The noise is round about us.
The sounds of battle are coming from all directions around us.
I hear fighting all around us.
sounds like fighting everywhere
Let us from it.
Let's get away from it then.
Let's get out of here.
let's go
What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it
From action and adventure?
What meaning do we find in living if we keep ourselves hidden from action and adventure?
What's the point of being alive if we never do anything exciting or take any risks?
whats the point of life if we never do anything?
Nay, what hope
Have we in hiding us? This way the Romans
Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us
For barbarous and unnatural revolts
During their use, and slay us after.
And anyway, what hope do we have in hiding? Either the Romans will kill us as enemies, or they'll capture us as barbaric rebels and use us for a while before executing us.
Besides, what good does it do to hide? The Romans will either kill us as enemies or capture us as wild rebels and work us to death.
hiding wont help. romans will kill us either way
Cymbeline is obsessed with an Elizabethan debate that Shakespeare never fully resolves: is nobility innate or acquired? Belarius has raised the princes in the wilderness, deliberately stripped of their titles, their court education, their social identity. His experiment should have produced men without courtly instincts. Instead it produced two young men who argue with military precision, feel shame at not having proved their courage, and choose duty over safety without hesitation. The scene argues that you cannot educate royal blood out of people — that something essential persists. But Shakespeare doesn't let the argument be simple: Belarius himself, a commoner who was unjustly exiled, is demonstrating the same moral courage. The play leaves open whether the boys are brave because they are princes, or princes because they are brave.
Sons,
We’ll higher to the mountains; there secure us.
To the King’s party there’s no going. Newness
Of Cloten’s death (we being not known, not muster’d
Among the bands) may drive us to a render
Where we have liv’d, and so extort from’s that
Which we have done, whose answer would be death,
Drawn on with torture.
Sons, let's go higher into the mountains to be safe there. There's no way to reach the King's side. The news of Cloten's death—and since we're unknown and not registered among any military units—might drive the Romans to demand where we come from, forcing us to reveal what we've done. And that revelation would bring torture and death.
Boys, let's head into the mountains where we'll be safe. We can't reach the king's forces anyway. And if the Romans find out about Cloten dying, they might force us to say where we're from and what we've been doing. That would get us killed.
go to mountains. can't reach the king. clotens death might get us tortured and killed
This is, sir, a doubt
In such a time nothing becoming you
Nor satisfying us.
Sir, this is a serious concern, but it's not appropriate for you to have it now, and it doesn't solve our problems.
Sir, that's the wrong thing to worry about right now, and it doesn't help us out.
thats not the right concern right now
It is not likely
That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,
Behold their quarter’d fires, have both their eyes
And ears so cloy’d importantly as now,
That they will waste their time upon our note,
To know from whence we are.
It's unlikely that when the Romans hear their horses neighing, see their camp fires, and have both their eyes and ears so completely occupied with their own concerns, they'll waste time trying to figure out who we are or where we come from.
Look, when the Romans get here with all their horses and fires and everything, they're going to be so busy they won't even care about us. They won't bother finding out who we are.
romans will be too busy with their own stuff. they wont care about us
O, I am known
Of many in the army. Many years,
Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him
From my remembrance. And, besides, the King
Hath not deserv’d my service nor your loves,
Who find in my exile the want of breeding,
The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless
To have the courtesy your cradle promis’d,
But to be still hot summer’s tanlings and
The shrinking slaves of winter.
The problem is I'm known to many soldiers in the army. Even though Cloten was young then and I haven't seen him since, I still remember him. And beyond that, the King hasn't deserved my service or your loyalty. You suffer in my exile the loss of good education and the hardship of this rough life, with no hope of getting the civilized manners you were born to, but instead spending summers burned dark and winters shivering.
I know a lot of soldiers, so they might recognize me. And even though Cloten was just a kid back then, I still remember him. Plus, the King never deserved to have my service or your love. You've lost out on good education because you're stuck with me in exile, living a hard life with none of the nice things you were supposed to have—just getting sunburned in summer and freezing in winter.
i know soldiers. king doesn't deserve us. u lost education and comfort. just heat and cold
Than be so,
Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to th’ army.
I and my brother are not known; yourself
So out of thought, and thereto so o’ergrown,
Cannot be questioned.
