Previous
Act 2, Scene 2
Cymbeline Translation Act 2, Scene 3
An ante-chamber adjoining Imogen's apartments. Enter CLOTEN and Lords.
FIRST LORD
Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, themost coldest that ever turned up ace.
FIRST LORD
You're the best loser, you keep your cool like no one else.
CLOTEN
It would make any man cold to lose.
CLOTEN
Losing would make any man feel cold.
FIRST LORD
But not every man patient after the noble temper ofyour lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win.
FIRST LORD
But it wouldn't make any man as patient as you are. You are so energetic and angry when you win.
Ask LitCharts AI:
The answer to your questions
Get instant explanations to your questions about anything we cover.
Powered by LitCharts content and AI.
Learn More
Powered by LitCharts content and AI.
Ask LitCharts AI:
The answer to your questions
Ask LitCharts AI:
The answer to your questions
Learn More
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?
CLOTEN
Winning makes any man brave. If I could get silly Imogen to marry me, I would have enough gold. It's almost morning, isn't it?
FIRST LORD
Day, my lord.
FIRST LORD
It's already day, my lord.
CLOTEN
I would this music would come: I am advised to giveher music o' mornings; they say it will penetrate.
CLOTEN
I wish this music would arrive. I was advised to give her music in the mornings. They say that'll work.
Enter Musicians
CLOTEN
Come on; tune: if you can penetrate her with your fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: if none 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.
CLOTEN
Come on, play. If you can change her mind by just playing your instruments, great. We'll try singing too. If none of it works, she can stay in there. But I'll never give up. First, something really excellent and with fancy effects in it. Then, a wonderful sweet tune, with beautiful rich words in it. And then let her think about it.
SONG
MUSICIANS
Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, 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: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise.
MUSICIANS
Listen, Listen! The birds are singing at the gates of the sky
And the sun-god wakes up
To give his horses water
Cupped in flowers
And marigolds begin
To open their golden eyes.
Wake up, my sweet lady,
Along with everything pretty:
Wake up, wake up.
CLOTEN
So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will consider your music the better: if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs and calves'-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend.
CLOTEN
All right, go away. If this works, I'll think your music is even better than I think it is now. If it doesn't, there's something wrong with her ears, and instruments made out of horse hairs and calf guts and the voices of castrated men can't change that.
Exeunt Musicians
SECOND LORD
Here comes the king.
SECOND LORD
Here comes the king.
CLOTEN
I am glad I was up so late; for that's the reason I was up so early: he cannot choose but take this service I have done fatherly.
CLOTEN
I'm glad I stayed up so late, because now by staying up all night I'm up early. He'll be thankful for this good deed I have done and will treat me in a fatherly way.
Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN
CLOTEN
Good morrow to your majesty and to my gracious mother.
CLOTEN
Good morning, your majesty and my mother.
CYMBELINE
Attend you here the door of our stern daughter?Will she not forth?
CYMBELINE
Are you waiting here at the door for my unrelenting daughter? Is she refusing to come out?
CLOTEN
I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice.
CLOTEN
I attacked her with music, but she hasn't responded.
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 out, And then she's yours.
CYMBELINE
Her minion's exile is too recent. She hasn't forgotten him yet. Some more time will erase her memory of him, and then she'll be yours.
QUEEN
You are most bound to the king, Who lets go by no vantages that may Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself To orderly soliciting, and be friended 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, And therein you are senseless.
QUEEN
You owe the king a lot for not letting go of any opportunity to try to get his daughter to like you. You should do this right and wait for the proper time. When she says no, try harder to please her. Act as if you felt inspired by love to do the things you do for her and that you obey her completely, except when she orders you to go away. In that case, you play dumb.
CLOTEN
Senseless! not so.
CLOTEN
Dumb! I'm not.
Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER
So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome;The one is Caius Lucius.
MESSENGER
Sir, ambassadors came from Rome. One is Caius Lucius.
