Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made
Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart
That the poor soldier that so richly fought,
Whose rags sham’d gilded arms, whose naked breast
Stepp’d before targes of proof, cannot be found.
He shall be happy that can find him, if
Our grace can make him so.
Stand beside me, you whom the gods have made Preservers of my throne. My heart aches For the poor soldier who fought so magnificently, Whose ragged clothes shamed the gilded armor of nobles, whose bare chest Stepped in front of impenetrable shields—he cannot be found. Whoever finds him will be rewarded, if My power can grant him happiness.
Stay by me, you—the ones the gods put here to keep my throne safe. It breaks my heart, this soldier, so brave in his rags, his chest bare while the rich ones hid behind armor. Where is he? Find him and I'll make sure he's taken care of.
stand w me, you gods put here to protect my throne my heart breaks for that soldier fought so hard in rags while nobles had armor cant find him find him and ill reward him
I never saw
Such noble fury in so poor a thing;
Such precious deeds in one that promis’d nought
But beggary and poor looks.
I never saw Such noble fury in so poor a creature; Such precious deeds in one who promised nothing But beggary and poverty.
I've never seen someone so poor fight with such nobility, show such incredible courage. This person—you'd expect them to have nothing to offer, but they gave everything.
never seen such nobility in a poor person such amazing deeds expected beggary, got everything instead
No tidings of him?
Any news of him?
Have you heard anything about him? Found him yet?
found him yet?
He hath been search’d among the dead and living,
But no trace of him.
He has been searched for among the dead and the living, But there's no trace of him.
We've looked everywhere—checked the bodies, checked among the survivors. Nothing. He's vanished.
looked everywhere living and dead no trace
To my grief, I am
The heir of his reward, [_To Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus_] which
I will add
To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain,
By whom I grant she lives. ’Tis now the time
To ask of whence you are. Report it.
To my sorrow, I have become The inheritor of his reward, which I will give To you—the heart, mind, and strength of Britain, By whose work Britain survives. Now is the time To ask where you come from. Tell me.
I hate that I'm the one who gets to reward him. But you three—you're the real backbone of Britain, the ones who saved everything. So I'm giving his reward to you instead. Now tell me who you are. Where did you come from?
im the one who gets his reward ill give it to you three youre the heart and strength of britain now tell me—where are you from?
Sir,
In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen;
Further to boast were neither true nor modest,
Unless I add we are honest.
Sir, We were born in Wales, and we are gentlemen; To boast further would be neither true nor modest, Unless I add that we are honest men.
We're from Wales, sir, and we come from good families. But we're not going to brag about it—that's not honest. The only thing worth saying is that we tell the truth.
from wales were gentlemen nothing more to say except we're honest
Bow your knees.
Arise my knights o’ th’ battle; I create you
Companions to our person, and will fit you
With dignities becoming your estates.
Kneel down. Rise up as my knights of battle; I make you Companions to my court, and I will give you Titles suited to your standing.
Kneel. Now stand—you're knights now, part of my inner circle. I'm giving you ranks and titles that match who you really are.
kneel rise as knights youre my companions now ill give you proper titles
There’s business in these faces. Why so sadly
Greet you our victory? You look like Romans,
And not o’ th’ court of Britain.
There's something serious in your expressions. Why do you greet our victory with such sadness? You look like Romans, not members of the British court.
I can see something's bothering you. Why do you look so sad about our victory? You seem like Romans, not people from Britain.
something's off about your faces. why so sad about our win? you look roman not british.
Hail, great King!
To sour your happiness I must report
The Queen is dead.
Greetings, great King! I must sadden your joy by reporting The Queen is dead.
Your Majesty! I wish I had better news, but the Queen—she's gone.
hail great king i have bad news the queen is dead
Who worse than a physician
Would this report become? But I consider
By med’cine life may be prolong’d, yet death
Will seize the doctor too. How ended she?
Who could deliver such a report more appropriately than a physician? But I think about it—medicine may prolong life, but death Will take the doctor too. How did she die?
A doctor delivering bad news—that's fitting, I guess. But listen, medicine can only delay things. Death comes for everyone, even the healer. How did she go? What happened?
doctors tell bad news medicine delays death death takes everyone how'd she die?
With horror, madly dying, like her life;
Which, being cruel to the world, concluded
Most cruel to herself. What she confess’d
I will report, so please you; these her women
Can trip me if I err, who with wet cheeks
Were present when she finish’d.
In horror, dying madly, like she lived; Her cruelty to the world concluded In cruelty to herself. What she confessed I will tell, if you wish; these women here Were present when she died, and if I'm wrong They can stop me—they have tears on their faces From when she finished.
It was horrible—she died in madness, the way she lived, cruel to everyone around her and then cruel to herself. She confessed things. The ladies here saw it all happen, so if I get anything wrong, they'll correct me. They're still crying.
died horrible and mad cruel to the world then cruel to herself these ladies saw it they're still crying
Prithee say.
Please tell me.
Go ahead. Tell me what she said.
tell me
First, she confess’d she never lov’d you; only
Affected greatness got by you, not you;
Married your royalty, was wife to your place;
Abhorr’d your person.
First, she admitted she never loved you; she only Wanted the power you gave her, not you; She married your position, was the wife of your rank; She hated you as a person.
First thing she said: she never loved you. Not once. She wanted the power, the position—she married your crown, not you. And honestly, she couldn't stand who you actually were.
never loved you wanted your power not you married your position hated you as a person
She alone knew this;
And but she spoke it dying, I would not
Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.
She alone knew this; And if she hadn't spoken it while dying, I would not Believe it coming from her mouth. Continue.
She was the only one who knew that. If she hadn't said it while she was dying, I wouldn't believe it— she was always so careful with her words. Keep going.
only she knew that wouldnt believe it otherwise keep going
Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love
With such integrity, she did confess
Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life,
But that her flight prevented it, she had
Ta’en off by poison.
Your daughter, whom she pretended to love With such care, she confessed Was like a scorpion to her—hateful; whose life, But her running away prevented it, she would have Killed with poison.
Your daughter—the one she acted like she loved so much— she actually hated her. Said she wanted to poison her. Would've done it too, except your daughter got away first.
hated your daughter pretended to love her wanted to poison her daughter escaped
O most delicate fiend!
Who is’t can read a woman? Is there more?
O most evil deceiver! Who can read a woman? Is there more?
What a monster. Who can ever understand women? Is that all?
evil deceiver who can understand women more?
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 ling’ring,
By inches waste you. In which time she purpos’d,
By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
O’ercome you with her show; and in time,
When she had fitted you with her craft, to work
Her son into th’ adoption of the crown;
But failing of her end by his strange absence,
Grew shameless-desperate, open’d, in despite
Of heaven and men, her purposes, repented
The evils she hatch’d were not effected; so,
Despairing, died.
More, sir, and worse. She admitted she had For you a deadly poison which, when taken, Would feed on your life minute by minute, slowly Wearing you away. While this happened she planned To win you over through her attention, tears, care, kissing, to Overpower you with her false love; and in time, When she had deceived you with her tricks, to arrange For her son to inherit the crown; But failing in her goal when he mysteriously disappeared, She became shameless and desperate, revealed, in defiance Of heaven and men, her plans, regretted That the evils she created were not carried out; so, Despairing, she died.
There's more—much worse. She had this deadly poison for you. If you'd taken it, it would've slowly eaten your life away, bit by bit. Meanwhile she was going to act like she loved you—tears, kisses, all of it— just to gain your trust. Then once she had you completely fooled, she was going to set things up so her son gets the throne. But when her son disappeared—he was supposed to come back— she lost it. Confessed everything, didn't care who heard. She regretted that her evil plan never actually happened. Then she just gave up and died.
worse news she had poison for you would slowly kill you planned to seduce you get her son on throne son disappeared so plan failed she confessed everything regretted it didn't work then died
Heard you all this, her women?
