The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
Page 507
against you in Caesar's name; expect
a fury you cannot resist. Now I have defied you,
I give you my personal thanks.
CYMBELINE.
Thou art welcome, Caius.
Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent
Much under him; of him I gather'd honour,
Which he to seek of me again, perforce,
Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect
That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for
Their liberties are now in arms, a precedent
Which not to read would show the Britons cold;
So Caesar shall not find them.
You are welcome, Caius.
Your Caesar knighted me; I spent much of my youth
in his service; he gave me honour,
which, if he now tries to take back from me,
will make me fight to the last ditch. I know
that the Hungarians and Dalmatians are now
fighting for their freedom, which is a precedent
that the Britons would be cowardly not to follow;
Caesar will not find us to be cowards.
LUCIUS.
Let proof speak.
We'll see what happens.
CLOTEN.
His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a
day or
two, or longer. If you seek us afterwards in other terms, you
shall find us in our salt-water girdle. If you beat us out of
it,
it is yours; if you fall in the adventure, our crows shall
fare
the better for you; and there's an end.
His Majesty welcomes you. Enjoy your stay with us for a day or
two, or longer. If you come back looking for us on other terms,
you will find us in our island in the sea. If you can drive us out of it
it's yours; if you fail in your attempt, our crows will be
fatter from you; and that's the end of it.
LUCIUS.
So, sir.
Very well, sir.
CYMBELINE.
I know your master's pleasure, and he mine;
All the remain is, welcome.
Exeunt
I know your master's position, and he knows mine;
all that is left to say is, welcome.
Enter PISANIO reading of a letter
PISANIO.
How? of adultery? Wherefore write you not
What monsters her accuse? Leonatus!
O master, what a strange infection
Is fall'n into thy ear! What false Italian-
As poisonous-tongu'd as handed- hath prevail'd
On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal? No.
She's punish'd for her truth, and undergoes,
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults
As would take in some virtue. O my master!
Thy mind to her is now as low as were
Thy fortunes. How? that I should murder her?
Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I
Have made to thy command? I, her? Her blood?
If it be so to do good service, never
Let me be counted serviceable. How look I
That I should seem to lack humanity
So much as this fact comes to? [Reads] 'Do't. The letter
That I have sent her, by her own command
Shall give thee opportunity.' O damn'd paper,
Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble,
Art thou a fedary for this act, and look'st
So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes.
Enter IMOGEN
I am ignorant in what I am commanded.
What? Of adultery? Why don't you write
what monsters accuse her? Leonatus!
O master, what horrible poison
has dropped into your ear! What false Italian–
with as much poison on his tongue as on his hands–has won
over your far too gullible mind? Disloyal? No.
She is punished for her loyalty, and endures,
more like a goddess than a wife, assaults
that would overcome most virtue. Oh my master!
This way of thinking about how makes your mind
as low asyour fortune. What? You want me to murder her?
You're claiming the love, truth and vows, which I
have committed to you? Me and her? Her blood?
If this is what happens when you do good service
let me never be thought of as a good servant.
What is there in my looks that makes me seem so inhuman
that I would do this? [Reads] ‘Do it. The letter
that I have sent her means that she will
provide the opportunity herself.’ You damned letter,
as black as the ink that's on you! You worthless idiot,
or are you going to be an accomplice in this act, and keep looking
so innocent? Look, here she comes.
I must pretend I know nothing about these commands.
IMOGEN.
How now, Pisanio!
Hello there, Pisanio!
PISANIO.
Madam, here is a letter from my lord.
Madam, here's a letter from my lord.
IMOGEN.
Who? thy lord? That is my lord- Leonatus?
O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer
That knew the stars as I his characters-
He'd lay the future open. You good gods,
Let what is here contain'd relish of love,
Of my lord's health, of his content; yet not
That we two are asunder- let that grieve him!
Some griefs are med'cinable; that is one of them,
For it doth physic love- of his content,
All but in that. Good wax, thy leave. Blest be
You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers
And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike;
Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet
You clasp young Cupid's tables. Good news, gods!
