Original Text |
Translated Text |
| Source: Folger Shakespeare Library |
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Enter Cloten and Lords. FIRST LORD Your Lordship is the most patient man in
loss, the most coldest that ever turned up ace. CLOTEN It would make any man cold to lose. FIRST LORD But not every man patient after the noble
temper of your Lordship. You are most hot and 5
furious when you win. CLOTEN Winning will put any man into courage. If I
could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold
enough. It’s almost morning, is ’t not? FIRST LORD Day, my lord. 10 CLOTEN I would this music would come. I am advised
to give her music a-mornings; they say it will
penetrate. Enter Musicians. Come on, tune. If you can penetrate her with your
fingering, so. We’ll try with tongue, too. If none 15
will do, let her remain, but I’ll never give o’er. First,
a very excellent good-conceited thing; after, a wonderful
sweet air, with admirable rich words to it,
and then let her consider. Musicians begin to play.
Song. Hark, hark, the lark at heaven’s gate sings, 20
And Phoebus gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes. 25
With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise,
Arise, arise. CLOTEN So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will
consider your music the better. If it do not, it is a 30
vice in her ears which horsehairs and calves’
guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can
never amend. Musicians exit. | Cloten figures that the way to a lady's heart is through music. So he orders musicians to serenade Imogen as she wakes. |
Enter Cymbeline and Queen, with Attendants. SECOND LORD Here comes the King. CLOTEN I am glad I was up so late, for that’s the reason 35
I was up so early. He cannot choose but take this
service I have done fatherly.—Good morrow to
your Majesty and to my gracious mother. CYMBELINE
Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?
Will she not forth? 40 CLOTEN I have assailed her with musics, but she
vouchsafes no notice. CYMBELINE
The exile of her minion is too new;
She hath not yet forgot him. Some more time
Must wear the print of his remembrance on ’t, 45
And then she’s yours. QUEEN, to Cloten You are most bound to th’ King,
Who lets go by no vantages that may
Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself
To orderly solicits and be friended 50
With aptness of the season. Make denials
Increase your services. So seem as if
You were inspired to do those duties which
You tender to her; that you in all obey her,
Save when command to your dismission tends, 55
And therein you are senseless. CLOTEN Senseless? Not so. | When that doesn't work, Cloten dismisses the musicians. Cymbeline and the Queen see this and tell him to keep it up: they really want this marriage to happen—despite the fact that, you know, Imogen is already married. |
Enter a Messenger. MESSENGER, to Cymbeline
So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome;
The one is Caius Lucius. Messenger exits. | In the middle of the conversation, a messenger enters with news that a man from Rome asks to see the king. |
CYMBELINE A worthy fellow, 60
Albeit he comes on angry purpose now.
But that’s no fault of his. We must receive him
According to the honor of his sender,
And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us,
We must extend our notice.—Our dear son, 65
When you have given good morning to your mistress,
Attend the Queen and us. We shall have need
T’ employ you towards this Roman.—Come, our
queen. Cymbeline and Queen exit, with
Lords and Attendants. | Cymbeline is worried because he knows the guy from Rome is angry, but he figures he should greet him.
|
CLOTEN
If she be up, I’ll speak with her; if not, 70
Let her lie still and dream. (He knocks.) By your
leave, ho!—
I know her women are about her. What
If I do line one of their hands? ’Tis gold
Which buys admittance—oft it doth—yea, and makes 75
Diana’s rangers false themselves, yield up
Their deer to th’ stand o’ th’ stealer; and ’tis gold
Which makes the true man killed and saves the thief,
Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man. What
Can it not do and undo? I will make 80
One of her women lawyer to me, for
I yet not understand the case myself.
By your leave. Knocks. Enter a Lady. LADY
Who’s there that knocks? CLOTEN A gentleman. 85 LADY No more? CLOTEN
Yes, and a gentlewoman’s son. LADY That’s more
Than some whose tailors are as dear as yours
Can justly boast of. What’s your Lordship’s pleasure? 90 CLOTEN
Your lady’s person. Is she ready? LADY Ay,
To keep her chamber. CLOTEN There is gold for you.
Sell me your good report. He offers a purse. 95 LADY
How, my good name? Or to report of you
What I shall think is good? | Cloten takes his mom and stepdad's advice to heart: he'll be persistent whether Imogen likes him or not.
