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The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)

Page 515

by William Shakespeare


  And meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not

  What can from Italy annoy us; but

  We grieve at chances here. Away!

  Exeunt all but PISANIO

  I thank you. Let's go,

  and take whatever comes. I'm not afraid

  of anything that comes from Italy; but

  I sorrow at what is happening here. Let's go!

  PISANIO.

  I heard no letter from my master since

  I wrote him Imogen was slain. 'Tis strange.

  Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise

  To yield me often tidings. Neither know

  What is betid to Cloten, but remain

  Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work.

  Wherein I am false I am honest; not true, to be true.

  These present wars shall find I love my country,

  Even to the note o' th' King, or I'll fall in them.

  All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd:

  Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer'd.

  Exit

  I've had no letter from my master since

  I wrote to him that Imogen was killed. That's strange.

  Nor have I heard from my mistress, who promised

  to write to me often. Nor do I know

  what has happened to Cloten, everything is

  a mystery to me. The gods must still be working.

  Where I am false I am honest; I am disloyal to be loyal.

  The current wars shall prove I love my country,

  even the King shall see it, or I'll die in the attempt.

  Let all of the questions be cleared up in time,

  Fortune can make strange things happen.

  Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS

  GUIDERIUS.

  The noise is round about us.

  The noise is all around us.

  BELARIUS.

  Let us from it.

  Let's get away from it.

  ARVIRAGUS.

  What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it

  From action and adventure?

  What pleasure, sir, will we get from life, if we

  avoid all action and adventure?

  GUIDERIUS.

  Nay, what hope

  Have we in hiding us? This way the Romans

  Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us

  For barbarous and unnatural revolts

  During their use, and slay us after.

  And what hope have we

  of remaining hidden? Your way the Romans

  will either kill us as Britons, or use us

  as savage and unnatural rebels

  for their purposes, then kill us afterwards.

  BELARIUS.

  Sons,

  We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us.

  To the King's party there's no going. Newness

  Of Cloten's death- we being not known, not muster'd

  Among the bands-may drive us to a render

  Where we have liv'd, and so extort from's that

  Which we have done, whose answer would be death,

  Drawn on with torture.

  Sons,

  we'll go higher in the mountains; there we'll hide.

  We can't join the King's party. The recent

  death of Cloten–as we are unknowns, not listed

  amongst the tribes–may lead to an interrogation

  as to where we have been living, and so get from us

  details of what we have done, which would result in death,

  brought on by torture.

  GUIDERIUS.

  This is, sir, a doubt

  In such a time nothing becoming you

  Nor satisfying us.

  This faintheartedness, sir,

  does not suit you at such a time,

  and it does not please us.

  ARVIRAGUS.

  It is not likely

  That when they hear the Roman horses neigh,

  Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes

  And ears so cloy'd importantly as now,

  That they will waste their time upon our note,

  To know from whence we are.

  It isn't likely

  that when they hear the Roman horses neighing,

  see the fires of their camps, have both their eyes

  and ears filled with such important matters,

  that they will waste their time on looking at us,

  asking where we're from.

  BELARIUS.

  O, I am known

  Of many in the army. Many years,

  Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him

  From my remembrance. And, besides, the King

  Hath not deserv'd my service nor your loves,

  Who find in my exile the want of breeding,

  The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless

  To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd,

  But to be still hot summer's tanlings and

  The shrinking slaves of winter.

  Oh, I am known

  to many in the Army. Although Cloten

  was only young when I last saw him, you saw

  that I still recognised him. And, besides, the King

  hasn't earned my service nor your love,

  who have had such a hard upbringing due to my exile,

  with nothing but a hard life ahead; you will not

  have a chance of fulfilling your childhood promise,

  but will stay as sunburnt children and

  shivering slaves in the winter.

  GUIDERIUS.

  Than be so,

  Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to th' army.

  I and my brother are not known; yourself

  So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown,

  Cannot be questioned.

  It would be better

  to be dead than that. Please, Sir, let's go to the army.

  My brother and I are unknown; you yourself

  have been gone so long that you've been quite forgotten,

  you won't be questioned.

  ARVIRAGUS.