All of you heard this, didn't you, her ladies?
You all heard her say this, right? You women who were with her?
you all heard this right?
We did, so please your Highness.
We did, if it pleases your Highness.
Yes, your Majesty. We all heard it.
yeah we heard it
Mine eyes
Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;
Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart
That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious
To have mistrusted her; yet, O my daughter!
That it was folly in me thou mayst say,
And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!
My eyes Were not at fault, because she was beautiful; My ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart That thought her similar to her appearance. It would have been wrong To have distrusted her; but, O my daughter! That it was foolish of me—your pain could prove that, And feel it through that proof. Heaven help us all!
I'm not blaming my eyes—she was beautiful. Or my ears—she said all the right things. Or my heart that believed what she seemed to be. You can't blame someone for trusting beauty and kindness. But my daughter—knowing what I know now, I was a fool. You've suffered because of my blindness. I can only pray for mercy.
beautiful so i trusted her she said right things i believed her not wrong to trust but im a fool my daughter suffered for it god help us all
guarded; Posthumus behind, and Imogen.
Thou com’st not, Caius, now for tribute; that
The Britons have raz’d out, though with the loss
Of many a bold one, whose kinsmen have made suit
That their good souls may be appeas’d with slaughter
Of you their captives, which ourself have granted;
So think of your estate.
You do not come now to demand tribute; the Britons have wiped out that obligation, though at great cost—many brave men died. Their kinsmen have asked that we slaughter you, the Roman captives, to satisfy the spirits of their dead, and I have agreed to this. So consider what your situation means.
You're not here to collect tribute anymore—the Britons have ended that, but we paid with a lot of good men dead. Their families want me to kill you prisoners to honor the dead, and I've said yes. So think about what that means for you.
no tribute now. britons destroyed that. but many good men died. families want you captives killed to honor them. i've agreed. think about that.
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 threaten’d
Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods
Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives
May be call’d ransom, let it come. Sufficeth
A Roman with a Roman’s heart can suffer.
Augustus lives to think on’t; and so much
For my peculiar care. This one thing only
I will entreat: my boy, a Briton born,
Let him be ransom’d. Never master had
A page so kind, so duteous, diligent,
So tender over his occasions, true,
So feat, so nurse-like; let his virtue join
With my request, which I’ll make bold your Highness
Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm
Though he have serv’d a Roman. Save him, sir,
And spare no blood beside.
Consider the fortune of war, sir. You won today by chance. If we Romans had won, we would not have threatened our captives with death once we'd calmed down. But since the gods have decided that only our lives count as ransom, so be it. It's fitting that a true Roman can endure this. The Emperor will think of it; that shows how much I personally care. But I ask just one thing: my page, who was born British, let him be spared. Never did a master have a page so loyal, so dutiful, so diligent, so devoted, so true, so nurturing. Let his character strengthen my plea, which I'm certain your Highness will not refuse. He's harmed no Briton though he has served a Roman. Spare him, and spare no other blood.
Think about the nature of war, sir. You won today by pure luck. If we had won, we would not have threatened our prisoners with death once things settled down. But since the gods decided that only our lives count as ransom, then that's how it is. It's proper that a true Roman can handle this. The Emperor will think about it; that shows my personal concern. But I'm asking just one thing: my page, who was born British, let him live. Never did any master have a page so loyal, so dutiful, so caring, so attentive, so true, so like a nurse. Let his goodness back up my request—and I'm confident your Highness will grant it. He hasn't hurt any Briton, even though he served a Roman. Spare him, and kill the rest of us.
it was luck you won today. if we'd won, we wouldn't kill prisoners. but the gods decided otherwise. only one thing: spare my page. he's british, loyal, dutiful, true. never a better servant. kill us, but spare him.
I have surely seen him;
His favour is familiar to me. Boy,
Thou hast look’d thyself into my grace,
And art mine own. I know not why, wherefore
To say “Live, boy.” Ne’er thank thy master. Live;
And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt,
Fitting my bounty and thy state, I’ll give it;
Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner,
The noblest ta’en.
I have definitely seen him; His face is familiar to me. Boy, You have won my favor through your looks, And now you are mine. I do not know why, exactly, But I will say "Live, boy." Do not thank your master. Live; And ask me, Cymbeline, for any reward you wish, Fitting my power and your station, and I will give it; Yes, though you ask for a prisoner, The most important one captured.
I know him—I've seen him. There's something about his face. Just by looking at him, I like him. He's mine now. I'm going to say it: "Live, boy." Don't worry about your master. Live. Ask me for anything you want—whatever fits who you are and what I can give. Even if you ask me to free a prisoner, I'll do it. Even the most important one.
seen him before face is familiar win my favor boy youre mine now live dont thank your master ask me for anything ill give it even a prisoner
I humbly thank your Highness.
I'm grateful for your generosity, your Majesty.
Thank you so much, that's incredibly kind of you.
thanks your majesty
I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad,
And yet I know thou wilt.
I do not ask you to save my life, good boy, And yet I know you will.
Don't ask me for my life, kid. But I know that's what you're going to do anyway.
dont ask me to live but you will
No, no! Alack,
There’s other work in hand. I see a thing
Bitter to me as death; your life, good master,
Must shuffle for itself.
No, no! Oh no, There is other work to do right now. I see something Bitter to me as death; your life, good master, Must take care of itself.
No! Wait—there's something else I need to do. I see something that's breaking my heart. Your life, master, you'll have to look after yourself right now.
no no other things happening see something terrible your life has to wait master
The boy disdains me,
He leaves me, scorns me. Briefly die their joys
That place them on the truth of girls and boys.
Why stands he so perplex’d?
The boy rejects me, He leaves me, scorns me. Short is the joy Of those who put their trust in girls and boys. Why does he stand there so bewildered?
The kid just rejected me— walked away. So much for trusting youth. There goes that. What's he standing there looking confused for?
he rejected me walked away so much for trusting boys why's he confused
What wouldst thou, boy?
I love thee more and more; think more and more
What’s best to ask. Know’st him thou look’st on? Speak,
Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?
What do you want, boy? I like you more and more; think about more and more What would be best to ask. Do you know him you are looking at? Speak, Will you have him live? Is he related to you? A friend?
What is it, boy? What do you want? I'm growing fonder of you—think about what you'd like to ask for. Look at who you're staring at—do you know him? Answer me. Do you want him to live? Is he family? A friend?
what do you want boy i like you more and more think about what to ask know him want him to live family or friend
He is a Roman, no more kin to me
Than I to your Highness; who, being born your vassal,
Am something nearer.
He is a Roman, no closer to me by blood Than I am to your Highness; but I, Being born your subject, am something nearer to you.
He's a Roman—no relation to me at all. I'm actually closer to you, your Majesty, since I was born here and serve you.
hes roman no relation im british born your subject closer to you
Wherefore ey’st him so?
Why are you looking at him so intensely?
So why are you staring at him like that?
why stare at him
I’ll tell you, sir, in private, if you please
To give me hearing.
I will tell you, sir, in private, if you will Give me a chance to speak.
I'll explain, sir—if you'll let me talk to you alone.
tell you in private if you listen
Ay, with all my heart,
And lend my best attention. What’s thy name?
Yes, with my whole heart, And I will pay close attention. What is your name?
Of course. I'm all ears. But first—what's your name?
yeah listen whats your name
Fidele, sir.
Fidele, sir.
fidele, sir.
fidele, sir....
Thou’rt my good youth, my page;
I’ll be thy master. Walk with me; speak freely.
You are my good youth, my page; I will be your master. Walk with me; speak freely.
