|
Cymbeline
·V iv 5 ·
Verse
Posthumus Most welcome, bondage! for thou art away, think, to liberty: yet am I better Than one that's sick o' the gout; since he had rather Groan so in perpetuity than be cured By the sure physician, death, who is the key To unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fetter'd More than my shanks and wrists: you good gods, give me The penitent instrument to pick that bolt, Then, free for ever! Is't enough I am sorry? So children temporal fathers do appease; Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent? I cannot do it better than in gyves, Desired more than constrain'd: to satisfy, If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take No stricter render of me than my all. I know you are more clement than vile men, Who of their broken debtors take a third, A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again On their abatement: that's not my desire: For Imogen's dear life take mine; and though 'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it: 'Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp; Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake: You rather mine, being yours: and so, great powers, If you will take this audit, take this life, And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen! I'll speak to thee in silence. |
Original: Most welcome, bondage! for thou art away,
Modern: I welcome these chains! Because when you’re gone, I think I’ll be free.
Original: think, to liberty: yet am I better
Modern: Yet I’m actually better off than some people.
Original: Than one that’s sick o’ the gout; since he had rather
Modern: I’m better off than someone suffering from gout, since he would rather
Original: Groan so in perpetuity than be cured
Modern: keep groaning forever than be cured
Original: By the sure physician, death, who is the key
Modern: by the one certain doctor, death, who holds the key
Original: To unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fetter’d
Modern: to unlock these chains. My conscience, you are chained up
Original: More than my shanks and wrists: you good gods, give me
Modern: even more than my legs and wrists are: you good gods, give me
Original: The penitent instrument to pick that bolt,
Modern: the tool of repentance to unlock that lock,
Original: Then, free for ever! Is’t enough I am sorry?
Modern: and then I’ll be free forever! Is it enough that I’m sorry?
Original: So children temporal fathers do appease;
Modern: That’s how children make their earthly fathers forgive them;
Original: Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent?
Modern: Gods are even more merciful. Do I need to repent?
Original: I cannot do it better than in gyves,
Modern: I can’t do it any better than while wearing these chains,
Original: Desired more than constrain’d: to satisfy,
Modern: which I’ve chosen more than been forced into: to make things right,
Original: If of my freedom ‘tis the main part, take
Modern: if it’s the main requirement for my freedom, take
Original: No stricter render of me than my all.
Modern: nothing less from me than everything I have.
Original: I know you are more clement than vile men,
Modern: I know you are more merciful than cruel men,
Original: Who of their broken debtors take a third,
Modern: who take only a third from their bankrupt debtors,
Original: A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again
Modern: a sixth, a tenth, letting them prosper again
Original: On their abatement: that’s not my desire:
Modern: after their debt is reduced: but that’s not what I want:
Original: For Imogen’s dear life take mine; and though
Modern: Take my life in exchange for Imogen’s precious life; and even though
Original: ‘Tis not so dear, yet ‘tis a life; you coin’d it:
Modern: mine isn’t as valuable, it’s still a life; you created it:
Original: ‘Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp;
Modern: Between one man and another, people don’t weigh every coin;
Original: Though light, take pieces for the figure’s sake:
Modern: Even if it’s lightweight, accept coins for the image stamped on them:
Original: You rather mine, being yours: and so, great powers,
Modern: You should prefer mine, since it belongs to you: and so, great powers,
Original: If you will take this audit, take this life,
Modern: If you will accept this accounting, take this life,
Original: And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen!
Modern: and cancel these harsh debts. Oh Imogen!
Original: I’ll speak to thee in silence.
Modern: I’ll speak to you in silence.
In Act V, Scene 4 of “Cymbeline,” Posthumus Leonatus appears as a prisoner in chains, having been captured by the British forces. He has survived the battle and now welcomes death as punishment for what he believes is his role in Imogen’s murder. Alone in his cell, he expresses his desire to die and atone for his sins. As he sleeps, supernatural figures appear: the ghosts of his deceased family members—his father Sicilius Leonatus, his mother, and his two brothers—all killed before Posthumus was born or in his infancy. These spirits circle around the sleeping Posthumus and lament his suffering and misfortunes, pleading with Jupiter to show mercy to their wronged kinsman.
Jupiter, king of the gods, descends from the heavens seated on an eagle, accompanied by thunder and lightning. He rebukes the ghosts for questioning divine will and assures them that Posthumus’s fortunes will improve, declaring that he will be reunited with Imogen and find greater happiness than before his trials began. Jupiter places a tablet on Posthumus’s chest containing a cryptic prophecy about Britain’s future and Posthumus’s fate, then ascends back to the heavens with the appeased spirits. Posthumus awakens, discovers the mysterious tablet with its riddling verses, and marvels at his strange dream. When the jailer enters to summon him to his execution, Posthumus goes willingly, still seeking death as his release, unaware of the prophecy’s meaning or the restoration that awaits him.
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.