speak, or your silence right now will be your death sentence.
Stop the flattery! Tell me where she is right now or speak up. No more 'my lord'! Say something or silence means you're dead.
stop flattering me tell me where she is speak or youre dead
Then, sir,
This paper is the history of my knowledge
Touching her flight.
Then, sir, this paper tells the story of what I know about her escape.
Then, sir, this letter explains everything I know about where she's gone.
this letter explains everything
Let’s see’t. I will pursue her
Even to Augustus’ throne.
Let me see it. I will chase her even to Augustus' throne.
Let me see it. I'll pursue her all the way to Rome if I have to.
ill chase her to rome
When Cymbeline calls for Pisanio, Pisanio has a choice: deny everything or confess strategically. He chooses a middle path. He produces the letter from Posthumus that summoned Imogen to Milford Haven. This is true — it happened. But Pisanio withholds the murderous letter that preceded it. He confesses to helping Imogen flee, which he did, but he doesn't confess to the reason — to save her from the murder order. In offering partial truth (yes, I helped her, here's the letter), Pisanio allows Cymbeline to construct a plausible narrative: Posthumus lured my daughter away. The beauty of Pisanio's strategy is that it's not dishonest exactly — it's selective truth that serves Imogen's survival.
[_Aside._] Or this or perish.
She’s far enough; and what he learns by this
May prove his travel, not her danger.
Either this works or I'm ruined. She's far away now; and whatever he learns from this letter will only waste his time traveling, not put her in actual danger.
Either this plan works or I'm dead. She's already gone, and all he'll get from that letter is a wild goose chase - it won't put her in any real danger.
either this works or i'm done she's out of reach he'll just chase his tail
Humh!
Humh!
humh!
humh!...
[_Aside._] I’ll write to my lord she’s dead. O Imogen,
Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again!
I'll write to my lord that she's dead. Oh Imogen, may you wander safely and return safely again!
I'll tell Posthumus she died - that'll explain everything. Imogen, I hope you travel safely and make it back in one piece.
gonna tell him she's dead hope u stay safe imogen and make it back
Sirrah, is this letter true?
Tell me, is this letter true?
Is this letter genuine?
real or fake
Sir, as I think.
Sir, as I believe it is.
Sir, as far as I know, it is.
far as i know yeah
It is Posthumus’ hand; I know’t. Sirrah, if thou wouldst 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 soe’er I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly—I would
think thee an honest man; thou shouldst neither want my means for thy
relief nor my voice for thy preferment.
It's Posthumus' handwriting; I know it. Listen, if you won't be a villain but truly serve me, take on those jobs where I should have reason to use you seriously—that is, whatever wicked thing I command you to do, perform it directly and truly—I would think you an honest man; you would lack neither my money for your support nor my recommendation for your promotion.
It's his handwriting, I'd know it anywhere. Listen, if you want to be a good man and really serve me, then do whatever jobs I give you seriously—meaning, whatever twisted thing I ask you to do, do it completely and honestly—then I'd consider you a decent person. You'd have all my money and my support for getting ahead.
its his handwriting if you serve me truly do what i command i'll make you rich il support you
Well, my good lord.
As you wish, my lord.
I'll do it.
understood
Wilt thou serve me? For since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck
to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not, in the
course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou
serve me?
Will you serve me? Since you've patiently and steadily stayed loyal to the poor fortune of that beggar Posthumus, you can't, in any kind of fairness, fail to be a loyal follower of mine. Will you serve me?
Will you work for me? You've stuck with that worthless Posthumus through his bad luck, so you've got to be willing to stick with me now. Will you serve me?
youll serve me right youve stuck with posthumus now youll stick with me
Sir, I will.
Sir, I will.
sir, i will.
sir, i will....
Give me thy hand; here’s my purse. Hast any of thy late master’s
garments in thy possession?
Give me your hand; here's my money. Do you have any of your old master's clothes?
Shake my hand—here's payment. You still have any of Posthumus' old clothes?
take this money you got any of his clothes
I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he wore when he took
leave of my lady and mistress.
I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he wore when he said goodbye to my lady and mistress.
Yes sir, at my place—the outfit he wore when he left my lady.
yeah at my place the outfit he left in
The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither. Let it be thy
first service; go.
Your first task for me is to get that suit. Let that be your first job; go.
Your first job is to go get that suit. That's your first assignment. Go.
get that suit thats your first job
I shall, my lord.
I will, my lord.
I will, sir.
yes sir
Meet thee at Milford Haven! I forgot to ask him one thing; I’ll
remember’t anon. Even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee.