You're my young page—I like you. I'll be your master. Come with me and tell me everything.
youre my page il be your master walk with me tell me everything
Is not this boy reviv’d from death?
Is this boy brought back from death?
Wait—is this boy... alive? We thought he was dead.
boy came back from death
One sand another
Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad
Who died and was Fidele. What think you?
This boy resembles that sweet rosy lad who died—Fidele—as closely as one grain of sand resembles another.
He looks just like that sweet rosy boy who died, Fidele—as alike as two grains of sand.
he looks identical to fidele. like two grains of sand.
The same dead thing alive.
The same dead person come back to life.
It's the same person. Dead, but alive.
same person dead but alive
Peace, peace! see further. He eyes us not; forbear.
Creatures may be alike; were’t he, I am sure
He would have spoke to us.
Quiet, everyone! Look more carefully. He is not looking at us; say nothing. People may look alike; if it were him, I am sure He would have spoken to us.
Shh, wait. Look closer. He's not even noticing us. People can look alike, sure, but if that really was him, he'd say something to us.
quiet look closer he dont see us people look alike if it was him hed speak
But we see him dead.
But we saw him dead.
But we saw his body. He was definitely dead.
we saw him dead tho
Be silent; let’s see further.
Be silent; let us observe further.
Stop. Let's just watch and see what happens.
shut up lets see
[_Aside._] It is my mistress.
Since she is living, let the time run on
To good or bad.
It is my mistress. Since she is alive, let time take its course, whether for good or bad.
That's my mistress! Since she's actually alive, whatever happens now - good or bad - let it happen.
that's my mistress she's alive let whatever happens happen
Come, stand thou by our side;
Make thy demand aloud. [_To Iachimo._] Sir, step you forth;
Give answer to this boy, and do it freely,
Or, by our greatness and the grace of it,
Which is our honour, bitter torture shall
Winnow the truth from falsehood. On, speak to him.
Come, stand by me; Make your request aloud. To this man here: Answer this boy, and do it freely, Or, by my power and the honor it carries, Which is our greatest treasure, bitter torture will Extract the truth from falsehood. Speak to him, now.
Come stand here with me. Make your request out loud. And you—this man— answer the boy truthfully, or by my power and my honor, I swear I'll use torture to beat the truth out of you. Speak.
stand by me state your request man answer the boy truthfully or torture speak now
My boon is that this gentleman may render
Of whom he had this ring.
My request is that this gentleman explain Where he got this ring.
I want to know where this man got this ring. That's all I'm asking.
where'd this man get this ring that's my request
[_Aside._] What’s that to him?
What does that have to do with him?
What's that got to do with him?
how is he involved
Cymbeline 5.5 is the most structurally complex recognition scene Shakespeare ever wrote. It contains roughly twenty separate revelations in sequence: the Queen's villainy, her death, her plot against Cymbeline, her plot against Imogen, the entry of the prisoners, Imogen's survival, Iachimo's confession, Posthumus's appearance, the strike and reunion, the drug mystery solved, Cloten's death confessed, Guiderius's identity, Belarius's identity, the princes revealed as Cymbeline's sons, the birthmark confirmed, the mantle produced, Posthumus named as the unknown soldier, Iachimo's return of the ring, Posthumus's forgiveness, and finally the soothsayer's oracle interpreted. This isn't coincidence — it's engineering. Shakespeare spent five acts salting away secrets that all needed to come out at once. Critics who call the scene crowded are right but miss the point: the crowding is deliberate, producing something like dizziness in the audience, a sensation that the world is reorganizing itself too fast to follow. The only comparable sequence in his work is the final act of The Winter's Tale — and that scene has half the pieces.
That diamond upon your finger, say
How came it yours?
That diamond on your finger—tell me, How did you come to have it?
That ring on your hand. How did you get it?
that ring how'd you get it
Thou’lt torture me to leave unspoken that
Which to be spoke would torture thee.
If I don't speak, you will torture me; But if I speak, it will torture you.
You'll torture me if I stay quiet. But if I tell you, it's going to hurt you to hear it.
torture me if i dont speak but youll hurt hearing the truth
How? me?
How? me?
how? me?
how? me?...
I am glad to be constrain’d to utter that
Which torments me to conceal. By villainy
I got this ring; ’twas Leonatus’ jewel,
Whom thou didst banish; and—which more may grieve thee,
As it doth me—a nobler sir ne’er liv’d
’Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?
I am glad to be forced to say What silence would torment me to hold back. Through crime I got this ring; it belonged to Leonatus, Whom you banished; and—what grieves you more, As it grieves me—a more noble man never lived Between sky and earth. Will you hear more, my lord?
I'm actually relieved to finally say this out loud— keeping it in was killing me. I got the ring through crime. It was Leonatus's—the man you banished. And let me tell you, he was one of the most noble men who ever lived. Worse yet? He was noble in a way I can never be. Do you want to hear more, sir?
glad to say this kept it in too long got it through crime it was leonatus's you banished him he was noble as hell worst part? want more
All that belongs to this.
Tell me everything about this.
Tell me everything. Don't leave anything out.
tell me all of it
That paragon, thy daughter,
For whom my heart drops blood and my false spirits
Quail to remember—Give me leave, I faint.
That paragon, your daughter, For whom my heart bleeds and my false spirit Shakes to remember—Let me rest, I am faint.
Your daughter—she's perfect, and thinking about her breaks my heart and makes me sick. I need to sit down. I'm dizzy.
your daughter shes perfect thinking of her breaks me im faint
My daughter? What of her? Renew thy strength;
I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will
Than die ere I hear more. Strive, man, and speak.
My daughter? What about her? Recover yourself; I would rather have you live while nature allows Than die before I hear more. Push yourself, man, and speak.
My daughter? What about her? Get yourself together— I'd rather hear the whole story even if you suffer through it. Come on, keep talking.
my daughter what about her recover tell me more keep going
Upon a time, unhappy was the clock
That struck the hour: was in Rome, accurs’d
The mansion where: ’twas at a feast, O, would
Our viands had been poison’d (or at least
Those which I heav’d to head) the good Posthumus
(What should I say? he was too good to be
Where ill men were, and was the best of all
Amongst the rar’st of good ones) sitting sadly
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy
For beauty that made barren the swell’d boast
Of him that best could speak; for feature, laming
The shrine of Venus or straight-pight Minerva,
Postures beyond brief nature; for condition,
A shop of all the qualities that man
Loves woman for; besides that hook of wiving,
Fairness which strikes the eye.
I was in Rome—an unhappy time. It was at a feast—I wish the food had been poisoned, or at least what I ate. There was Posthumus, that good man (what can I say? he was too good to be among wicked men, and was the best among the rarest of good people), sitting sadly, listening to us praise our Italian lovers. We spoke of their beauty, which put to shame anyone who tried to describe it. Their features were like Venus or Minerva—perfect, beyond ordinary nature. Their qualities were everything a man could want in a woman, especially their beauty that catches the eye.
This was in Rome—at an unhappy time, at a feast. I wish the food had been poison. There was Posthumus, good man that he was, and he was the best among all the good people there, too good really to be around such men—he sat there sadly listening while we all praised our Italian lovers. Their beauty that outdid anything anyone could say, their perfect features like Venus or Minerva sculpted in stone, everything that makes a woman beautiful and worth loving, especially that face that just stops you dead.
we were at a feast in rome. postrumus sat there listening sadly. while we praised our italian lovers. beauty beyond words. perfect faces. everything a man wants.
I stand on fire.
Come to the matter.
I am burning with desire to know. Get to the point.