Rather than live like that, I'd rather die. Please, sir, let's go to the army. My brother and I are unknown, and you're so forgotten and aged that nobody will question you.
Better to die than keep living like this. Sir, please, let's join the fighting. Nobody knows us or you—nobody's going to recognize you.
rather die. let's join. nobodys knows us
Belarius is one of Shakespeare's most quietly tragic figures. He stole two royal children out of revenge and raised them as his sons for twenty years. He loves them. He also knows that keeping them hidden is, on some level, a continued crime — he has deprived Britain of its princes and the princes of their birthright. His reluctance to join the war is part cowardice, part genuine self-preservation, and part guilt: if they are recognized, everything he has built collapses. His aside at the end of the scene — 'their blood thinks scorn till it fly out and show them princes born' — is the admission he has been holding back for two decades. He has always known what they were. He just didn't know what to do about it. The war is, in a sense, his answer.
By this sun that shines,
I’ll thither. What thing is’t that I never
Did see man die! scarce ever look’d on blood
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison!
Never bestrid a horse, save one that had
A rider like myself, who ne’er wore rowel
Nor iron on his heel! I am asham’d
To look upon the holy sun, to have
The benefit of his blest beams, remaining
So long a poor unknown.
By this sun that shines, I'm going. I've never seen a man die! I've hardly ever seen blood except from cowardly hares, wild goats, and deer! I've never ridden a horse except on one that had a rider like myself, someone who never wore spurs or iron on his heels! I'm ashamed to look at the sun because I get the benefit of its blessed light while remaining so long a poor unknown person.
I swear on this sun, I'm going to fight. I've never seen a man die! I've barely ever seen blood except from hares and goats! I've never ridden a real war horse, only one with a rider like me, someone who never even wore spurs! I'm ashamed to face the sun and get its blessings while I stay poor and nobody.
i'm going to fight. never seen a man die. never rode a war horse. ashamed to waste the sun's blessings
By heavens, I’ll go!
If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave,
I’ll take the better care; but if you will not,
The hazard therefore due fall on me by
The hands of Romans!
By heaven, I'm going! If you'll bless me, sir, and give me permission, I'll be even more careful. But if you won't, then let the Romans defeat me!
I swear, I'm going! If you give me your blessing, I'll be twice as careful. But if you don't, then fine—let the Romans kill me!
im going! bless me and ill be careful. if not let romans kill me
So say I. Amen.
I agree. So be it.
Agreed. Same here.
same. lets go
No reason I, since of your lives you set
So slight a valuation, should reserve
My crack’d one to more care. Have with you, boys!
If in your country wars you chance to die,
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.
I have no reason to keep my worn-out life safe when you two put such little value on your own lives. Come on, boys! If you die fighting for your country, that's where I'll die too, and that's where I'll be buried. Lead on. (To himself: Time feels long. Their royal blood is eager to escape and show that they're princes born.)
I can't protect myself when you two are risking everything. Let's go, boys! If you die fighting for Britain, I'll die there too. Go ahead. (To myself: This feels like it's taking forever. Their noble blood is itching to get out there and prove they're princes.)
cant protect myself if u risk it all. lets go. if u die there ill die there too
The Reckoning
This is the scene where nature overrides nurture — or rather, proves they were the same thing all along. The brothers have been raised in a cave, cut off from the world of courts and battles, and yet the moment war arrives at their door, everything in them pulls toward it. Belarius's pragmatic caution looks like wisdom on paper; the boys' passionate refusal looks like recklessness. But the play is on the boys' side. When Belarius relents and mutters that their blood 'thinks scorn' until it can prove them princes, Shakespeare gives us the scene's real argument: some things cannot be hidden, even in a Welsh cave.
If this happened today…
Three people who've been living off-grid in the mountains for twenty years — two young men raised there and the older man who took them — hear that a war has started in the valley below. The older man says: stay hidden, we don't need the trouble, we'll go deeper into the hills. The younger two say: we're going. The older one argues: they'll arrest us. The younger two say: better to die trying than to rot up here doing nothing. The older man, who secretly knows the boys are princes, realizes he cannot keep suppressing who they are. He goes with them.