Cymbeline, King of Britain: Act 1, Scene 7 Translation

A side-by-side translation of Act 1, Scene 7 of Cymbeline, King of Britain from the original Shakespeare into modern English.

  Original Text

 Translated Text

  Source: Folger Shakespeare Library

Enter Imogen alone.

IMOGEN
A father cruel and a stepdame false,
A foolish suitor to a wedded lady
That hath her husband banished. O, that husband,
My supreme crown of grief and those repeated
Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol’n, 5
As my two brothers, happy; but most miserable
Is the desire that’s glorious. Blessed be those,
How mean soe’er, that have their honest wills,
Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie!

Imogen sits alone in her room and feels sorry for herself. For those keeping track, she has a cruel dad, a fake stepmother, a foolish suitor, and a banished husband. Her life sucks.

Enter Pisanio and Iachimo.

PISANIO
Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome 10
Comes from my lord with letters.

IACHIMO Change you,
madam?
The worthy Leonatus is in safety
And greets your Highness dearly. 15
He gives her a letter.

IMOGEN Thanks, good sir.
You’re kindly welcome.

Pisanio enters with Iachimo—and, more importantly, with a letter from her beloved Posthumus. Imogen is excited to get the letter and welcomes Iachimo for bringing it.

IACHIMO, aside
All of her that is out of door, most rich!
If she be furnished with a mind so rare,
She is alone th’ Arabian bird, and I 20
Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend.
Arm me, audacity, from head to foot,
Or like the Parthian I shall flying fight—
Rather, directly fly.

Iachimo is floored by Imogen's hotness. He didn't see that coming; in fact, he's worried that if this woman is as smart as she is pretty, he'll lose the bet.

IMOGEN reads: He is one of the noblest note, to whose 25
kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon
him accordingly as you value your trust.
Leonatus.
So far I read aloud.
But even the very middle of my heart 30
Is warmed by th’ rest and takes it thankfully.—
You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I
Have words to bid you, and shall find it so
In all that I can do.

IACHIMO Thanks, fairest lady.— 35
What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes
To see this vaulted arch and the rich crop
Of sea and land, which can distinguish ’twixt
The fiery orbs above and the twinned stones
Upon the numbered beach, and can we not 40
Partition make with spectacles so precious
’Twixt fair and foul?

IMOGEN What makes your admiration?

IACHIMO
It cannot be i’ th’ eye, for apes and monkeys
’Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and 45
Contemn with mows the other; nor i’ th’ judgment,
For idiots in this case of favor would
Be wisely definite; nor i’ th’ appetite—
Sluttery to such neat excellence opposed
Should make desire vomit emptiness, 50
Not so allured to feed.

IMOGEN
What is the matter, trow?

IACHIMO The cloyèd will,
That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub
Both filled and running, ravening first the lamb, 55
Longs after for the garbage.

IMOGEN What, dear sir,
Thus raps you? Are you well?

IACHIMO Thanks, madam, well.
(To Pisanio.) Beseech you, sir, 60
Desire my man’s abode where I did leave him.
He’s strange and peevish.

PISANIO I was going, sir,
To give him welcome. He exits.

But Iachimo doesn't give up that easily. He compliments Imogen, but she doesn't seem to care, so he sends Pisanio away to tend to his own servant. Iachimo figures that if he's alone with Imogen, he can entice her.

IMOGEN
Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you? 65

IACHIMO Well, madam.

IMOGEN
Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.

IACHIMO
Exceeding pleasant. None a stranger there
So merry and so gamesome. He is called
The Briton Reveler. 70

IMOGEN When he was here
He did incline to sadness, and ofttimes
Not knowing why.

IACHIMO I never saw him sad.
There is a Frenchman his companion, one 75
An eminent monsieur that, it seems, much loves
A Gallian girl at home. He furnaces
The thick sighs from him, whiles the jolly Briton—
Your lord, I mean—laughs from ’s free lungs, cries “O,
Can my sides hold to think that man who knows 80
By history, report, or his own proof
What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose
But must be, will ’s free hours languish for
Assurèd bondage?”