  By this sun that shines,

  I'll thither. What thing is't that I never

  Did see man die! scarce ever look'd on blood

  But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison!

  Never bestrid a horse, save one that had

  A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel

  Nor iron on his heel! I am asham'd

  To look upon the holy sun, to have

  The benefit of his blest beams, remaining

  So long a poor unknown.

  I swear by this sun,

  I'll go there. Imagine, I have never

  seen a man die! I hardly ever seen blood

  except for that of running hares, lusty goats, and deer!

  I've never sat on a horse, apart from one that had

  a rider like myself, who never wore spurs

  or armour! I am ashamed

  to look at the holy sun, to have

  the benefit of his blessed beams, having been

  so insignificant for so long.

  GUIDERIUS.

  By heavens, I'll go!

  If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave,

  I'll take the better care; but if you will not,

  The hazard therefore due fall on me by

  The hands of Romans!

  By God, I'll go!

  If you will bless me, sir, and give me permission,

  I'll be happier; but if you will not,

  may the risks that will bring fall on me

  at the hands of the Romans!

  ARVIRAGUS.

  So say I, amen.

  I completely agree.

  BELARIUS.

  No reason I, since of your lives you set

  So slight a valuation, should reserve

  My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys!

  If in your country wars you chance to die,


  That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie.

  Lead, lead. [Aside] The time seems long; their blood thinks

  scorn

  Till it fly out and show them princes born.

  Exeunt

  There's no reason for me, since you value your lives

  so little, to set a higher price

  on my old one. Come on then, boys!

  If you happen to die in your country's wars,

  then I will choose the same fate.

  Lead on.[Aside] The time has come; they won't settle

  until they have fought in battle and prove themselves to be princes.

  Enter POSTHUMUS alone, with a bloody handkerchief

  POSTHUMUS.

  Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I wish'd

  Thou shouldst be colour'd thus. You married ones,

  If each of you should take this course, how many

  Must murder wives much better than themselves

  For wrying but a little! O Pisanio!

  Every good servant does not all commands;

  No bond but to do just ones. Gods! if you

  Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never

  Had liv'd to put on this; so had you saved

  The noble Imogen to repent, and struck

  Me, wretch more worth your vengeance. But alack,

  You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love,

  To have them fall no more. You some permit

  To second ills with ills, each elder worse,

  And make them dread it, to the doer's thrift.

  But Imogen is your own. Do your best wills,

  And make me blest to obey. I am brought hither

  Among th' Italian gentry, and to fight

  Against my lady's kingdom. 'Tis enough

  That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace!

  I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens,

  Hear patiently my purpose. I'll disrobe me

  Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself

  As does a Britain peasant. So I'll fight

  Against the part I come with; so I'll die

  For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life

  Is every breath a death. And thus unknown,

  Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril

  Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know

  More valour in me than my habits show.

  Gods, put the strength o' th' Leonati in me!

  To shame the guise o' th' world, I will begin

  The fashion- less without and more within.

  Exit

  Yes, bloody cloth, I'll keep you; for I wanted

  you to be coloured like this. You married ones,

  if each of you followed this path, how many

  would murder wives much better than themselves

  for straying just a little! Oh Pisanio!

  A good servant should not follow all orders;

  you are only obliged to do the just ones. Gods! If you

  would have punished my thoughts, I never

  would have lived to start this; then you would have saved

  the noble Imogen to repent what she had done, and hit

  me, a wretch more deserving of punishment. But alas,

  you take the lives of some for small offences; that's out of love,

  so they can fall no further. Others you allow

  to pile sin upon sin, each one getting worse,

  until in the end they despise it, to their benefit.

  But now you have Imogen. Do what you think is best,

  and give me the privilege of obeying. I have come here

  with the Italian noblemen, to fight

  against my lady's kingdom. Britain, it's enough

  that I have killed your mistress; peace!

  I'll do you no harm. Therefore, good heavens,

  listen patiently to my plan. I'll take off

  these Italian clothes, and dress myself

  as a British peasant. So I will fight

  against the ones I came with; that way I'll die

  for you, oh Imogen, who has made my life

  a living death. And so disguised,

  neither pitied nor hated, I'll throw myself

  into the face of danger. Let me show men

  more bravery than my clothes would make them expect.