CYMBELINE
A worthy fellow, Albeit he comes on angry purpose now; But that's no fault of his: we must receive him According to the honour of his sender; And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us, We must extend our notice. Our dear son, When you have given good morning to your mistress, Attend the queen and us; we shall have need To employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen.
CYMBELINE
He's a good man, even though he comes with an angry message now. But that's not his fault. I must treat him as well as the man who sent him deserves, and I have to pay attention to him because he has acted well towards me in the past. Dear son, when you have said hello to your girlfriend, come find the queen and me. We will need your help with this Roman. Come, my queen.
Exeunt all but CLOTEN
CLOTEN
If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not,Let her lie still and dream.
CLOTEN
If she's up, I'll speak to her. If not, she can keep lying down and dreaming.
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 Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up Their deer to the stand o' the stealer; and 'tis gold Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief; Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man: what Can it not do and undo? I will make One of her women lawyer to me, for I yet not understand the case myself.
Hello! [To himself] I know her attendants are with her. What if I bribe one of them? Gold often buys you a way in, and makes even the goddess Diana's attendants deceive her and give up the deer they were tracking to a thief. It's gold that leads to an honest man being killed and saves a thief. Sometimes it leads to both thief and honest man being hanged. What can't it do and undo? I'll make one of her women my lawyer, because I don't completely understand the case myself.
Knocks
By your leave.
Hello!
Enter a Lady
LADY
Who's there that knocks?
LADY
Who's knocking out there?
CLOTEN
A gentleman.
CLOTEN
A gentleman.
LADY
No more?
LADY
That's all?
CLOTEN
Yes, and a gentlewoman's son.
CLOTEN
Yes, and I'm also a lady's son.
LADY
That's moreThan some, whose tailors are as dear as yours,Can justly boast of. What's your lordship's pleasure?
LADY
That's more than some people can say who go to the same expensive tailors you do. What do you want?
CLOTEN
Your lady's person: is she ready?
CLOTEN
Your mistress. Is she ready?
LADY
Ay,To keep her chamber.
LADY
Yes, to stay in her room.
CLOTEN
There is gold for you;Sell me your good report.
CLOTEN
Here's gold for you. I'll pay you to say good things about me.
LADY
How! my good name? or to report of youWhat I shall think is good?—The princess!
LADY
What? Are you asking me to sell my reputation? Or describe you accurately? Here's the princess!
Enter IMOGEN
CLOTEN
Good morrow, fairest: sister, your sweet hand.
CLOTEN
Good morning, beautiful one. Sister, give me your sweet hand.
Exit Lady
IMOGEN
Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains For purchasing but trouble; the thanks I give Is telling you that I am poor of thanks And scarce can spare them.
IMOGEN
Good morning, sir. You're putting in too much effort for no reward. All I can say to thank you is that I don't have much thanks left and can hardly spare any.
CLOTEN
Still, I swear I love you.
CLOTEN
Still, I promise I love you.
IMOGEN
If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me: If you swear still, your recompense is still That I regard it not.
IMOGEN
If you just said you did, it would mean the same to me. If you keep promising, my answer will always be that I don't care.
CLOTEN
This is no answer.
CLOTEN
That's no answer.
IMOGEN
But that you shall not say I yield being silent, I would not speak. I pray you, spare me: 'faith, I shall unfold equal discourtesy To your best kindness: one of your great knowing Should learn, being taught, forbearance.
IMOGEN
I wouldn't speak, except that if I didn't say anything, you would say my silence meant consent. Please, leave me alone. I will only pay back your kindness with rudeness. Someone of your huge intelligence should learn to give up.
CLOTEN
To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin:I will not.
CLOTEN
It would be wrong to let you be this crazy. I won't.
IMOGEN
Fools are not mad folks.
IMOGEN
Fools are not crazy.
CLOTEN
Do you call me fool?
