The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
Page 509
you are now playing with, how your memory
will then be tortured with thoughts of me.Please finish it.
The lamb is begging the butcher.Where's your knife?
You are too slow to follow your master's orders,
when I want you to follow them too.
PISANIO.
O gracious lady,
Since I receiv'd command to do this business
I have not slept one wink.
Oh sweet lady,
since I got the orders to do this thing
I have not slept a wink.
IMOGEN.
Do't, and to bed then.
Then do it and go to bed.
PISANIO.
I'll wake mine eyeballs first.
I'd sooner tear my eyeballs out.
IMOGEN.
Wherefore then
Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abus'd
So many miles with a pretence? This place?
Mine action and thine own? our horses' labour?
The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court,
For my being absent?- whereunto I never
Purpose return. Why hast thou gone so far
To be unbent when thou hast ta'en thy stand,
Th' elected deer before thee?
Then why did you
say you'd do it?Why have you made us travel
so many miles under false pretences?Why this place?
Your effort and mine?The work of our horses?
The time it's taken?The disruption of the court
when they find I've gone? (I intend never
to go back)Why have you taken so much trouble
to get your deer in front of your hide,
only to put down your bow?
PISANIO.
But to win time
To lose so bad employment, in the which
I have consider'd of a course. Good lady,
Hear me with patience.
Just to buy some time
to find a way to avoid this task,
and I have now thought of a way.Good lady,
listen patiently to me.
IMOGEN.
Talk thy tongue weary- speak.
I have heard I am a strumpet, and mine ear,
Therein false struck, can take no greater wound,
Nor tent to bottom that. But speak.
Talk as much as you like.
I have heard I'm a tart, and now my ear
has been assaulted by that I can not be hurt further
by anything else.
PISANIO.
Then, madam,
I thought you would not back again.
Well, madam,
I thought you would not go back.
IMOGEN.
Most like-
Bringing me here to kill me.
Of course you did,
as you brought me here to kill me.
PISANIO.
Not so, neither;
But if I were as wise as honest, then
My purpose would prove well. It cannot be
But that my master is abus'd. Some villain,
Ay, and singular in his art, hath done you both
This cursed injury.
That's not the case;
but if I'm as clever as I am honest then
my plan will be a good one.It can only be
that my master has been tricked.Some scoundrel,
yes and a particularly clever one, has done you both
this damnable mischief.
IMOGEN.
Some Roman courtezan!
Some Roman prostitute!
PISANIO.
No, on my life!
I'll give but notice you are dead, and send him
Some bloody sign of it, for 'tis commanded
I should do so. You shall be miss'd at court,
And that will well confirm it.
No, I swear not!
I'll just inform him that you're dead, and send him
some bloody proof of it, as he orders me
to do.You shall be missed at court, and that will
confirm the truth of it.
IMOGEN.
Why, good fellow,
What shall I do the while? where bide? how live?
Or in my life what comfort, when I am
Dead to my husband?
Well, good fellow,
what shall I do in the meantime?Where shall I live, what shall I live on?
And what happiness can there be in my life, when I am
dead to my husband?
PISANIO.
If you'll back to th' court-
If you'll go back to the court -
IMOGEN.
No court, no father, nor no more ado
With that harsh, noble, simple nothing-
That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me
As fearful as a siege.
No court, no father, and no more nonsense
with that harsh, noble, stupid loser -
that Cloten, whose wooing of me has been like
being under siege.
PISANIO.
If not at court,
Then not in Britain must you bide.
If you don't live at court than
you must live out of Britain.
IMOGEN.
Where then?
Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,
Are they not but in Britain? I' th' world's volume
Our Britain seems as of it, but not in't;
In a great pool a swan's nest. Prithee think
There's livers out of Britain.
Where then?
Does the sun only shine on Britain?Day and night,
do they only exist in Britain?In the whole world,
Britain seems a part of it, though not joined to it;
a swan's nest in a great pool.Please believe
people do live outside Britain.
