The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated)
Page 515
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,