I'm dying to know where this goes. Hurry up.
get to the point
All too soon I shall,
Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus,
Most like a noble lord in love and one
That had a royal lover, took his hint;
And (not dispraising whom we prais’d, therein
He was as calm as virtue) he began
His mistress’ picture; which by his tongue being made,
And then a mind put in’t, either our brags
Were crack’d of kitchen trulls, or his description
Prov’d us unspeaking sots.
I will reach it very soon, Unless you want me to hurt you quickly. This Leonatus, Like a noble lord in love, and one Who had a royal lover, took the hint; And (not insulting the ones we praised, in which He was as calm as virtue) he began To paint his lover in words; which through his speaking, And then a mind put into it, either our boasts Were broken down as kitchen lies, or his description Proved us silent fools.
I'll get there, unless you want me to tell you it hurt. Leonatus was so in love, so noble. He didn't insult us or anything—he stayed calm and respectful. But he started to describe your daughter in words. And the more he talked, the more real she became. Our boasts about our lovers looked like lies. His words made us look like idiots.
leonatus so in love noble described your daughter words made her real our boasts looked fake we looked like fools
Nay, nay, to th’ purpose.
Just get to the heart of it.
Cut to the chase—what actually happened?
get to the point
Your daughter’s chastity (there it begins)
He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams
And she alone were cold; whereat I, wretch,
Made scruple of his praise, and wager’d with him
Pieces of gold ’gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour’d finger, to attain
In suit the place of’s 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;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle
Of Phoebus’ wheel; and might so safely, had it
Been all the worth of’s car. Away to Britain
Post I in this design. Well may you, sir,
Remember me at court, where I was taught
Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
’Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quench’d
Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
Gan in your duller Britain operate
Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent;
And, to be brief, my practice so prevail’d
That I return’d with simular proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad,
By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus and thus; averring notes
Of chamber-hanging, 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 crack’d,
I having ta’en the forfeit. Whereupon
Methinks I see him now—
Your daughter's chastity (there it starts) He spoke of her as if Diana had hot dreams And she alone was unmoved; and I, wretch, Questioned his praise, and wagered against him with him Gold coins for this ring that he then wore On his honored finger, to succeed In getting into his lover's bed, and win this ring Through her and my adultery. He, true knight, No less confident of her honor Than I truly found her to be, risked this ring; And would have done so, had it been a great jewel Of the sun god's chariot; and he could have safely, had it Been all the worth of his chariot. I travel to Britain With this plan. You may remember me at court, where I learned From your chaste daughter the true difference Between love and villainy. Being thus cut off From hope, not desire, my Italian mind Worked in your duller Britain Most evilly; for my advantage, perfect; And, to be brief, my plot was so successful That I returned with false proof enough To drive the noble Leonatus mad, By damaging his faith in her reputation With tokens like this and this; saying I had seen Details of her bedroom, pictures, her bracelet (Oh, how cleverly I got it!) and even marks Of secret places on her body, so that he could not But think her purity was completely destroyed, I having taken the payment. Then I imagine I see him now—
Your daughter's purity—that's what we argued about. He talked about her like she was the only perfect woman in the world. And I—dirty, vile—I made a bet with him. I wagered gold against his ring. If I could get her into bed, the ring was mine. He accepted the bet. He was so confident in her honor, he didn't even hesitate. I took the ring and came to Britain. Your daughter taught me what it means to be virtuous. But I couldn't let it go—my brain twisted it into something evil. I came back with fake proof. I told him I'd been with her, described her bedroom, her jewelry. I even claimed I had marks on her skin to prove it. I drove him insane—made him believe she cheated. Then I came back here, and I thought—
bet him about your daughter her purity he said shes perfect i said no wagered gold vs his ring if i get her in bed i win he took it i came to britain converted his faith came back with lies said i slept with her showed fake proof drove him crazy then i came back
[_Coming forward._] Ay, so thou dost,
Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, anything
That’s due to all the villains past, in being,
To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright justicer! Thou, King, send out
For torturers ingenious. It is I
That all th’ abhorred things o’ th’ earth amend
By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
That kill’d thy daughter; villain-like, I lie;
That caus’d a lesser villain than myself,
A sacrilegious thief, to do’t. The temple
Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.
Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set
The dogs o’ th’ street to bay me. Every villain
Be call’d Posthumus Leonatus, and
Be villainy less than ’twas! O Imogen!
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!
Yes, there he is, Italian devil! I'm a complete fool, an egregious murderer and thief - guilty of every wicked thing that has been, is, or will be! Oh, give me a rope, a knife, or poison - some instrument of justice! You, King, bring in expert torturers. I'm the one who makes all the horrible things in this world worse just by being worse than they are. I am Posthumus, and I killed your daughter - or I lie like a coward: I made another villain, a sacrilegious thief, do it. Your daughter was a temple of virtue, yes and virtue itself. Spit on me, throw stones, throw mud, let the dogs bark at me! Every villain should be called Posthumus Leonatus, and no villainy should be as bad as mine! Oh Imogen! My queen, my life, my wife! Imogen, Imogen, Imogen!
There you are, you Italian scumbag! I'm the worst fool alive, a murderer and a thief - guilty of every horrible thing you can imagine! Oh, give me a rope, a knife, poison - anything! King, bring in the torture experts! I'm so evil I make the world's evil look good. I'm Posthumus, and I killed your daughter - well, I'm lying: I got some other criminal to do it. But your daughter was pure goodness itself - virtue in human form. Spit on me, stone me, throw mud, let the dogs chase me! Every criminal should be called Posthumus Leonatus, and crime should be less evil than what I did! Oh Imogen! My queen, my life, my wife! Imogen! Imogen! Imogen!
there he is italian devil im the worst fool im a murderer and thief im so evil im posthumus who killed ur daughter but she was pure virtue im worse than all evil oh imogen my wife my queen
Peace, my lord. Hear, hear!
Peace, my lord. Listen, listen!
Calm down. Hear me out. Listen!
calm down Listen
Shall’s have a play of this? Thou scornful page,
There lies thy part.
Will we perform this as a play? Scornful page, Your part is down there.
Are we going to act out this whole thing? You mocking little page, there's your body.
theater show scornful page theres your part
O gentlemen, help!
Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus!
You ne’er kill’d Imogen till now. Help, help!
Mine honour’d lady!
Help me, gentlemen! This is your mistress! Oh, my lord Posthumus! You have just killed Imogen! Help, help! My honored lady!
Help! Somebody help! That's your lady! Oh Posthumus! You just killed Imogen! Help, please! My lady!
help help help that's ur mistress posthumus u just killed imogen
Does the world go round?
Does the world still turn?
Is this really happening? Is the world still turning?
is this real world still turning
How comes these staggers on me?
Why do I feel like I'm spinning?
What's happening to me—why is everything whirling?
why dizzy
Wake, my mistress!
Wake, my mistress!
wake, my mistress!
wake, my mistress!...
If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me
To death with mortal joy.
If this is true, the gods plan To strike me down with joy so intense it kills.
If this is real, the gods are going to kill me with happiness.
if true gods will kill me with joy
How fares my mistress?
How is my lady?
How is she? Is she all right?
how is she
O, get thee from my sight;
Thou gav’st me poison. Dangerous fellow, hence!
Breathe not where princes are.
Get away from me; You gave me poison. Dangerous creature, leave! Do not breathe where kings and queens are.
Get away from me. You're the one who gave me the poison. Get out of here! Don't even be in the same room as royalty.
get away you gave me poison dangerous get out dont be near princes
The tune of Imogen!
It is Imogen's voice!
That's Imogen speaking! I recognize her voice!
thats imogen her voice
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.
My lady, may the gods strike me down with burning sulphur if that box I gave you wasn't something I genuinely thought was precious! I received it from the Queen.
