Cymbeline Refinished/Act V

Foreword

Cymbeline Refinished Act V written by George Bernard Shaw

Title page

A rocky defile. A wild evening. Philario, in armor, stands on a tall rock, straining his eyes to see into the distance. In the foreground a Roman captain, sword in hand, his helmet badly battered, rushes in panting. Looking round before he sits down on a rock to recover his breath, he catches sight of Philario.

CAPTAIN. Ho there, signor! You are in danger there.
You can be seen a mile off.

PHILARIO [hastening down] Whats your news?
I am sent by Lucius to find out how fares
Our right wing led by General Iachimo.

CAPTAIN. He is outgeneralled. There's no right wing now. Broken and routed, utterly defeated, Our eagles taken and the few survivors In full flight like myself. And you?

PHILARIO. My news Is even worse. Lucius, I fear, is taken. Our centre could not stand the rain of arrows.

CAPTAIN. Someone has disciplined these savage archers. They shoot together and advance in step: Their horsemen trot in order to the charge And then let loose th' entire mass full speed. No single cavaliers but thirty score As from a catapult four hundred tons Of horse and man in one enormous shock Hurled on our shaken legions. Then their chariots With every axle furnished with a scythe Do bloody work. They made us skip, I promise you. Their slingers!

 [He points to his helmet]

--Well: see their work! Two inches further down I had been blind or dead. The crackbrained Welshmen Raged like incarnate devils.

PHILARIO. Yes: they thought We were the Britons. So our prisoners tell us.

CAPTAIN. Where did these bumpkins get their discipline?

PHILARIO. Ay: thats the marvel. Where?

CAPTAIN. Our victors say Cassivelaunus is alive again. But thats impossible.

PHILARIO. Not so impossible As that this witless savage Cymbeline, Whose brains were ever in his consort's head, Could thus defeat Roman-trained infantry.

CAPTAIN. 'Tis my belief that old Belarius, Banned as a traitor, must have been recalled. That fellow knew his job. These fat civilians When we're at peace, rob us of our rewards By falsely charging us with this or that; But when the trumpet sounds theyre on their knees to us.

PHILARIO. Well, Captain, I must hasten back to Lucius To blast his hopes of any help from you. Where, think you, is Iachimo?

CAPTAIN. I know not. And yet I think he cannot be far off.

PHILARIO. He lives then?

CAPTAIN. Perhaps. When all was lost he fought Like any legionary, sword in hand. His last reported word was "Save yourselves: Bid all make for the rocks; for there Their horsemen cannot come". I took his counsel; And here I am.

PHILARIO. You were best come with me. Failing Iachimo, Lucius will require Your tale at first hand.

CAPTAIN. Good. But we shall get No laurel crowns for what we've done today.

Exeunt together. Enter Posthumus dressed like a peasant, but wearing a Roman sword and a soldier's iron cap. He has in his hand a bloodstained 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 ne'er Had liv'd to put on this: so had you sav'd 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 doers' thrift; But Imogen is your own: do your best wills, And make me blest to obey! I am brought hither Among the 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. I have disrobed me Of my Italian weeds, and drest myself As does a Briton peasant; so I've fought Against the part I came 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 shew. Gods, put the strength o' the Leonati in me! To shame the guise o' the world, I'll begin The fashion, less without and more within.

He is hurrying off when he is confronted with Iachimo, battle stained, hurrying in the opposite direction. Seeing a British enemy he draws his sword.

POSTHUMUS. Iachimo! Peace, man: 'tis I, Posthumus.

IACHIMO. Peace if you will. The battle's lost and won. Pass on.

POSTHUMUS. Do you not know me?

IACHIMO. No.

POSTHUMUS. Look closer. You have some reason to remember me And I to hate you. Yet we're sworn friends.

IACHIMO. By all the gods, Leonatus!

POSTHUMUS. At your service, Seducer of my wife.

IACHIMO. No more of that. Your wife, Posthumus, is a noble creature. I'll set your mind at rest upon that score.

POSTHUMUS. At rest! Can you then raise her from the grave? Where she lies dead to expiate our crime?

IACHIMO. Dead! How? Why? When? And expiate! What mean you?

POSTHUMUS. This only: I have had her murdered, I. And at my best am worser than her worst.

IACHIMO. We are damned for this. [On guard] Let's cut each other's throats.

POSTHUMUS [drawing] Ay, let us.

They fight furiously. Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pisiano, with Lucius and Imogen as Fidele: both of them prisoners guarded by British soldiers.

BELARIUS [taking command instinctively] Part them there. Make

 fast the Roman.

Guiderius pounces on Iachimo and disarms him. Arviragus pulls Posthumus back.

ARVIRAGUS. In the King's presence sheath your sword, you lout.

