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Cymbeline is a play by William Shakespeare, set in Ancient Britain (part of the play is set in the area corresponding to Wales) and based on legends concerning the early Celtic British King Cunobeline. Although listed as a tragedy in the First Folio, modern critics often classify Cymbeline as a romance. Like Othello and The Winter's Tale, it deals with the themes of innocence and jealousy. While the precise date of composition remains unknown, the play was certainly produced as early as 1611. Imogen (or Innogen), daughter of the British king Cymbeline, is in love with Posthumus Leonatus, a man raised in her father's court who is described as possessing exceeding personal merit and martial skill. The two have secretly married, exchanging jewellery as tokens: a ring from Imogen, a bracelet from Posthumus. Cymbeline has discovered the affair and banishes Posthumus for his presumption, for Imogen is currently Cymbeline's only child and so her husband is heir to the British throne. Cymbeline did have two sons before Imogen, Guiderius and Arviragus, but they were stolen twenty years before as infants by Belarius, a courtier banished as a traitor for supposedly conspiring with the Romans. Cymbeline is a vassal king of Caesar Augustus, and Caius Lucius, a Roman ambassador, is on his way to demand the tribute that Cymbeline, under the influence of his wife the Queen, has stopped paying. The Queen is conspiring to have Cloten, her cloddish and arrogant son by an earlier marriage, married to Imogen. The Queen also is plotting to murder both Imogen and Cymbeline to secure Cloten's kingship, and to that end has procured what she believes to be deadly poison from the court doctor, Cornelius; Cornelius, however, suspects the Queen's malice and switches the "poison" with a drug that will cause the imbiber's body to mimic death for a while before reviving. Imogen meanwhile secludes herself in her chambers, resisting entreaties that she come forth and marry Cloten. Posthumus flees to Italy to the house of his friend Philario/Filario, where he meets Iachimo/Giacomo. Posthumus waxes at length on Imogen's beauty and chastity, and Iachimo challenges him to a bet that he, Iachimo, can seduce Imogen and bring Posthumus proof of her adultery. If he wins, Iachimo will get Imogen's ring from Posthumus's finger. If Posthumus wins, not only must Iachimo pay him but also consent to a sword duel so that Posthumus may avenge his and Imogen's affronted honour. Iachimo heads to Britain where he aggressively attempts to seduce the faithful Imogen, who sends him packing. Iachimo then hides in a chest in Imogen's bedchamber and, when the princess falls asleep, emerges to steal from her Posthumus's bracelet. He also examines the room and Imogen's partly naked body for further proof. Returning to Italy, Iachimo convinces Posthumus that he has successfully seduced Imogen. In his wrath, Posthumus sends two letters to Britain: one to Imogen, telling her to meet him at Milford Haven, on the west coast of Wales; the other to Pisanio, Posthumus's servant left behind at court, ordering him to murder Imogen at the Haven. On the way the anguished Pisanio instead shows his letter to Imogen, revealing Posthumus's plot. He has Imogen disguise herself as a boy and continue to Milford Haven to seek employment. He also gives her the Queen's "poison," believing it will alleviate nausea from distemper and motion sickness. Imogen adopts the name "Fidele," meaning "faithful."
- Original language: English
- Dimensions: 11.00" h x 8.50" w x .41" l, .95 pounds
- Binding: Paperback
Review
“A remarkable edition, one that makes Shakespeare’s extraordinary accomplishment more vivid than ever.”—James Shapiro, professor, Columbia University, bestselling author of A Year in the Life of Shakespeare: 1599
“A feast of literary and historical information.”—The Wall Street Journal
About the Author
William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616) was an English poet, playwright and actor, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist. His extant works, including some collaborations, consist of about 38 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and a few other verses, the authorship of some of which is uncertain. His plays have been translated into every major living language and are performed more often than those of any other playwright. He was born and brought up in Stratford-upon-Avon. At the age of 18, he married Anne Hathaway, with whom he had three children. Between 1585 and 1592, he began a successful career in London as an actor, writer, and part-owner of a playing company called the Lord Chamberlain's Men, later known as the King's Men. He produced most of his known work between 1589 and 1613.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
Act 1 Scene 1 running scene 1
Enter two Gentlemen
FIRST GENTLEMAN??You do not meet a man but frowns. Our bloods
No more obey the heavens than our courtiers
Still seem as does the king.