PISANIO.
I am most glad
You think of other place. Th' ambassador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford Haven
To-morrow. Now, if you could wear a mind
Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise
That which t' appear itself must not yet be
But by self-danger, you should tread a course
Pretty and full of view; yea, haply, near
The residence of Posthumus; so nigh, at least,
That though his actions were not visible, yet
Report should render him hourly to your ear
As truly as he moves.
I'm very glad
you'll consider other places.The ambassador,
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford Haven
tomorrow.Now, if you can play a part as
dark as your fortune is, and just hide
the things which can only be dangerous for you
if they come out now, you shall walk a safe
and happy path; yes, maybe close
to where Posthumus is; so near, at least,
that although you won't be able to see him
you will be able to hear exactly what he's up to.
IMOGEN.
O! for such means,
Though peril to my modesty, not death on't,
I would adventure.
Oh!For this sort of thing,
though I risk being immodest, not death,
I would take risks.
PISANIO.
Well then, here's the point:
You must forget to be a woman; change
Command into obedience; fear and niceness-
The handmaids of all women, or, more truly,
Woman it pretty self- into a waggish courage;
Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and
As quarrelous as the weasel. Nay, you must
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek,
Exposing it- but, O, the harder heart!
Alack, no remedy!- to the greedy touch
O
f common-kissing Titan, and forget
Your laboursome and dainty trims wherein
You made great Juno angry.
Well then, here's the thing:
you must forget you are a woman; change
from giving orders to obeying them; change fear and delicacy-
that attend all women, or, more truly,
make women - into a cheeky courage;
be ready with jokes, quick answers, saucy and
as quarrelsome as a weasel.You must forget about
protecting your delicate skin,
but expose it - and also harden your delicate heart,
for which, alas, there is no remedy! - to the burning kisses
of the sun, which touches everyone, and forget your
attention to your appearance which made
great Juno angry.
IMOGEN.
Nay, be brief;
I see into thy end, and am almost
A man already.
Alright, get to the point;
I can see your plan, and I'm almost
a man already.
PISANIO.
First, make yourself but like one.
Fore-thinking this, I have already fit-
'Tis in my cloak-bag- doublet, hat, hose, all
That answer to them. Would you, in their serving,
And with what imitation you can borrow
From youth of such a season, fore noble Lucius
Present yourself, desire his service, tell him
Wherein you're happy- which will make him know
If that his head have ear in music; doubtless
With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable,
And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad-
You have me, rich; and I will never fail
Beginning nor supplyment.
First, make yourself just like one.
Planning this, I have already provided -
it's in my saddlebag - a shirt, hat, stockings, all
that go with them.You should, with their help,
and by imitating a youth of a certain age,
present yourself to noble Lucius, say you want to serve him,
tell him what you're good at - which he'll see
if he has any ear for music; no doubt he'll
welcome you joyfully; for he's honourable
and tomake him twice as good very religious.As for your living,
you have me, rich, and I'll never fail
to make sure you have what you need.
IMOGEN.
Thou art all the comfort
The gods will diet me with. Prithee away!
There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even
All that good time will give us. This attempt
I am soldier to, and will abide it with
A prince's courage. Away, I prithee.
You are all the help
the gods will give me.Please go!
There's more to think about, but we'll sort that
out in good time.I am ready to do this bravely,
and will show the courage of a prince.Off you go, please.
PISANIO.
Well, madam, we must take a short farewell,
Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of
Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress,
Here is a box; I had it from the Queen.
What's in't is precious. If you are sick at sea
Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this
Will drive away distemper. To some shade,
And fit you to your manhood. May the gods
Direct you to the best!
Well, madam, we must part quickly,
so that I won't be missed and suspected
of helping you leave the court.My noble mistress,
here's a box; the Queen gave it to me.