[Reads]
'Justice and your father's wrath, should he take me in his
dominion, could not be so cruel to me as you, O the dearest
of
creatures, would even renew me with your eyes. Take notice
that I
am in Cambria, at Milford Haven. What your own love will out
of
this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all happiness that
remains loyal to his vow, and your increasing in love
LEONATUS POSTHUMUS.'
O for a horse with wings! Hear'st thou, Pisanio?
He is at Milford Haven. Read, and tell me
How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs
May plod it in a week, why may not I
Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio-
Who long'st like me to see thy lord, who long'st-
O, let me 'bate!- but not like me, yet long'st,
But in a fainter kind- O, not like me,
For mine's beyond beyond!-say, and speak thick-
Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing
To th' smothering of the sense- how far it is
To this same blessed Milford. And by th' way
Tell me how Wales was made so happy as
T' inherit such a haven. But first of all,
How we may steal from hence; and for the gap
That we shall make in time from our hence-going
And our return, to excuse. But first, how get hence.
Why should excuse be born or ere begot?
We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee speak,
How many score of miles may we well ride
'Twixt hour and hour?
Who? Your lord? The one who is my lord–Leonatus?
It would be a very clever astronomer
who could read the stars as well as I read his letters–<
br />
he'd predict the whole future. You good gods,
let the contents of this be full of love and tell
me that my lord is healthy and happy; though not
happy that we are apart–let that grieve him!
Some griefs are curable; that is one of them,
love is its medicine: let him be happy,
in everything but that.Good wax, let me break you.May the bees
which make these seals the be blessed! Lovers
and men threatened by legal documents don't pray for the same thing;
although when they break the seal they get thrown in prison,
you still hold the writings of Cupid. Good news, please gods!
[Reads]
‘The law and your father's anger, if he should catch me in his
kingdom, is nothing compared to how you, O dearest
of creatures, can lift me up with a look. Be informed that I
am in Wales, at Milford Haven. Whatever your love inspires
you to do, do that. So the one who remains loyal to his vow
wishes you all happiness, and assures you his love gets greater every day,
Leonatus Posthumus.’
Oh, I wish I had a winged horse! Did you hear, Pisanio?
He is at Milford Haven. Read this, and tell me
how far away it is. If a lowly person
can plod there in a week, why shouldn't I
fly there in a day? Then, true Pisanio–
who's longing to see your lord just like me, who longs–
O, let me change that!–Not like me,
for nobody could want to see him as much as me!–Tell me, and speak thick words–
for the words of love should fill the holes of hearing
and cover up the senses–how far it is
to this same blessed Milford. And by the way,
tell me how Wales was so lucky as
to have such a haven. But first of all,
tell me how we can escape from here; and
what excuse we shall use to cover up the gap in time between
outgoing and return. But first, tell me how to get there.
Why should we give an excuse before we've even done the deed?
We'll talk of that afterwards. Please speak,
how many miles can we cover
each hour?
PISANIO.
One score 'twixt sun and sun,
Madam, 's enough for you, and too much too.
Twenty miles between morning and evening,
Madam, is enough for you, and maybe too much.
IMOGEN.
Why, one that rode to's execution, man,
Could never go so slow. I have heard of riding wagers
Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
That run i' th' clock's behalf. But this is fool'ry.
Go bid my woman feign a sickness; say
She'll home to her father; and provide me presently
A riding suit, no costlier than would fit
A franklin's huswife.
Why, man, someone riding to his own execution
wouldn't go so slow. I have heard of riding bets
when the horses have run quicker than the sands
running through the timer. But we're messing about.
Go and tell my maid to pretend she is sick; say
she has to go home to her father; and get me quickly
a riding suit, no more ornate than one a
common woman would wear.
PISANIO.
Madam, you're best consider.
Madden, you'd better think about this.
IMOGEN.
I see before me, man. Nor here, nor here,
Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them
That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee;
Do as I bid thee. There's no more to say;
Accessible is none but Milford way.
Exeunt
I can see way ahead clearly, man. I can't see to the left, to the right
or behind, they are covered in a fog through which
I can't see. Get moving, please;
do as I ask you. There's nothing more to say;
the way to Milford is the only way for me to go.