SECOND GENTLEMAN??But what's the matter?
FIRST GENTLEMAN??His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom
He purposed to his wife's sole son - a widow
That late he married - hath referred herself
Unto a poor but worthy gentleman. She's wedded,
Her husband banished, she imprisoned, all
Is outward sorrow, though I think the king
Be touched at very heart.
SECOND GENTLEMAN??None but the king?
FIRST GENTLEMAN??He that hath lost her too: so is the queen,
That most desired the match. But not a courtier,
Although they wear their faces to the bent
Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not
Glad at the thing they scowl at.
SECOND GENTLEMAN??And why so?
FIRST GENTLEMAN??He that hath missed the princess is a thing
Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her -
I mean, that married her, alack, good man,
And therefore banished - is a creature such
As, to seek through the regions of the earth
For one his like, there would be something failing
In him that should compare. I do not think
So fair an outward and such stuff within
Endows a man but he.
SECOND GENTLEMAN??You speak him far.
FIRST GENTLEMAN??I do extend, sir, within himself,
Crush him together rather than unfold
His measure duly.
SECOND GENTLEMAN??What's his name and birth?
FIRST GENTLEMAN??I cannot delve him to the root: his father
Was called Sicilius, who did join his honour
Against the Romans with Cassibelan,
But had his titles by Tenantius whom
He served with glory and admired success:
So gained the sur-addition Leonatus.
And had, besides this gentleman in question,
Two other sons, who in the wars o'th'time
Died with their swords in hand. For which their father,
Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow
That he quit being, and his gentle lady,
Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceased
As he was born. The king he takes the babe
To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus,
Breeds him, and makes him of his bedchamber,
Puts to him all the learnings that his time
Could make him the receiver of, which he took
As we do air, fast as 'twas ministered,
And in's spring became a harvest: lived in court -
Which rare it is to do - most praised, most loved:
A sample to the youngest, to th'more mature
A glass that feated them, and to the graver,
A child that guided dotards. To his mistress,
For whom he now is banished, her own price
Proclaims how she esteemed him; and his virtue
By her election may be truly read,
What kind of man he is.
SECOND GENTLEMAN??I honour him even out of your report.
But pray you tell me, is she sole child to th'king?
FIRST GENTLEMAN??His only child.
He had two sons - if this be worth your hearing,
Mark it - the eldest of them at three years old,
I'th'swathing clothes the other, from their nursery
Were stol'n, and to this hour no guess in knowledge
Which way they went.
SECOND GENTLEMAN??How long is this ago?
FIRST GENTLEMAN??Some twenty years.
SECOND GENTLEMAN??That a king's children should be so conveyed,
So slackly guarded, and the search so slow
That could not trace them.
FIRST GENTLEMAN??Howsoe'er 'tis strange,
Or that the negligence may well be laughed at,
Yet is it true, sir.
SECOND GENTLEMAN??I do well believe you.
FIRST GENTLEMAN??We must forbear. Here comes the gentleman,
The queen and princess. Exeunt
Enter the Queen, Posthumus and Innogen
QUEEN No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter,
After the slander of most stepmothers,
Evil-eyed unto you. You're my prisoner, but
Your jailer shall deliver you the keys
That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus,
So soon as I can win th'offended king,
I will be known your advocate: marry, yet
The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good
You leaned unto his sentence, with what patience
Your wisdom may inform you.
POSTHUMUS Please your highness,
I will from hence today.
QUEEN You know the peril.
I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying
The pangs of barred affections, though the king
Hath charged you should not speak together. Exit
INNOGEN O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant
Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband,
I something fear my father's wrath, but nothing -
Always reserved my holy duty - what
His rage can do on me. You must be gone,
And I shall here abide the hourly shot
Of angry eyes: not comforted to live,
But that there is this jewel in the world
That I may see again.
POSTHUMUS My queen, my mistress:
O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause
To be suspected of more tenderness
Than doth become a man. I will remain
The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth.