CLOTEN
Are you calling me a 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, 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 the very truth of it, I care not for you, And am so near the lack of charity— To accuse myself—I hate you; which I had rather You felt than make't my boast.
IMOGEN
I'm crazy, so I did. If you agree to be patient, I won't be mad any more. So we're both cured. I am really sorry, sir, that you made me forget the good manners that a lady should have by talking so much. So let me announce here and now, forever, that I know my own heart and I don't care for you. I'll even accuse myself of lacking charity by saying that I hate you. I wish you could understand that without my having to say it.
CLOTEN
You sin against Obedience, which you owe your father. For The contract you pretend with that base wretch, One bred of alms and foster'd with cold dishes, With scraps o' the court, it is no contract, none: And though it be allow'd in meaner parties— Yet who than he more mean?—to knit their souls, On whom there is no more dependency But brats and beggary, in self-figured knot; Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by The consequence o' the crown, and must not soil The precious note of it with a base slave. A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth, A pantler, not so eminent.
CLOTEN
You're sinning by disobeying your father. The marriage you pretend to be in with that lowlife was paid for by handouts and leftovers and scraps from the court, and it isn't legally binding. Lower-class people—but who's lower than him?—are allowed to marry for love because the only consequence for them will be brats and poverty, but you can't have that freedom because you'll inherit the crown. You can't make it dirty by marrying a lower-class slave. He's a worthless man who should be a servant or a squire or a bread-carver, not raised to such a high class.
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, 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.
IMOGEN
You rude man, even if you were the son of Jupiter and no better than you are now, you would be too lowly to be his servant. You would be honored enough, and people would envy you, given your qualities, if you were made his kingdom's hangman's assistant, and you would be hated for being promoted so high.
CLOTEN
The south-fog rot him!
CLOTEN
May he rot in the fog of the south of Europe!
IMOGEN
He never can meet more mischance than come To be but named of thee. His meanest garment, That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer In my respect than all the hairs above thee, Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio!
IMOGEN
The worst thing that could happen to him is for you to just say his name. I care more about any piece of clothing he ever wore than as many men like you as you have hairs on your head. Pisanio!
Enter PISANIO
CLOTEN
'His garment!' Now the devil—
CLOTEN
"Any piece of clothing!" The devil—
IMOGEN
To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently—
IMOGEN
[To Pisanio] Go to Dorothy, my attendant—
CLOTEN
'His garment!'
CLOTEN
"Any piece of clothing!"
IMOGEN
I am sprited with a fool. Frighted, and anger'd worse: go bid my woman 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 Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it: I hope it be not gone to tell my lord That I kiss aught but he.
IMOGEN
A foolish man is haunting me. I'm afraid, but more angry than afraid. Go ask my attendant to search for a bracelet that's missing from my arm. It was my husband's. I swear I wouldn't lose it for the wealth of any king in Europe. I think I saw it this morning. I'm sure it was on my arm last night. I kissed it. I hope it hasn't gone to tell my husband that I kiss anything other than him.
PISANIO
'Twill not be lost.
PISANIO
It won't be lost.
IMOGEN
I hope so: go and search.
IMOGEN
I hope so. Go look for it.
Exit PISANIO
CLOTEN
You have abused me:'His meanest garment!'
CLOTEN
You were rude to me. "Any piece of clothing he ever wore!"
IMOGEN
Ay, I said so, sir:If you will make't an action, call witness to't.
IMOGEN
Yes, sir, I said that. If you want to sue me, find a witness.
CLOTEN
I will inform your father.
CLOTEN
I'll tell your father.
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 the worst of discontent.
IMOGEN
Tell your mother too. She's in charge of me, and I hope she'll just think worse of me for this. I'll leave you to your anger, sir.
Exit
CLOTEN
I'll be revenged:'His meanest garment!' Well.
CLOTEN
I'll get my revenge. "Any piece of clothing!" Fine.
Exit