  Gods, put the strength of the Leonati in me!

  I'll begin to shame the opinions of the world,

  showing a brave heart can beat under shabby clothes.

  Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman army at one door, and the British army at another, LEONATUS POSTHUMUS following like a poor soldier. They march over and go out. Alarums. Then enter again, in skirmish, IACHIMO and POSTHUMUS. He vanquisheth and disarmeth IACHIMO, and then leaves him

  IACHIMO.

  The heaviness and guilt within my bosom

  Takes off my manhood. I have belied a lady,

  The Princess of this country, and the air on't

  Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl,

  A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me

  In my profession? Knighthoods and honours borne

  As I wear mine are titles but of scorn.

  If that thy gentry, Britain, go before

  This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds

  Is that we scarce are men, and you are gods.

  Exit

  The battle continues; the BRITONS fly; CYMBELINE is taken.

  Then enter to his rescue BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS

  The sorrow and guilt within my heart

  quite unmans me. I have betrayed a lady,

  the Princess of this country, and the country's air

  has made me weak in revenge; otherwise how could this peasant,

  one of nature's lowest things, have beaten me

  in my own profession? Knighthoods and medals such as

  I wear are just mockeries.

  If your noblemen, Britain, are as for above

  this lout as he is above our lords, it must be

  that we are hardly men, and you are gods.

  BELARIUS.

  Stand, stand! We have th' advantage of the ground;

  The lane is guarded; nothing routs us but

  The villainy of our fears.

  Stand, stand! We hold the best position;

  the road is guarded; nothing can beat us except

  giving in to our own fears.

  GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS.

  Stand, stand, and fight!

  Re-enter POSTHUMUS, and seconds the Britons; they rescue

  CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then re-enter LUCIUS and IACHIMO,

  with IMOGEN

  Stand, stand and fight!

  LUCIUS.

  Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself;

  For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such

  As war were hoodwink'd.

  Get away, boy, from the troops, and save yourself;

  friends are killing friends, there's such chaos it's as if

  war was blindfolded.

  IACHIMO.

  'Tis their fresh supplies.

  Here come their reinforcements.

  LUCIUS.

  It is a day turn'd strangely; or betimes

  Let's reinforce or fly.

  Exeunt

  The battle has turned strangely; we must either

  renew the attack or flee.

  Enter POSTHUMUS and a Britain LORD

  LORD.

  Cam'st thou from where they made the stand?

  Have you come from where they made their stand?

  POSTHUMUS.

  I did:

  Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.

  I did:

  though you, it seems, come from those who fled.

  LORD.

  I did.

  I did.

  POSTHUMUS.

  No blame be to you, sir, for all was lost,

  But that the heavens fought. The King
himself

  Of his wings destitute, the army broken,

  And but the backs of Britons seen, an flying,

  Through a strait lane- the enemy, full-hearted,

  Lolling the tongue with slaught'ring, having work

  More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down

  Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling

  Merely through fear, that the strait pass was damm'd

  With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living

  To die with length'ned shame.

  I don't blame you, sir, for all was lost,

  but the gods fought for us. The King himself

  had lost both wings, the army was broken,

  and all that could be seen of Britons was their backs

  as they ran away down a straight road–the enemy, brave,

  were panting with so much slaughter, having more

  to do than they had tools to do it, they struck some

  down dead, some are just wounded, some died

  just through fear, so that the straight road was blocked

  with dead men wounded from behind, and cowards

  who live to die in shame.

  LORD.

  Where was this lane?

  Where was this road?

  POSTHUMUS.

  Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf,

  Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier-

  An honest one, I warrant, who deserv'd

  So long a breeding as his white beard came to,

  In doing this for's country. Athwart the lane

  He, with two striplings- lads more like to run

  The country base than to commit such slaughter;

  With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer

  Than those for preservation cas'd or shame-

  Made good the passage, cried to those that fled

  'Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men.

  To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards! Stand;

  Or we are Romans and will give you that,

  Like beasts, which you shun beastly, and may save

  But to look back in frown. Stand, stand!' These three,

 

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