Lady, if that box I gave you wasn't something I actually believed was valuable and good, may the gods burn me with sulphur. I got it from the Queen.
if that box wasnt precious i deserve 2 burn i got it from the queen
New matter still?
New matter still?
new matter still?
new matter still?...
It poison’d me.
It poison’d me.
it poison’d me.
it poison’d me....
O gods!
I left out one thing which the Queen confess’d,
Which must approve thee honest. ‘If Pisanio
Have’ said she ‘given his mistress that confection
Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv’d
As I would serve a rat.’
O gods! I forgot one thing that the Queen confessed, Which proves your honesty. 'If Pisanio Has given his lady that mixture Which I gave him as a sleeping draught, she will be treated As I would treat a rat.'
Oh! I just remembered—the Queen said something else that proves you're innocent. She said if you gave your lady that potion she gave you— which she said would just make you sleep— she'd want you treated like a rat. That proves you didn't know.
queen confessed proves your honest said if you gave her the potion shed want you treated bad proves you didnt know
What’s this, Cornelius?
What’s this, Cornelius?
what’s this, cornelius?
what’s this, cornelius?...
The Queen, sir, very oft importun’d me
To temper poisons for her; still pretending
The satisfaction of her knowledge only
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs,
Of no esteem. I, dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certain stuff, which, being ta’en would cease
The present pow’r of life, but in short time
All offices of nature should again
Do their due functions. Have you ta’en of it?
The Queen, sir, asked me many times To make poisons for her; always claiming That she only wanted them for knowledge To kill vile creatures, like cats and dogs, Of no value. I, fearing her true purpose Was something more dangerous, made for her A certain drug that, when taken, would stop The immediate signs of life, but in a short time All the body's functions would return To normal. Have you taken any of it?
Your Majesty, the Queen kept asking me to make poisons for her. She claimed it was just to experiment on animals— cats, dogs, things like that. But I got suspicious. I thought she was planning something worse. So I made her something else instead—something that would make you appear dead for a while but then wake you up. Did you take that?
queen asked for poisons said was for animals i got suspicious made her something else would make you sleep then wake up did you take it
Most like I did, for I was dead.
I probably did, because I was dead.
I must have—I was completely unconscious.
prob did i was dead
My boys,
There was our error.
My sons, We were mistaken.
My boys, we were wrong. We made a mistake.
my sons we were wrong
This is sure Fidele.
This is certainly Fidele.
This is definitely Fidele. No question.
definitely fidele
Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?
Think that you are upon a rock, and now
Throw me again.
Why did you throw your married wife away from you? Imagine you are standing on a rock, and now Throw me again.
Why did you throw me away? We're married. Go ahead—if you need to, throw me off a cliff again.
why throw me away were married throw me again if you need
Hang there like fruit, my soul,
Till the tree die!
Stay attached to me like fruit on a branch, Till the tree dies!
Hold on to me—like fruit hanging from a tree. We'll stay together till the end.
hang on to me like fruit on tree well stay together till end
How now, my flesh? my child?
What, mak’st thou me a dullard in this act?
Wilt thou not speak to me?
What now, my own blood? My child? What, are you making me look foolish in this moment? Will you not speak to me?
My daughter! My child! My own flesh and blood! Are you making me look stupid right now? Won't you say something?
my child my blood will you speak to me
[_Kneeling._] Your blessing, sir.
Your blessing, sir.
Bless me, father.
ur blessing sir
[_To Guiderius and Arviragus._] Though you did love this youth, I blame
ye not;
You had a motive for’t.
Though you loved this youth, I don't blame you; you had good reason for it.
I don't blame you for loving this youth - you had your reasons.
i don't blame u u had ur reasons
My tears that fall
Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,
Thy mother’s dead.
My tears that fall Prove to be holy water on you! Imogen, Your mother is dead.
My tears—let them be like holy water washing you clean. Imogen, your mother is gone.
my tears like holy water mother is dead
I am sorry for’t, my lord.
I am sorry for it, my lord.
I'm sorry to hear that, your Majesty.
sorry to hear that
O, she was naught, and long of her it was
That we meet here so strangely; but her son
Is gone, we know not how nor where.
She was wicked, and because of her it is That we meet here in this strange way; but her son Is gone, we do not know how or where.
She was evil—all of this happening is her fault. But her son? He's disappeared. We have no idea where he is or what happened.
shes evil her fault were here her son disappeared no clue where
My lord,
Now fear is from me, I’ll speak troth. Lord Cloten,
Upon my lady’s missing, came to me
With his sword drawn, foam’d at the mouth, and swore,
If I discover’d 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 on the mountains near to Milford;
Where, in a frenzy, in my master’s garments,
Which he enforc’d 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.
My lord, Now that I have no reason to fear, I will tell the truth. Lord Cloten, When my lady went missing, came to me With his sword drawn, foam at his mouth, and swore, If I did not reveal which way she had gone, I would die immediately. By chance I had a false letter from my master's hand Then in my pocket, which directed him To look for her on the mountains near Milford; Where, in a frenzy, wearing my master's clothes, Which he took from me by force, he went with speed With violent intent, and with an oath to violate My lady's honor. What happened to him after I do not know.
Your Majesty, now I can tell you the truth. Cloten—your son—when your daughter disappeared, he came after me with his sword drawn, threatening to kill me if I didn't tell him where she went. I had a letter on me—a fake one—supposedly from my master, pointing toward Milford-Haven in the mountains. Cloten took my master's clothes, dressed in them, and rushed off intending to find her and assault her. I don't know what happened to him after that.
cloten came after me sword drawn killed me if i didnt tell i had fake letter said milford haven he took masters clothes went to find her intended violence no clue what happened
Let me end the story:
I slew him there.
Let me finish the story: I killed him there.
I'll finish it. I killed him there.
i killed him
Marry, the gods forfend!
I would not thy good deeds should from my lips
Pluck a hard sentence. Prithee, valiant youth,
Deny’t again.
By the gods, never! I would not want your good actions to pull A harsh sentence from my lips. I beg you, brave youth, Deny it again.
No—by the gods, no! Don't let your good actions force me to punish you. Please, brave young man, take it back.
no gods forbid your good acts dont let them condemn you please take it back
I have spoke it, and I did it.
I have said it, and I did it.
I said it and I mean it. I did it.
i said it i did it
He was a prince.
By birth, he held a prince's rank.
He was royalty—a prince of the realm.
he was born royal
A most incivil one. The wrongs he did me
Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me
With language that would make me spurn the sea,
If it could so roar to me. I cut off’s head,
And am right glad he is not standing here
To tell this tale of mine.
A prince without manners. The wrongs he did me Were not princely; because he angered me With words that would make me attack the sea, If the sea could roar back at me. I cut off his head, And I am very glad he is not standing here now To tell his own version of this story.
A prince in title only. He treated me badly—nothing princely about it. He said things so insulting I wanted to fight the ocean itself. I cut off his head, and I'm glad he can't tell his story about what happened here.
prince in name only treated me badly said insulting things cut off his head glad he cant talk
I am sorry for thee.
By thine own tongue thou art condemn’d, and must
Endure our law. Thou’rt dead.
I'm sorry for you. By your own words you've condemned yourself, and you must accept our law. You're dead.
I feel bad for you. You've basically executed yourself with your own confession—we have to follow our laws here. That's it for you.
sry for u but ur own words killed u laws are laws u're done
That headless man
I thought had been my lord.
That headless man—I thought that was my husband.