It has precious contents.If you are seasick
or have a bad stomach on land, a drop of this
will cure you.Find some shelter
and get your man's clothes on.May the gods
show you the best path!
IMOGEN.
Amen. I thank thee.
Exeunt severally
Amen to that.Thank you.
Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, LUCIUS, and LORDS
CYMBELINE.
Thus far; and so farewell.
This is as far as we go; and so goodbye.
LUCIUS.
Thanks, royal sir.
My emperor hath wrote; I must from hence,
And am right sorry that I must report ye
My master's enemy.
Thank you, Royal Sir.
My emperor has written; I must go away,
and I'm very sorry that I must tell you
that now you are my master's enemy.
CYMBELINE.
Our subjects, sir,
Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself
To show less sovereignty than they, must needs
Appear unkinglike.
My subjects, sir,
will not tolerate his slavery; for me
to show less independence than them
would not be fitting for a king.
LUCIUS.
So, sir. I desire of you
A conduct overland to Milford Haven.
Madam, all joy befall your Grace, and you!
Very well, sir. I would like
an escort overland to Milford Haven.
Madam, may all joy come to your Grace, and you!
CYMBELINE.
My lords, you are appointed for that office;
The due of honour in no point omit.
So farewell, noble Lucius.
My lords, you have been chosen for the job;
give him all the respect he is due.
So farewell, noble Lucius.
LUCIUS.
Your hand, my lord.
Give me your hand, my lord.
CLOTEN.
Receive it friendly; but from this time forth
I wear it as your enemy.
Take it as a friend; but from now on
it will be used against you by an enemy.
LUCIUS.
Sir, the event
Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well.
Sir, the outcome
has yet to be decided. Farewell.
CYMBELINE.
Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords,
Till he have cross'd the Severn. Happiness!
Exeunt LUCIUS and LORDS
Don't leave good Lucius, my good lords,
until he has crossed the Severn. I wish you all happiness!
QUEEN.
He goes hence frowning; but it honours us
That we have given him cause.
He leaves here frowning; but we were right
to give him cause to.
CLOTEN.
'Tis all the better;
Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it.
It's all the better;
your brave Britons have got what they wish.
CYMBELINE.
Lucius hath wrote already to the Emperor
How it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely
Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness.
The pow'rs that he already hath in Gallia
Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves
His war for Britain.
Lucius has already written to the Emperor
telling him what happened. So now we must make sure
that our chariots and horsemen are prepared.
The forces that he already has in France
will soon be brought to the coast, and from there
he will begin his war for Britain.
QUEEN.
'Tis not sleepy business,
But must be look'd to speedily and strongly.
It's not a quiet business,
we must set about it quickly and with determination.
CYMBELINE.<
br />
Our expectation that it would be thus
Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen,
Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd
Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd
The duty of the day. She looks us like
A thing more made of malice than of duty;
We have noted it. Call her before us, for
We have been too slight in sufferance.
Exit a MESSENGER
Thinking it would turn out like this
has made us well-prepared. But, my gentle Queen,
where is my daughter? She did not greet
this Roman, nor has she paid me her
daily respects. She seems to me
to have more malice than obedience in her;
I have noticed it. Call her to me,
I have been too tolerant.
QUEEN.
Royal sir,
Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd
Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord,
'Tis time must do. Beseech your Majesty,
Forbear sharp speeches to her; she's a lady
So tender of rebukes that words are strokes,
And strokes death to her.
Re-enter MESSENGER
Royal sir,
since the exile of Posthumus she has kept
herself to herself; the cure for that, my lord,
can only be time. I beg your Majesty,
don't speak harshly to her; she's a lady
who is so sensitive to rebuke that words are like whips to her,
whipping her to death.
CYMBELINE.
Where is she, sir? How
Can her contempt be answer'd?
Where is she, sir? What,
is this more disobedience?
MESSENGER.
Please you, sir,
Her chambers are all lock'd, and there's no answer