Enter from the cave BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS
BELARIUS.
A goodly day not to keep house with such
Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys; this gate
Instructs you how t' adore the heavens, and bows you
To a morning's holy office. The gates of monarchs
Are arch'd so high that giants may jet through
And keep their impious turbans on without
Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven!
We house i' th' rock, yet use thee not so hardly
As prouder livers do.
It's a good day not to stay indoors when you've got
roofs as low as ours! Bend down, boys; this doorway
teaches you how to worship the heavens, making you bow
to the holy morning. The doorways of monarchs
are built so high that giants might strut through,
keeping their heathen turbans on, without
saying good morning to the sun. Greetings, fair heaven!
We live in the rock, but we are not so disrespectful of you
as much richer people.
GUIDERIUS.
Hail, heaven!
Greetings, heaven!
ARVIRAGUS.
Hail, heaven!
Greetings, heaven!
BELARIUS.
Now for our mountain sport. Up to yond hill,
Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Consider,
When you above perceive me like a crow,
That it is place which lessens and sets off;
And you may then revolve what tales I have told you
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war.
This service is not service so being done,
But being so allow'd. To apprehend thus
Draws us a profit from all things we see,
And often to our comfort shall we find
The sharded beetle in a safer hold
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life
Is nobler than attending for a check,
Richer than doing nothing for a bribe,
Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
Such gain the cap of him that makes him fine,
Yet keeps his book uncross'd. No life to ours!
Now for our mountain hunting. You go up that hill,
your legs are young; I'll walk on the flat. Think,
when you look down on me from above like a crow,
that you're in a place which makes things look smaller and better;
then you can think about the tales I've told you
of courts, of Princes, of the arts of war.
This is not a chore when you do it like that,
when it is approved. To look at things that way
makes everything we see profitable,
and we will often be comforted by finding
the carapaced beetle is in a safer position
than the broad winged eagle. Oh, this life
ismore noble than going to court just to be rebuked,
richer than taking bribes for nothing,
more dignified than rustling in unpaid-for silk:
that sort of thing is for those who dress themselves up
but never pay off their debts. That's no life compared to ours!
GUIDERIUS.
Out of your proof you speak. We, poor unfledg'd,
Have never wing'd from view o' th' nest, nor know not
What air's from home. Haply this life is best,
If quiet life be best; sweeter to you
That have a sharper known; well corresponding
With your stiff age. But unto us it is
A cell of ignorance, travelling abed,
/> A prison for a debtor that not dares
To stride a limit.
You speak from experience. We, poor fledglings,
have never flown out of sight of this nest, and don't know
what other places are like. Maybe this life is best,
if a quiet life is the best; it's sweeter to you
because you've experienced a more lively one; this one suits
your old age well. But to us it is
like being locked in a windowless cell, only travelling in our dreams,
like a debtors' prison where one dare not
go beyond the boundaries.
ARVIRAGUS.
What should we speak of
When we are old as you? When we shall hear
The rain and wind beat dark December, how,
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse.
The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing;
We are beastly: subtle as the fox for prey,
Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat.
Our valour is to chase what flies; our cage
We make a choir, as doth the prison'd bird,
And sing our bondage freely.
What shall we talk about
when we are as old as you? When we hear
the rain and wind of dark December, how,
in our cramped little cave, shall we while away
the freezing hours in talk? We have seen nothing;
we are like beasts: as cunning as the fox in hunting,
as warlike as the wolf in getting our food.
All our bravery is only hunting; we have become
like caged birds, we join together to sing
about our imprisonment.
BELARIUS.
How you speak!
Did you but know the city's usuries,
And felt them knowingly- the art o' th' court,
As hard to leave as keep, whose top to climb
Is certain falling, or so slipp'ry that
The fear's as bad as falling; the toil o' th' war,
A pain that only seems to seek out danger
I' th'name of fame and honour, which dies i' th'search,
And hath as oft a sland'rous epitaph
As record of fair act; nay, many times,
Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse-
Must curtsy at the censure. O, boys, this story