I thought that headless body was my husband.
thought that was my husband the one w no head
At the moral center of 5.5 are three acts of forgiveness, each more surprising than the last. Cymbeline forgives Belarius — who stole his sons for twenty years, but raised them into the men who saved Britain. Posthumus forgives Iachimo — who ruined his marriage, nearly destroyed his wife, and drove him to order her murder. And Cymbeline extends pardon to the Roman prisoners even in victory. Each forgiveness costs something real: Cymbeline must accept that the 'traitor' gave his sons a better upbringing than a court could have; Posthumus must live with the knowledge that his own credulity was half the problem. Shakespeare doesn't let forgiveness come easy or feel cheap. Posthumus's 'Live, and deal with others better' is only seven words — but they're seven words from someone who had to decide, in the moment, not to take the revenge he'd earned. The play's final word is 'peace.' That's the argument.
Bind the offender,
And take him from our presence.
Bind up the offender and take him away from us.
Get him tied up and out of my sight.
bind him take him away from me
Stay, sir King.
This man is better than the man he slew,
As well descended as thyself, and hath
More of thee merited than a band of Clotens
Had ever scar for. [_To the guard._] Let his arms alone;
They were not born for bondage.
Hold on, Your Majesty. This man is better than the man he killed—he's as well born as you are, and he's earned more of your favor than any number of Clotens ever would have through their scars. [To the guard.] Leave his arms alone; they weren't made for chains.
Wait a minute, Your Highness. This guy is actually way better than the person he killed. He's got just as good a background as you do, and he deserves way more credit than all those Clotens would have earned from getting beaten up. Let the man's arms go free—he wasn't born to be shackled.
hold up this guy's better than who he killed he's noble like u deserves better than chains
Why, old soldier,
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for
By tasting of our wrath? How of descent
As good as we?
Look here, old soldier. Are you going to waste all the good work and loyalty we owe you by facing my anger? How are you saying you're as good as us by birth?
Old man, are you really going to throw away all the respect you've earned by making me angry? What do you mean—you're as noble as me?
old soldier rly gonna risk my anger? how r u noble like me
In that he spake too far.
In that he went too far with what he said.
Yeah, he definitely overstepped.
he said too much
And thou shalt die for’t.
And you'll die for that.
And you're going to die for that.
u're dying for that
We will die all three;
But I will prove that two on’s are as good
As I have given out him. My sons, I must
For mine own part unfold a dangerous speech,
Though haply well for you.
All three of us will die, but I can prove that two of my sons are as noble as I've claimed this man to be. My sons, I must for my own part tell you something dangerous—though it might actually turn out well for you.
We'll all die for this, but I can show you that these two are just as good as I've always said this one is. My sons, listen—I've got to tell you something risky, but honestly it might work out okay for you.
we'll all die but i can prove my sons r noble gotta tell u smth risky might b good 4 u tho
Your danger’s ours.
Your danger’s ours.
your danger’s ours.
your danger’s ours....
And our good his.
And whatever's good for us is good for him.
And what's good for us is good for him.
what's good 4 us is good 4 him
Have at it then by leave!
Thou hadst, great King, a subject who
Was call’d Belarius.
Alright then, with your permission. You once had, great King, a subject who was called Belarius.
Okay, here goes—if I'm allowed. You used to have a servant named Belarius.
ok here goes u had a servant named belarius
What of him? He is
A banish’d traitor.
What about him? He's a banished traitor.
You mean that exile? The traitor?
what abt him? he's a banished traitor
He it is that hath
Assum’d this age; indeed a banish’d man;
I know not how a traitor.
That's who has taken on this form; yes, a banished man, but I don't see how a traitor.
That's who I am now—a banished man, for sure, but I don't know how that makes me a traitor.
that's me banished yeah but a traitor? i don't get it
Take him hence,
The whole world shall not save him.
Take him away from here. Nobody in the world can save him.
Get him out of here. Nothing in this world can save him.
take him away nothing can save him
Not too hot.
First pay me for the nursing of thy sons,
And let it be confiscate all, so soon
As I have receiv’d it.
Not so fast. First pay me for raising your sons, and let it all be taken away right after I've received it.
Hold on, don't be hasty. First, pay me what I'm owed for raising your sons, then you can confiscate it all right back.
wait first pay me 4 raising ur sons then take it all back if u want
Nursing of my sons?
Raising my sons?
You raised my sons?
u raised my sons?
I am too blunt and saucy: here’s my knee.
Ere I arise I will prefer my sons;
Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir,
These two young gentlemen that call me father,
And think they are my sons, are none of mine;
They are the issue of your loins, my liege,
And blood of your begetting.
I'm too blunt and rude, and I apologize—here's my knee. Before I get up I'll present my sons, and then spare nothing to punish the old father. Mighty sir, these two young men who call me father and think I'm their father—they're not mine. They are your children, my king, born of your body.
I'm too harsh and disrespectful, sorry. Let me kneel here. I'll introduce my sons before you judge me, and then do whatever you want to me. Your Majesty, these two young men who call me father—they actually aren't mine. They're your sons, born from you.
sry i'm rude i'm kneeling introduce my sons then punish me but they're ur sons born of u not me
How? my issue?
What? My children?
My children? What?
my children?
So sure as you your father’s. I, old Morgan,
Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish’d.
Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment
Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer’d
Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes
(For such and so they are) these twenty years
Have I train’d up; those arts they have as I
Could put into them. My breeding was, sir, as
Your Highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children
Upon my banishment; I mov’d her to’t,
Having receiv’d 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 shap’d
Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,
Here are your sons again, and I must lose
Two of the sweet’st 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.
As sure as you're your father's son. I'm Morgan—the Belarius you exiled years ago. The only reason you kicked me out was political, and that became my whole punishment. And what you're calling treason was just me trying to survive it. I've spent these twenty years raising these two noble boys, teaching them everything I know. My upbringing was as good as yours—you know that. Their nurse, Euriphile, married me, and she's the one who grabbed the kids when I got banished. I encouraged her to do it, since I'd already been beaten for my earlier loyalty. Your loss of them hurt you worse as the years went by, which is what made me hang onto them so tight. But here they are back with you now, and I'm going to lose the two best companions I've ever had. I hope heaven's blessings rain down on them like dew, because they're good enough to be stars.
As sure as you're your father's son. I'm Morgan—the Belarius you exiled years ago. Your decision to banish me was my only offense, and that became my whole punishment. What you're calling treason was just what I suffered from it. I've spent twenty years raising these two noble princes, teaching them everything I could. My background was as good as yours—you know that. Their nurse Euriphile, who I married, grabbed them when I was banished. I pushed her to do it after I'd already been beaten for my loyalty to you. Losing your sons hurt you more as time went on, which is what drove me to keep them. But here they are back with you, and I have to give up the two best people I've ever known. May heaven bless them like rain on their heads—they deserve to be stars.
i'm belarius u banished me that was my whole crime i raised ur sons 20 yrs they're amazing heaven bless them literally stars
Thou weep’st and speak’st.
The service that you three have done is more
Unlike than this thou tell’st. I lost my children.
If these be they, I know not how to wish
A pair of worthier sons.
You're crying and talking. The service that you three have done is more amazing than what you're telling me. I lost my children. If these are them, I couldn't ask for better sons.
You're getting emotional and rambling. What you three have done means more to me than you're saying. I lost my kids. If these are my sons, I couldn't want better ones.
ur crying telling me this what u three did is amazing i lost my kids if these r them i can't ask 4 better sons
Be pleas’d awhile.
This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius;
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,
Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp’d
In a most curious mantle, wrought by th’ hand
Of his queen mother, which for more probation
I can with ease produce.
Be patient a moment. This man, whom I've called Polydore, most worthy prince like yourself, is truly Guiderius. This man, my Cadwal, is Arviragus, your younger royal son. He, sir, was wrapped in a very beautiful cloak made by the hand of his queen mother, which I can easily show you as proof.
