Original: Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is the way?
Modern: Yes, sir, I’m going to Milford-Haven; which way should I go?

Original: I thank you. By yond bush? Pray, how far thither?
Modern: Thank you. Past that bush over there? Please tell me, how far is it?

Original: ‘Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet?
Modern: Oh my goodness! Can it really still be six miles away?

Original: I have gone all night: Faith, I’ll lie down and sleep.
Modern: I’ve been walking all night long. Honestly, I need to lie down and sleep.

Original: But, soft! no bed-fellow! O gods and goddesses!
Modern: Wait! I don’t want to sleep next to anyone! Oh gods and goddesses!

Original: These flowers are like the pleasures of the world;
Modern: These flowers are like the joys and pleasures of life;

Original: This bloody man, the care on ‘t. I hope I dream;
Modern: This bloody man represents the pain and sorrow of life. I hope I’m dreaming;

Original: For so I thought I was a cave-keeper,
Modern: Because just now I thought I was someone who kept a cave,

Original: And cook to honest creatures; but ‘tis not so,
Modern: And cooked for good people; but that’s not true,

Original: ‘Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
Modern: It was just a meaningless arrow shot at nothing,

Original: Which the brain makes of fumes. Our very eyes
Modern: Which the brain creates from vapors and confusion. Even our eyes

Original: Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith,
Modern: Are sometimes like our ability to judge—blind. I swear,

Original: I tremble still with fear; but if there be
Modern: I’m still trembling with fear; but if there is

Original: Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
Modern: Even the tiniest bit of pity left in heaven

Original: As a wren’s eye, fear’d gods, a part of it!
Modern: As small as a tiny bird’s eye, merciful gods, give me some of it!

Original: The dream’s here still; even when I wake, it is
Modern: The nightmare is still here; even though I’m awake, it is

Original: Without me, as within me; not imagin’d, felt.
Modern: Outside of me as well as inside me; not imagined, but actually felt.

Original: A headless man! The garments of Posthumus!
Modern: A man without a head! Wearing Posthumus’s clothes!

Original: I know the shape of ‘s leg, this is his hand,
Modern: I recognize the shape of his leg, this is his hand,

Original: His foot Mercurial, his Martial thigh,
Modern: His swift foot like the god Mercury, his warrior-strong thigh like Mars,

Original: The brawns of Hercules, but his Jovial face.
Modern: The muscles of Hercules, and his noble, kingly face like Jupiter.

Original: Murder in heaven? How! ‘Tis gone. Pisanio,
Modern: Has there been a murder in heaven? How can this be! His head is gone. Pisanio,

Original: All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks,
Modern: All the curses that the mad, grief-stricken Queen Hecuba gave the Greeks,

Original: And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou,
Modern: Plus all of my own curses too, may they strike you down! You,

Original: Conspir’d with that irregulous devil, Cloten,
Modern: Who conspired with that lawless devil, Cloten,

Original: Hast here cut off my lord. To write and read
Modern: Have murdered my husband here. May writing and reading

Original: Be henceforth treacherous! Damn’d Pisanio
Modern: Be considered treacherous from now on! Damned Pisanio

Original: Hath with his forged letters, damn’d Pisanio,
Modern: Has with his fake letters, damned Pisanio,

Original: From this most bravest vessel of the world
Modern: From this noblest and bravest man in the world

Original: Struck the main-top! O Posthumus! alas!
Modern: Cut off the head! Oh Posthumus! This is terrible!

Original: Where is thy head? where’s that? Ay me! where’s that?
Modern: Where is your head? Where is it? Oh no! Where is it?

Original: Pisanio might have kill’d thee at the heart,
Modern: Pisanio could have killed you by stabbing you in the heart,

Original: And left this head on. How should this be? Pisanio?
Modern: And left your head attached. How can this be? Pisanio did this?

Original: ‘Tis he and Cloten; malice and lucre in them
Modern: It was him and Cloten; evil and greed drove them

Original: Have laid this woe here. O! ‘tis pregnant, pregnant!
Modern: To cause this misery. Oh! It’s so obvious, so clear!

Original: The drug he gave me, which he said was precious
Modern: The drug he gave me, which he claimed was valuable

Original: And cordial to me, have I not found it
Modern: And good for my heart, haven’t I discovered it was

Original: Murderous to the senses? That confirms it home;
Modern: Deadly to my senses? That proves it completely;

Original: This is Pisanio’s deed, and Cloten’s: O!
Modern: This is Pisanio’s crime, along with Cloten’s. Oh!

Original: Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood,
Modern: Let me put your blood on my pale cheek for color,

Original: That we the horrider may seem to those
Modern: So that we will look even more horrible to anyone

Original: Which chance to find us. O! my lord, my lord.
Modern: Who happens to find us. Oh! My lord, my lord.

In Act IV, Scene 2 of Cymbeline, Imogen awakens beside what she believes to be Posthumus’s headless corpse, which is actually Cloten’s body dressed in Posthumus’s clothes. Overwhelmed with grief, she mourns over the body, lamenting the loss of her beloved husband and expressing her despair at finding him murdered. She covers the body with flowers and speaks tenderly to what she believes are Posthumus’s remains, kissing his hands and grieving deeply for their lost future together.

Lucius, a Roman general, arrives with his soldiers and discovers Imogen mourning over the corpse. Taking pity on the seemingly young man (Imogen is still disguised as Fidele), Lucius questions her about her circumstances. Imogen explains that the dead man was her master, killed by mountaineers, and that she is now alone and without protection. Moved by her apparent loyalty and youth, Lucius offers to take her into his service as a page. Imogen gratefully accepts his offer, and they depart together with Lucius’s forces, leaving Cloten’s body behind.

Cymbeline tells the story of King Cymbeline of Britain, whose daughter Imogen secretly marries Posthumus Leonatus against her father’s wishes. Cymbeline banishes Posthumus to Rome, where he boasts of Imogen’s virtue and fidelity. The cunning Iachimo wagers that he can seduce Imogen and prove her unfaithful. When his direct attempts fail, Iachimo hides in a trunk in Imogen’s bedchamber, emerges while she sleeps, and steals her bracelet while noting intimate details of her body and room.

Returning to Rome with his false evidence, Iachimo convinces Posthumus that Imogen has been unfaithful. Enraged, Posthumus orders his servant Pisanio to kill Imogen. Instead, Pisanio reveals the plot to Imogen and helps her escape by disguising her as a young man named Fidele. She flees to the Welsh mountains, where she unknowingly encounters her long-lost brothers, Guiderius and Arviragus, who were kidnapped as infants and raised by the banished lord Belarius.

Meanwhile, Cymbeline’s evil Queen (Imogen’s stepmother) plots to poison Imogen and place her own son Cloten on the throne. Cloten pursues Imogen to Wales, where Guiderius kills him in combat. The Queen’s physician Cornelius has secretly given her a sleeping potion instead of poison, but when Imogen takes it believing it to be medicine, she falls into a death-like sleep beside Cloten’s headless corpse, whom she mistakes for Posthumus upon awakening.

The play culminates when Roman forces invade Britain. During the battle, the disguised Imogen serves the Romans while her unknown brothers and Belarius fight for Britain. After Britain’s victory, all deceptions are revealed: Iachimo confesses his lies, the Queen dies after admitting her evil plots, Imogen’s true identity and virtue are established, the royal brothers are restored to their father, and Posthumus and Imogen are reunited. Cymbeline makes peace with Rome and pardons all offenders.