My residence in Rome, at one Philario's,
Who to my father was a friend, to me
Known but by letter: thither write, my queen,
And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send,
Though ink be made of gall.
Enter Queen
QUEEN Be brief, I pray you:
If the king come, I shall incur I know not
How much of his displeasure.- Yet I'll move him Aside
To walk this way: I never do him wrong,
But he does buy my injuries to be friends:
Pays dear for my offences. [Exit]
POSTHUMUS Should we be taking leave
As long a term as yet we have to live,
The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu.
INNOGEN Nay, stay a little:
Were you but riding forth to air yourself,
Such parting were too petty. Look here, love,
This diamond was my mother's; take it, heart, Gives a ring
But keep it till you woo another wife,
When Innogen is dead.
POSTHUMUS How, how? Another?
You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
And cere up my embracements from a next
With bonds of death. Remain, remain thou here Puts on the ring
While sense can keep it on: and sweetest, fairest,
As I my poor self did exchange for you
To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles
I still win of you. For my sake wear this,
It is a manacle of love. I'll place it
Upon this fairest prisoner. Puts a bracelet on her arm
INNOGEN O, the gods!
When shall we see again?
Enter Cymbeline and Lords
POSTHUMUS Alack, the king!
CYMBELINE Thou basest thing, avoid hence, from my sight:
If after this command thou fraught the court
With thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away,
Thou'rt poison to my blood.
POSTHUMUS The gods protect you,
And bless the good remainders of the court:
I am gone. Exit
INNOGEN There cannot be a pinch in death
More sharp than this is.
CYMBELINE O disloyal thing,
That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st
A year's age on me.
INNOGEN I beseech you, sir,
Harm not yourself with your vexation,
I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare
Subdues all pangs, all fears.
CYMBELINE Past grace? Obedience?
INNOGEN Past hope and in despair: that way past grace.
CYMBELINE That mightst have had the sole son of my queen.
INNOGEN O, blest that I might not: I chose an eagle,
And did avoid a puttock.
CYMBELINE Thou took'st a beggar, wouldst have made my throne
A seat for baseness.
INNOGEN No, I rather added a lustre to it.
CYMBELINE O thou vile one!
INNOGEN Sir,
It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus:
You bred him as my playfellow, and he is
A man worth any woman: overbuys me
Almost the sum he pays.
CYMBELINE What? Art thou mad?
INNOGEN Almost, sir: heaven restore me! Would I were
A neatherd's daughter, and my Leonatus
Our neighbour shepherd's son.
Enter Queen
CYMBELINE Thou foolish thing!-
They were again together: you have done To Queen
Not after our command.- Away with her,
And pen her up.
QUEEN Beseech your patience: peace,
Dear lady daughter, peace. Sweet sovereign,
Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself some comfort
Out of your best advice.
CYMBELINE Nay, let her languish
A drop of blood a day, and being aged,
Die of this folly. Exeunt [Cymbeline and Lords]
Enter Pisanio
QUEEN Fie, you must give way.
Here is your servant.- How now, sir? What news?
PISANIO My lord your son drew on my master.
QUEEN Ha?
No harm I trust is done?
PISANIO There might have been,
But that my master rather played than fought,
And had no help of anger: they were parted
By gentlemen at hand.
QUEEN I am very glad on't.
INNOGEN Your son's my father's friend, he takes his part
To draw upon an exile.- O brave sir!-
I would they were in Afric both together,
Myself by with a needle, that I might prick
The goer-back.-Why came you from your master?
PISANIO On his command: he would not suffer me
To bring him to the haven: left these notes
Of what commands I should be subject to,
When't pleased you to employ me.
QUEEN This hath been
Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour
He will remain so.
PISANIO I humbly thank your highness.
QUEEN Pray walk awhile. To Innogen
INNOGEN About some half hour hence, pray you speak with me. To Pisanio
You shall, at least, go see my lord aboard.
For this time leave me. Exeunt
Act 1 Scene 2 running scene 1 continues
Enter Cloten and two Lords
FIRST LORD Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice: where air comes out, air comes in: there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.
CLOTEN If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him?