I would these garments were come. She said upon a time—the bitterness
of it I now belch from my heart—that she held the very garment of
Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person, together
with the adornment of my qualities. 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 hath
dined—which, as I say, to vex her I will execute in the clothes that
she so prais’d—to the court I’ll knock her back, foot her home again.
She hath despis’d me rejoicingly, and I’ll be merry in my revenge.
Meet me at Milford Haven! I forgot to ask him one thing; I'll remember it later. Right there, you villain Posthumus, I will kill you. I hope these clothes come soon. She said at one point—the bitterness of it I now throw up from my heart—that she valued the very clothes Posthumus wore more than my noble and natural form, along with all my good qualities. With that suit on my back I will attack her; first kill him, right in front of her. Then she'll see my strength, which will be torture for her to watch. He on the ground, my speech over his dead body, and when I'm done with her—which, like I said, I'll do in the clothes she loved so much—I'll drag her back to court. She has looked down on me with joy, and I'll be happy in my revenge.
Meet me at Milford Haven! I forgot something—I'll remember it. There, you piece of trash Posthumus, I'm going to kill you. I really hope these clothes arrive soon. She told me once—and just thinking about it makes me sick—that she respected his old outfit more than my actual body and all my great qualities. So when I wear his clothes, I'll attack her. I'll kill him right in front of her, and she'll see my power as a punishment. With him dead at my feet, after I'm done humiliating him, when I'm finished with her—and I'm going to do it in the clothes she loved so much—I'll drag her back to court kicking and screaming. She's looked down on me happily, and I'm going to be thrilled destroying her.
meet me at milford il kill you posthumus ill kill him in front of her shell see my power ill destroy her she looked down on me im gonna destroy her
Be those the garments?
Are those the clothes you're referring to?
Are those the right garments?
those the right clothes
Ay, my noble lord.
Yes, my lord.
Yes, those are them, my lord.
yep, those are the ones.
How long is’t since she went to Milford Haven?
How long has it been since she left for Milford Haven?
When did she leave for Milford Haven?
when did she leave
She can scarce be there yet.
She can barely be there yet.
She just left—she's barely had time to get there.
she just left
Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second thing that I have
commanded thee. The third is that thou wilt 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 to follow it!
Come, and be true.
Bring this outfit to my room; that's the second thing I've ordered you to do. The third is that you'll stay silent about my plan. Be loyal and true, and promotion will come to you. My revenge is now heading to Milford Haven; I wish I had wings to follow it! Come, and be loyal.
Get this outfit to my room—that's your second job. Third, keep your mouth shut about my plan. Be loyal and honest and you'll get ahead. I'm heading to Milford Haven for revenge and I wish I could fly! Come on, be true.
bring the suit to my room stay quiet about this be loyal and youll get ahead im heading to milford i need revenge
Thou bid’st me to my loss; for true to thee
Were to prove false, which I will never be,
To him that is most true. To Milford go,
And find not her whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow,
You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool’s speed
Be cross’d with slowness! Labour be his meed!
You're ordering me to fail; for being true to you would mean being false to him who is most true. To Milford go, and don't find her whom you pursue. Flow, flow, heavenly blessings, on her! Let this fool's speed be slowed by obstacles! Let exhaustion be his reward!
You're asking me to betray everything; to be true to you means betraying the man who's most loyal. Go to Milford if you must, but I hope you don't find her. Heavens, bless her journey! May this fool exhaust himself! May exhaustion be all he gets!
youre asking me to be a traitor i wont betray posthumus go to milford but i hope you dont find her bless her journey
The Reckoning
The political crisis (war with Rome) collides with the personal crisis (Imogen's disappearance). The scene is fast-moving and panicked. Cymbeline learns his daughter has vanished and assumes she's been lured away by Posthumus. The truth — that Posthumus ordered her killed — is of course unknown. Cloten's plan to pursue Imogen in Posthumus's clothes is both grotesque and structurally significant: he is literally trying to become Posthumus in order to destroy him. The Queen, alone briefly, reveals her satisfaction: whether Imogen is dead or dishonored, it serves her purposes.
If this happened today…
A king is saying goodbye to a foreign ambassador and preparing for war. His wife reminds him their daughter is missing. He orders a search. A messenger returns saying the daughter has fled with her husband's servant, apparently summoned by her exiled husband. The king, furious, vows revenge on the son-in-law. Then the oafish prince recruits the servant to help him chase the daughter down — planning to kill the husband and assault the daughter while wearing the husband's clothes.