Just wait a second. This guy I called Polydore is actually your real son Guiderius—he's as noble as they come. And this one, my Cadwal, is Arviragus, your younger son. When he was a baby, he was wrapped up in this gorgeous cloak that his mother the queen made herself. I can show it to you right now as proof.
wait polydore is guiderius your son this is arviragus ur younger son wrapped in a cloak his mom made can show u it
Guiderius had
Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;
It was a mark of wonder.
Guiderius had a mole on his neck, a red birthmark. It was a distinctive mark.
Guiderius had this red birthmark on his neck—really noticeable.
guiderius had a red mark on his neck rly distinctive
This is he,
Who hath upon him still that natural stamp.
It was wise nature’s end in the donation,
To be his evidence now.
This is him—he still has that natural mark on him. Nature put it there on purpose, as proof to identify him.
That's him—he's still got that birthmark. Nature put it there on purpose to help us recognize him.
this is him still has the mark nature made it 4 proof
O, what am I?
A mother to the birth of three? Ne’er mother
Rejoic’d deliverance more. Blest pray you be,
That, after this strange starting from your orbs,
You may reign in them now! O Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.
What does this make me? A mother to the birth of three? No mother ever rejoiced more at giving birth. Be blessed—may you, having come back from this strange place, now reign in your rightful positions! Imogen, you've lost a kingdom by this.
What am I now? Have I given birth to three? I've never been happier at giving birth to anyone. Be blessed—may you come back and take your place where you belong! Imogen, this cost you a kingdom.
what am i? mom to three now? so happy u lost ur kingdom 4 this imogen
No, my lord;
I have got two worlds by’t. O my gentle brothers,
Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter
But I am truest speaker! You call’d me brother,
When I was but your sister: I you brothers,
When we were so indeed.
No, my lord. I've gained two worlds by this. Oh, my kind brothers, is this how we're meeting again? Never say from now on that I'm not telling the truth! You called me brother when I was just your sister, and I called you brothers when we actually were—that's how little we knew.
No way, my lord. I gained two whole worlds from this. Oh my brothers, so this is how we're meeting again? Don't ever say I'm lying about anything after this! You called me brother when I was your sister, and I called you brothers when you actually were my brothers—it's wild how mixed up we all were.
nah i got two worlds brothers omg met like this dont say i'm lying u called me brother when i was sister
Did you e’er meet?
Did you ever meet before?
Have you two met before?
u met before?
Ay, my good lord.
Yes, my lord.
Yes, sir.
yeah
And at first meeting lov’d,
Continu’d so until we thought he died.
And loved each other from the first meeting, and kept loving until we thought he died.
And we loved each other right away, never stopped until we thought the person died.
loved her from the start kept it going til we thought she died
By the Queen’s dram she swallow’d.
Because of the dose the Queen swallowed.
Because of what the Queen drank.
from what the queen drank
O rare instinct!
When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgement
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which
Distinction should be rich in. Where? how liv’d you?
And when came you to serve our Roman captive?
How parted with your brothers? how first met them?
Why fled you from the court? and whither? These,
And your three motives to the battle, with
I know not how much more, should be demanded,
And all the other by-dependances,
From chance to chance; but nor the 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, her master, hitting
Each object with a joy; the counterchange
Is severally in all. Let’s quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.
[_To Belarius._] Thou art my brother; so we’ll hold thee ever.
I wish I could hear the complete story! This brief account has so many details and circumstances that deserve to be told in full. Where did you live? How did you come to serve our Roman captive? How did you part from your brothers? How did you first meet them? Why did you flee the court and to where? All these questions, plus your three reasons for fighting in the battle, plus countless other things, should all be asked in detail. But the time and place don't allow for this long interrogation. Look, Posthumus is holding onto Imogen, and she, like harmless lightning, throws her eyes on him, her brothers, me, and her master - bringing joy to each person. Everyone feels equally joyful in return. Let's leave here and fill the temple with our sacrifices. You are my brother, and we'll always think of you that way.
Man, I wish I could hear the whole story! This quick version has so many details that really should be told in full. Where did you live? How did you end up serving that Roman prisoner? How did you separate from your brothers? How did you first meet them? Why did you escape the court and where to? All those questions, plus why you three fought in the battle, and everything else - all should be asked in detail. But honestly, we don't have the time for it right now. Look at Posthumus - he's holding onto Imogen like his life depends on it, and she's like lightning bouncing between him, her brothers, me, and even her master - making every single person happy. Everyone's feeling that same joy back. Let's get out of here and go make sacrifices at the temple. From now on, you're my brother, got it?
wish i could hear it all so many details how u lived why u fled no time for questions now look posthumus and imogen she's making everyone happy let's go sacrifice u're my brother now
You are my father too, and did relieve me
To see this gracious season.
You're my father too, and you relieved me by letting me see this wonderful time.
You're my father as well, and you made me so happy by letting me see this moment.
ur my dad 2 made me happy 2 c this
All o’erjoy’d
Save these in bonds. Let them be joyful too,
For they shall taste our comfort.
Everyone is overjoyed except those in chains. Let them be happy too, because they'll share in our good fortune.
Everyone's thrilled except the prisoners. They should be happy too—they'll get to enjoy our celebration.
everyone's happy except the prisoners let them b happy 2 they'll share our joy
My good master,
I will yet do you service.
My lord, I will still serve you.
My lord, I'll keep serving you.
i'll keep serving u
Happy be you!
May you be happy!
I wish you all happiness!
congrats!
The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought,
He would have well becom’d this place and grac’d
The thankings of a king.
The lonely soldier who fought so nobly would have been a perfect fit here and brought honor to the thanks of a king.
That sad soldier who fought so well—he'd have been perfect here and he deserved the thanks of a king.
that lonely soldier fought so well deserved a king's thanks
I am, sir,
The soldier that did company these three
In poor beseeming; ’twas a fitment for
The purpose I then follow’d. That I was he,
Speak, Iachimo. I had you down, and might
Have made you finish.
I am, sir, the soldier who stayed with these three—looking rough was appropriate for what I was doing. Iachimo can confirm I'm the one. I had you beaten down, and I could have finished you off.
That's me, sir. I'm the soldier who hung around with these three, dressed all rough—it was the right look for what I was up to. Iachimo can tell you it was me. I had you down on the ground, and I could have ended you.
that's me the rough soldier with these three had u beaten could've killed u
[_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
That ever swore her faith.
I'm on my knees again. Now my guilty conscience makes me kneel, just as your force did before. Take my life, I beg you - I owe you that many times over. But first, take back your ring. And here is the bracelet of the truest princess who ever swore her faith.
I'm on my knees again. This time my guilty conscience is forcing me down, not your fists. Take my life, please - I owe you that a thousand times. But first, take back your ring. And here's the bracelet of the most faithful princess who ever lived.
im on my knees my conscience makes me my guilt won't let me stand take my life i owe u take ur ring here's her bracelet
Kneel not to me.
The pow’r that I have on you is to spare you;
The malice towards you to forgive you. Live,
And deal with others better.
Don't kneel to me. The power I have over you is to let you live. My hatred toward you is to forgive you. Live, and treat others better.
Don't kneel. What I'm going to do with my power is let you live. Instead of hating you, I'm forgiving you. Live, and be better to people.
don't kneel i'm sparing u forgive u not hating u live better
Nobly doom’d!
We’ll learn our freeness of a son-in-law;
Pardon’s the word to all.
Nobly decided! We'll learn forgiveness from a son-in-law. Pardon is the rule for everyone.
That's a noble decision! I'll learn what it means to be merciful from a son-in-law. Forgiveness for everyone.
noble decision pardon 4 all
You holp us, sir,
As you did mean indeed to be our brother;
Joy’d are we that you are.
You helped us, sir, just as you meant to be our brother. We're happy that you are our brother.