IMOGEN Will my lord say so? 85

IACHIMO
Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter.
It is a recreation to be by
And hear him mock the Frenchman. But heavens
know
Some men are much to blame. 90

IMOGEN Not he, I hope.

IACHIMO
Not he—but yet heaven’s bounty towards him might
Be used more thankfully. In himself ’tis much;
In you, which I account his, beyond all talents.
Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound 95
To pity too.

IMOGEN What do you pity, sir?

IACHIMO
Two creatures heartily.

IMOGEN Am I one, sir?
You look on me. What wrack discern you in me 100
Deserves your pity?

IACHIMO Lamentable! What,
To hide me from the radiant sun and solace
I’ th’ dungeon by a snuff?

IMOGEN I pray you, sir, 105
Deliver with more openness your answers
To my demands. Why do you pity me?

IACHIMO That others do—
I was about to say, enjoy your—but
It is an office of the gods to venge it, 110
Not mine to speak on ’t.

IMOGEN You do seem to know
Something of me or what concerns me. Pray you,
Since doubting things go ill often hurts more
Than to be sure they do—for certainties 115
Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing,
The remedy then born—discover to me
What both you spur and stop.

IACHIMO Had I this cheek
To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch, 120
Whose every touch, would force the feeler’s soul
To th’ oath of loyalty; this object which
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye,
Fixing it only here; should I, damned then,
Slaver with lips as common as the stairs 125
That mount the Capitol, join gripes with hands
Made hard with hourly falsehood—falsehood as
With labor; then by-peeping in an eye
Base and illustrous as the smoky light
That’s fed with stinking tallow; it were fit 130
That all the plagues of hell should at one time
Encounter such revolt.

IMOGEN My lord, I fear,
Has forgot Britain.

IACHIMO And himself. Not I, 135
Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce
The beggary of his change, but ’tis your graces
That from my mutest conscience to my tongue
Charms this report out.

Imogen asks about Posthumus. She wants to know about his health and his demeanor, and she wants to know how he's holding up in exile. Iachimo's all like, "Oh, he's holding up all right. And then some." He says Posthumus isn't sad at all; in fact, he's having loads of fun... a little too much fun with the ladies, if you catch his drift.

IMOGEN Let me hear no more. 140

IACHIMO
O dearest soul, your cause doth strike my heart
With pity that doth make me sick. A lady
So fair, and fastened to an empery
Would make the great’st king double, to be partnered
With tomboys hired with that self exhibition 145
Which your own coffers yield, with diseased ventures
That play with all infirmities for gold
Which rottenness can lend nature; such boiled stuff
As well might poison poison. Be revenged,
Or she that bore you was no queen, and you 150
Recoil from your great stock.

Imogen doesn't believe it at first, but then she feels sad and tells Iachimo to stop. She doesn't want to hear any more. This is exactly what Iachimo wants. He tells the princess she should get back at her husband for forgetting about her so quickly.

IMOGEN Revenged?
How should I be revenged? If this be true—
As I have such a heart that both mine ears
Must not in haste abuse—if it be true, 155
How should I be revenged?

IACHIMO Should he make me
Live like Diana’s priest betwixt cold sheets,
Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,
In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it. 160
I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure,
More noble than that runagate to your bed,
And will continue fast to your affection,
Still close as sure.

Imogen doesn't follow. How's she going to get her revenge?

Iachimo is more direct this time. He tells Imogen that he dedicates himself making her feel good—in other words, he'll sacrifice himself so that she can get back at Posthumus in the cruelest way. How noble of him.

IMOGEN What ho, Pisanio! 165

IACHIMO
Let me my service tender on your lips.