SECOND LORD??No, faith: not so much as his patience. Aside
FIRST LORD Hurt him? His body's a passable carcass if he be not hurt. It is a thoroughfare for steel if it be not hurt.
SECOND LORD??His steel was in debt, it went o'th'backside the town. Aside
CLOTEN The villain would not stand me.
SECOND LORD??No, but he fled forward still, toward your face. Aside
FIRST LORD Stand you? You have land enough of your own: but he added to your having, gave you some ground.
SECOND LORD??As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies! Aside
CLOTEN I would they had not come between us.
SECOND LORD??So would I, till you had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground. Aside
CLOTEN And that she should love this fellow, and refuse me!
SECOND LORD??If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damned. Aside
FIRST LORD Sir, as I told you always: her beauty and her brain go not together. She's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.
SECOND LORD??She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her. Aside
CLOTEN Come, I'll to my chamber: would there had been some hurt done.
SECOND LORD??I wish not so, unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt. Aside
CLOTEN You'll go with us?
FIRST LORD I'll attend your lordship.
CLOTEN Nay, come, let's go together.
SECOND LORD??Well, my lord. Exeunt
Act 1 Scene 3 running scene 1 continues
Enter Innogen and Pisanio
INNOGEN I would thou grew'st unto the shores o'th'haven,
And questioned'st every sail: if he should write,
And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost,
As offered mercy is. What was the last
That he spake to thee?
PISANIO It was his queen, his queen.
INNOGEN Then waved his handkerchief?
PISANIO And kissed it, madam.
INNOGEN Senseless linen, happier therein than I:
And that was all?
PISANIO No, madam: for so long
As he could make me with this eye, or ear,
Distinguish him from others, he did keep
The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief,
Still waving, as the fits and stirs of's mind
Could best express how slow his soul sailed on,
How swift his ship.
INNOGEN Thou shouldst have made him
As little as a crow, or less, ere left
To after-eye him.
PISANIO Madam, so I did.
INNOGEN I would have broke mine eyestrings, cracked them, but
To look upon him, till the diminution
Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle:
Nay, followed him, till he had melted from
The smallness of a gnat to air: and then
Have turned mine eye, and wept. But, good Pisanio,
When shall we hear from him?
PISANIO Be assured, madam,
With his next vantage.
INNOGEN I did not take my leave of him, but had
Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him
How I would think on him at certain hours,
Such thoughts and such: or I could make him swear
The shes of Italy should not betray
Mine interest and his honour: or have charged him,
At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight,
T'encounter me with orisons, for then
I am in heaven for him: or ere I could
Give him that parting kiss, which I had set
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father,
And like the tyrannous breathing of the north,
Shakes all our buds from growing.
Enter a Lady
LADY The queen, madam,
Desires your highness' company.
INNOGEN Those things I bid you do, get them dispatched.
I will attend the queen.
PISANIO Madam, I shall. Exeunt
Act 1 Scene 4 running scene 2
Enter Philario, Iachimo, a Frenchman, a Dutchman and a Spaniard
IACHIMO Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain; he was then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of. But I could then have looked on him without the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side and I to peruse him by items.
PHILARIO You speak of him when he was less furnished than now he is with that which makes him both without and within.
FRENCHMAN I have seen him in France: we had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he.
IACHIMO This matter of marrying his king's daughter, wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter.
FRENCHMAN And then his banishment.
IACHIMO Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him, be it but to fortify her judgement, which else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar without less quality. But how comes it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance?
PHILARIO His father and I were soldiers together, to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life.
Enter Posthumus
Here comes the Briton. Let him be so entertained amongst you as suits with gentlemen of your knowing to a stranger of his quality. I beseech you all be better known to this gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine. How worthy he is I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing.
Most helpful customer reviews
65 of 73 people found the following review helpful.
A late, loony, self- parodying masterpiece
By A Customer
"Cymbeline" is my favourite Shakespeare play. It's also probably his loopiest. It has three plots, managing to drag in a banishment, a murder, a wicked queen, a moment of almost sheer pornography, a full-on battle between the Romans and the British, a spunky heroine, her jealous but not-really-all-that-bad husband, some fantastic poetry and Jupiter himself descending out of heaven on an eagle to tell the husband to pull his finger out and get looking for his wife. Finally, just when your head is spinning with all the cross-purposes and dangling resolutions, Shakespeare pulls it all together with shameless neatness and everybody lives happily ever after. Except for the wicked queen, and her son, who had his head cut off in Act 4.