You helped us out, and you meant it like a real brother. We're glad you are.
u helped us like a brother glad u r
Your servant, Princes. Good my lord of Rome,
Call forth your soothsayer. As I slept, methought
Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back’d,
Appear’d to me, with other spritely shows
Of mine own kindred. When I wak’d, I found
This label on my bosom; whose containing
Is so from sense in hardness that I can
Make no collection of it. Let him show
His skill in the construction.
Your servants, Princes. Good Lucius, call out your soothsayer. As I slept, I thought I saw the great Jupiter, riding on his eagle, appear to me with other ghostly visions of my own family. When I woke up, I found this note on my chest. The words in it are so hard to understand that I can't figure out what it means. Let him show his skill in reading it.
I serve you, Princes. Lucius, have your soothsayer come here. I had this dream where Jupiter himself rode up on an eagle and showed me visions of my family. When I woke up, I found this weird tablet on my chest that I can't make sense of. Let him show what he can do with it.
i serve u princes lucius call ur soothsayer had a dream bout jupiter found this tablet can't read it
Philarmonus!
Philarmonus!
philarmonus!
philarmonus!...
Here, my good lord.
I'm here, my lord.
I'm here, sir.
here
Read, and declare the meaning.
Read it and tell us what it means.
Read it and tell me what it says.
read it
[_Reads._] _When as a lion’s whelp shall, to himself unknown, without
seeking find, and be embrac’d by a piece of tender air; and when from a
stately cedar shall be lopp’d branches which, being dead many years,
shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then
shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in
peace and plenty._
Thou, Leonatus, art the lion’s whelp;
The fit and apt construction of thy name,
Being Leo-natus, doth import so much.
When a young lion, unknown to himself, finds and is embraced by tender air, and when branches cut from a mighty cedar, dead for many years, revive and rejoin their old trunk to grow fresh - then Posthumus will end his suffering, and Britain will be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty. You, Leonatus, are the lion's whelp. The proper and fitting interpretation of your name - being Leo-natus, which means lion-born - confirms this.
When a young lion finds and gets embraced by a gentle breeze without knowing how, and when branches cut from an old cedar that have been dead for years come back to life and grow fresh again - that's when you'll stop suffering and Britain will be peaceful and prosperous. You, Leonatus, are that young lion. Your name itself - Leo-natus, lion-born - proves it perfectly.
young lion finds gentle breeze dead cedar branches come back peace and plenty yu're the lion leonatus leo = lion natus = born
[_To Cymbeline_] The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,
Which we call _mollis aer_, and _mollis aer_
We term it _mulier_; which _mulier_ I divine
Is this most constant wife, who even now
Answering the letter of the oracle,
Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp’d about
With this most tender air.
The tender air is your virtuous daughter. We call soft air 'mollis aer' in Latin, and 'mollis aer' becomes 'mulier,' which means woman. I divine that this constant, faithful wife is that tender air. She has now been embraced by the lion's whelp, fulfilling the prophecy perfectly, unknown to you and unsought by her.
That tender air is your virtuous daughter. The Latin phrase 'mollis aer' means soft air, and it sounds like 'mulier,' which means woman. This faithful wife is that tender air I was talking about. She's now been embraced by the lion without either of them planning it, making the prophecy come true.
tender air = ur daughter mollis aer = soft air sounds like mulier = woman this faithful wife is the air she's been embraced by the lion prophecy done
This hath some seeming.
This makes some sense.
That sounds possible.
sounds right
The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,
Personates thee; and thy lopp’d branches point
Thy two sons forth, who, by Belarius stol’n,
For many years thought dead, are now reviv’d,
To the majestic cedar join’d, whose issue
Promises Britain peace and plenty.
The tall cedar, royal Cymbeline, represents you. Your cut-off branches mean your two sons, who were stolen by Belarius, thought dead for many years, and are now alive again, rejoined to the great cedar. They promise Britain peace and plenty.
The tall cedar is you, King Cymbeline. The branches that were cut off are your two sons—the ones Belarius stole and everyone thought were dead all this time. Now they're back with you, and they bring peace and good fortune to Britain.
cedar is u cut branches r ur sons belarius stole them thought dead now back brings peace 2 britain
Well,
My peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius,
Although the victor, we submit to Cæsar
And to the Roman empire, promising
To pay our wonted tribute, from the which
We were dissuaded by our wicked queen,
Whom heavens in justice, both on her and hers,
Have laid most heavy hand.
Alright, we'll start our peace. And Caius Lucius, even though you won, we're going to submit to Caesar and the Roman empire, and we'll pay the taxes we've been skipping. Our wicked queen talked us out of paying them, but heaven has justly punished her and her family.
Okay, let's make peace. Caius Lucius, you won, but we're going to accept Caesar and Rome, and we'll start paying the tribute again. Our evil queen convinced us not to, but heaven has already taken care of her and her whole family.
peace time u won lucius we'll submit 2 caesar pay tribute again queen talked us out of it heaven punished her
The fingers of the pow’rs above do tune
The harmony of this peace. The vision
Which I made known to Lucius ere the stroke
Of yet this scarce-cold battle, at this instant
Is full accomplish’d; for the Roman eagle,
From south to west on wing soaring aloft,
Lessen’d herself and in the beams o’ th’ sun
So vanish’d; which foreshow’d our princely eagle,
Th’ imperial Cæsar, should again unite
His favour with the radiant Cymbeline,
Which shines here in the west.
The powers above are making the peace happen. The vision I showed Lucius before this barely-finished battle is now completely coming true. The Roman eagle flew from south to west and got smaller and smaller in the sun's light until it disappeared. This meant that your noble eagle, the emperor Caesar, would make peace again with the bright Cymbeline, who shines here in the west.
The gods are making this peace happen. The vision I told Lucius about before the battle just ended is working out perfectly. The Roman eagle flew across the sky and just faded away in the sunlight. That meant Caesar, your great emperor, would make friends again with you, Cymbeline, who shine here in the west.
gods making peace vision i told lucius came true roman eagle faded ceasar reunites w cymbeline
Laud we the gods;
And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils
From our bless’d altars. Publish we this peace
To all our subjects. Set we forward; let
A Roman and a British ensign wave
Friendly together. So through Lud’s Town march;
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 wash’d, with such a peace.
Let's praise the gods and let our blessed smoke rise up to their noses from our holy altars. Let's announce this peace to all our people. Let's move forward now. Let a Roman flag and a British flag wave together in friendship. March through Lud's Town this way. And in the temple of great Jupiter we'll confirm our peace, seal it with celebrations. Go! Never has a war ended with such peace before the blood was even washed off.
Let's give thanks to the gods and send our prayers up from these altars. Let everyone know about this peace. Let's go forward with both the Roman and British banners flying together. March through Lud's Town. We'll make it official in Jupiter's temple and celebrate with feasts. Go! There's never been a war that ended this peacefully before the blood was even washed off.
praise the gods smoke from altars announce peace roman and british flags together go 2 jupiter's temple celebrate war never ended like this
The Reckoning
This is Shakespeare's most elaborately engineered recognition scene — twenty separate revelations cascade across 450 lines, each one detonating another. The audience watches characters stumble toward truths the play has been withholding for five acts, and the cumulative effect is something close to joy made painful by its own excess. What lingers is not any single reunion but the sheer improbability of everyone being restored — and the unsettling question of how close all of them came to being lost forever.
If this happened today…
A family mediation session that somehow also includes the HR director, the CEO, two long-lost sons raised off-grid, a con artist investor confessing to fraud, and a corporate lawyer confirming the deceased CFO had been slowly poisoning the board chair. Someone faints. Someone gets punched by accident. The punch victim turns out to be the CEO's daughter. By the end, everyone has forgiven everyone, a war has been settled, and they're ordering pizza.