IMOGEN
Away! I do condemn mine ears that have
So long attended thee. If thou wert honorable,
Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not
For such an end thou seek’st, as base as strange. 170
Thou wrong’st a gentleman who is as far
From thy report as thou from honor, and
Solicits here a lady that disdains
Thee and the devil alike.—What ho, Pisanio!—
The King my father shall be made acquainted 175
Of thy assault. If he shall think it fit
A saucy stranger in his court to mart
As in a Romish stew and to expound
His beastly mind to us, he hath a court
He little cares for and a daughter who 180
He not respects at all.—What ho, Pisanio!

Imogen is horrified. She calls Iachimo out on his schemes to sleep with her. He's not honorable at all: he's kind of a creep, she says, and she condemns him. Boo-ya.

IACHIMO
O happy Leonatus! I may say
The credit that thy lady hath of thee
Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness
Her assured credit.—Blessèd live you long, 185
A lady to the worthiest sir that ever
Country called his; and you his mistress, only
For the most worthiest fit. Give me your pardon.
I have spoke this to know if your affiance
Were deeply rooted, and shall make your lord 190
That which he is, new o’er; and he is one
The truest mannered, such a holy witch
That he enchants societies into him.
Half all men’s hearts are his.

IMOGEN You make amends. 195

IACHIMO
He sits ’mongst men like a descended god.
He hath a kind of honor sets him off
More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry,
Most mighty princess, that I have adventured
To try your taking of a false report, which hath 200
Honored with confirmation your great judgment
In the election of a sir so rare,
Which you know cannot err. The love I bear him
Made me to fan you thus, but the gods made you,
Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon. 205

There's nothing left for Iachimo to do but agree with Imogen: he tells her she is the most virtuous woman he's ever met. Oh, and that whole ruse to get her into bed? That was a test, of course.

He was trying to seduce her to see if she was honest. Right. Luckily, Iachimo says, Imogen passed the test.

IMOGEN
All’s well, sir. Take my power i’ th’ court for yours.

IACHIMO
My humble thanks. I had almost forgot
T’ entreat your Grace but in a small request,
And yet of moment too, for it concerns.
Your lord, myself, and other noble friends 210
Are partners in the business.

IMOGEN Pray, what is ’t?

IACHIMO
Some dozen Romans of us and your lord—
The best feather of our wing—have mingled sums
To buy a present for the Emperor; 215
Which I, the factor for the rest, have done
In France. ’Tis plate of rare device and jewels
Of rich and exquisite form, their values great.
And I am something curious, being strange,
To have them in safe stowage. May it please you 220
To take them in protection?

Imogen finally accepts the apology, after loads of excessive begging from Iachimo.

Iachimo tells Imogen that he is in business with her husband and a bunch of other men. Together, he says, they've pooled their money to buy some lavish gifts for the emperor. There's just one problem: they need somewhere safe to store them.

IMOGEN Willingly;
And pawn mine honor for their safety. Since
My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them
In my bedchamber. 225

IACHIMO They are in a trunk
Attended by my men. I will make bold
To send them to you, only for this night.
I must aboard tomorrow.

IMOGEN O no, no. 230

IACHIMO
Yes, I beseech, or I shall short my word
By length’ning my return. From Gallia
I crossed the seas on purpose and on promise
To see your Grace.

IMOGEN I thank you for your pains. 235
But not away tomorrow.

IACHIMO O, I must, madam.
Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
To greet your lord with writing, do ’t tonight.
I have outstood my time, which is material 240
To th’ tender of our present.

IMOGEN I will write.
Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept
And truly yielded you. You’re very welcome.

They exit.

Imogen says she'll take care of them. Iachimo is relieved. The gifts are in a trunk, and he's worried that the jewels are so valuable that people will want to steal them.

Imogen tells Iachimo not to worry: she won't let the trunk out of her sight. In fact, she'll store the trunk in her bedchamber so that no one else can touch it. Iachimo thinks this is an excellent idea.

We're not exactly sure what the whole trunk business is about, since we know Posthumus and Iachimo haven't bought any grand gifts for the emperor. What we are sure of is that Iachimo is up to something.