"Cymbeline" is, then, completely nuts, but it manages also to be very moving. Quentin Tarantino once described his method as "placing genre characters in real-life situations" - Shakespeare pulls off the far more rewarding trick of placing realistic characters in genre situations. Kicking off with one of the most brazen bits of expository dialogue he ever created, not even bothering to give the two lords who have to explain the back story an ounce of personality, Shakespeare quickly recovers full control and races through his long, complex and deeply implausible narrative at a headlong pace. The play is outrageously theatrical, and yet intensely observed. Imogen's reaction on reading her husband's false accusation of her infidelity is a riveting mixture of hurt and anger; she goes through as much tragedy as a Juliet, yet is less inclined to buckle and snap under the pressure. When she wakes up next to a headless body that she believes to be her husband, her aria of grief is one of the finest WS ever wrote. No less impressive is her plucky determination to get on with her life, rather than follow her hubby into the grave.
Posthumus, the hubby in question, is made of less attractive stuff, but when he comes to believe that Imogen is dead, as he ordered (this play is full of people getting things wrong and suffering for it), he rejects his earlier jealousy and starts to redeem himself a tad. There's a vicious misogyny near the heart of this play, as Shakespeare biographer Park Honan observed, kept in balance by a hatred of violence against women. The oafish prince Cloten, who lusts after Imogen, is a truly repellent piece of work, without even the intelligence of Iago or the horrified panic of Macbeth; his plan to kill Posthumus and rape Imogen before her husband's body is just about as squalid and vindictive as we expect of this louse, and when a long-lost son of the king (don't even _ask_) lops Cloten's head off, there are cheers all round.
Shakespeare sends himself up all through "Cymbeline". I wonder if the almost ludicrously informative opening exposition scene isn't a bit of a gag on his part, but when a tired and angry Posthumus breaks into rhyming couplets, then catches himself and observes "You have put me into rhyme", we know that Shakespeare is having us on a little. Likewise, the final scene, when all is resolved, goes totally over the top in its piling-on "But-what-of-such-and-such?" and "My-Lord-I-forgot-to-mention" moments.
Yet the moments of terror and pity are deep enough to make the jokiness feel truly earned. When Imogen is laid to rest and her adoptive brothers recite "Fear no more the heat o' the sun" over her body, it's as affecting as any moment in the canon. That she isn't actually dead, we don't find out until a few moments later, but it's still a great moment.
Playful, confusing, enigmatic, funny and shot through with a frightening darkness, this is another top job by the Stratford boy. Well done.
22 of 26 people found the following review helpful.
misleading and outdated
By A Customer
This is probably one of the most outdated and misleading of the Arden editions. Nosworthy really doesn't like the play and dismisses it as an experiment leading up to _The Tempest_. Even his editing of the text is affected by his reading of the play. Only scholars who know something about Shakespeare should venture here.
23 of 28 people found the following review helpful.
Simply Magnificent
By Sean Ares Hirsch
A combination of "Romeo and Juliet," "Much Ado About Nothing," "As You Like It," and "King Lear?" Well somehow, Shakespeare made it work. Like "Romeo and Juliet" we have a protagonist (Imogen) who falls under her father's rages because she will not marry who he wants her to. Like "Much Ado About Nothing," we have a villain (Iachimo) who tries to convince a man (Posthumus) that the woman he loves is full of infidelity. Like "As You Like It," we have exiled people who praise life in the wilderness and a woman who disguises herself as a man to search for her family in the wilderness. Like "King Lear," we have a king who's rages and miscaculated judgement lead to disastorous consequences. What else is there? Only beautiful language, multiple plots, an evil queen who tries to undermind the king, an action filled war, suspense, a dream with visions of Pagan gods, and a beautiful scene of reconciliation at the end. While this is certainly one of Shakespeare's longer plays, it is well worth the time.
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