Cloten knocks on Imogen's door, and one of her ladies in waiting answers. Ever the klutz, Cloten tries to bribe the lady for the gossip on Imogen. He's kidding himself. |
Enter Imogen. The Princess.
Lady exits. CLOTEN
Good morrow, fairest sister. Your sweet hand. IMOGEN
Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains 100
For purchasing but trouble. The thanks I give
Is telling you that I am poor of thanks
And scarce can spare them. CLOTEN Still I swear I love you. IMOGEN
If you but said so, ’twere as deep with me. 105
If you swear still, your recompense is still
That I regard it not. CLOTEN This is no answer. IMOGEN
But that you shall not say I yield being silent,
I would not speak. I pray you, spare me. Faith, 110
I shall unfold equal discourtesy
To your best kindness. One of your great knowing
Should learn, being taught, forbearance. CLOTEN
To leave you in your madness ’twere my sin.
I will not. 115 IMOGEN
Fools are not mad folks. CLOTEN Do you call me fool? IMOGEN As I am mad, I do.
If you’ll be patient, I’ll no more be mad.
That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, 120
You put me to forget a lady’s manners
By being so verbal; and learn now for all
That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce,
By th’ very truth of it, I care not for you,
And am so near the lack of charity 125
To accuse myself I hate you—which I had rather
You felt than make ’t my boast. CLOTEN You sin against
Obedience, which you owe your father. For
The contract you pretend with that base wretch— 130
One bred of alms and fostered with cold dishes,
With scraps o’ th’ court—it is no contract, none;
And though it be allowed in meaner parties—
Yet who than he more mean?—to knit their souls,
On whom there is no more dependency 135
But brats and beggary, in self-figured knot;
Yet you are curbed from that enlargement by
The consequence o’ th’ crown, and must not foil
The precious note of it with a base slave,
A hilding for a livery, a squire’s cloth, 140
A pantler—not so eminent. | None of this works, of course. Imogen comes out while Cloten's making a fool of himself trying to give the lady gold.
Imogen is cold toward Cloten and calls him a fool. Cloten retorts by saying that she's disobeying her father by marrying someone other than him. |
IMOGEN Profane fellow,
Wert thou the son of Jupiter and no more
But what thou art besides, thou wert too base
To be his groom. Thou wert dignified enough, 145
Even to the point of envy, if ’twere made
Comparative for your virtues to be styled
The under-hangman of his kingdom and hated
For being preferred so well. CLOTEN The south fog rot him! 150 IMOGEN
He never can meet more mischance than come
To be but named of thee. His mean’st garment
That ever hath but clipped his body is dearer
In my respect than all the hairs above thee,
Were they all made such men.—How now, Pisanio! 155 | Imogen tells Cloten he's too "base" (translation: unworthy) to be even Posthumus's servant. Then she tells him that even Posthumus's cheapest clothes ("meanest garment") are more valuable to her than Cloten. It's on. |
Enter Pisanio. CLOTEN “His garment”? Now the devil— IMOGEN, to Pisanio
To Dorothy, my woman, hie thee presently. CLOTEN
“His garment”? IMOGEN, to Pisanio I am sprighted with a fool,
Frighted and angered worse. Go bid my woman 160
Search for a jewel that too casually
Hath left mine arm. It was thy master’s. Shrew me
If I would lose it for a revenue
Of any king’s in Europe. I do think
I saw ’t this morning. Confident I am 165
Last night ’twas on mine arm; I kissed it.
I hope it be not gone to tell my lord
That I kiss aught but he. PISANIO ’Twill not be lost. IMOGEN
I hope so. Go and search. Pisanio exits. 170 CLOTEN You have abused me.
“His meanest garment”? IMOGEN Ay, I said so, sir.
If you will make ’t an action, call witness to ’t. CLOTEN
I will inform your father. 175 IMOGEN Your mother too.
She’s my good lady and will conceive, I hope,
But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir,
To th’ worst of discontent. She exits. CLOTEN
I’ll be revenged! “His mean’st garment”? Well. 180
He exits. | Cloten is furious and vows to take vengeance on Posthumus. He's so shocked that he keeps muttering stuff about Posthumus's "garment." But Imogen doesn't really care. During the insult slewing, Pisanio came in, and now Imogen orders him to find her precious bracelet. Imogen remembers that the bracelet was on her arm, and she kissed it. It's gone now, though, and she's really worried about it. They all exit: Pisanio and Imogen to find the bracelet, and Cloten to yell about how he's gonna get revenge on Imogen for dissing him. |