IACHIMO. In the King's presence I must yield perforce; But as a person of some quality By rank a gentleman, I claim to be Your royal highness's prisoner, not this lad's.

LUCIUS. His claim is valid, sir. His blood is princely.

POSTHUMUS. 'Tis so: he's noble.

CYMBELINE. What art thou?

POSTHUMUS. A murderer.

IMOGEN. His voice! His voice! Oh, let me see his face. [She rushes to Posthumus and puts her hand on his face].

POSTHUMUS. Shall's have a play with this? There lies thy part [he knocks her down with a blow of his fist].

GUIDERIUS. Accursed churl: take that. [He strikes Posthumus and brings him down on one knee].

ARVIRAGUS. You dog, how dare you [threatening him].

POSTHUMUS. Soft, soft, young sirs. One at a time, an't please you. [He springs up and stands on the defensive].

PISANIO [interposing] Hands off my master! He is kin to the king.

POSTHUMUS [to Cymbeline] Call off your bulldogs, sir. Why all

 this coil

About a serving boy?

CYMBELINE. My son-in-law!

PISANIO. Oh, gentlemen, your help. My Lord Posthumus: You ne'er killed Imogen till now. Help! help!

IMOGEN. Oh, let me die. I heard my husband's voice Whom I thought dead; and in my ecstasy, The wildest I shall ever feel again, He met me with a blow.

POSTHUMUS. Her voice. 'Tis Imogen. Oh, dearest heart, thou livest. Oh, you gods, What sacrifice can pay you for this joy?

IMOGEN. You dare pretend you love me.

POSTHUMUS. Sweet, I dare Anything, everything. Mountains of mortal guilt That crushed me are now lifted from my breast. I am in heaven that was but now in hell. You may betray me twenty times again.

IMOGEN. Again! And pray, when have I e'er betrayed you?

POSTHUMUS. I had the proofs. There stands your paramour. Shall's have him home? I care not, since thou liv'st.

IMOGEN. My paramour! [To Iachimo] Oh, as you are a gentleman, Give him the lie.

IACHIMO. He knows no better, madam. We made a wager, he and I, in Italy That I should spend a night in your bedchamber.

IMOGEN [to Posthumus] You made this wager! And I'm married to you!

POSTHUMUS. I did. He won it.

IMOGEN. How? He never came Within my bedchamber.

IACHIMO. I spent a night there. It was the most uncomfortable night I ever passed.

IMOGEN. You must be mad, signor. Or else the most audacious of all liars That ever swore away a woman's honor.

IACHIMO. I think, madam, you do forget that chest.

IMOGEN. I forget nothing. At your earnest suit Your chest was safely housed in my chamber; But where were you?

IACHIMO. I? I was in the chest [Hilarious sensation]. And on one point I do confess a fault. I stole your bracelet while you were asleep.

POSTHUMUS. And cheated me out of my diamond ring!

IACHIMO. Both ring and bracelet had some magic in them That would not let me rest until I laid them On Mercury's altar. He's the god of thieves. But I can make amends. I'll pay for both At your own price, and add one bracelet more For the other arm.

POSTHUMUS. With ten thousand ducats Due to me for the wager you have lost.

IMOGEN. And this, you think, signors, makes good to me All you have done, you and my husband there!

IACHIMO. It remedies what can be remedied. As for the rest, it cannot be undone. We are a pitiable pair. For all that You may go further and fare worse; for men Will do such things to women.

IMOGEN. You at least Have grace to know yourself for what you are. My husband thinks that all is settled now And this a happy ending!

POSTHUMUS. Well, my dearest, What could I think? The fellow did describe The mole upon your breast.

IMOGEN. And thereupon You bade your servant kill me.

POSTHUMUS. It seemed natural.

IMOGEN. Strike me again; but do not say such things.

GUIDERIUS. An if you do, by Thor's great hammer stroke I'll kill you, were you fifty sons-in-law.

BELARIUS. Peace, boy: we're in the presence of the king.

IMOGEN. Oh, Cadwal, Cadwal, you and Polydore, My newfound brothers, are my truest friends. Would either of you, were I ten times faithless, Have sent a slave to kill me?

GUIDERIUS [shuddering] All the world Should die first.

ARVIRAGUS. Whiles we live, Fidele, Nothing shall harm you.

POSTHUMUS. Child: hear me out. Have I not told you that my guilty conscience Had almost driven me mad when heaven opened And you appeared? But prithee, dearest wife, How did you come to think that I was dead?

IMOGEN. I cannot speak of it: it is too dreadful. I saw a headless man drest in your clothes.

GUIDERIUS. Pshaw! That was Cloten: son, he said, to the king. I cut his head off.

CYMBELINE. Marry, the gods forefend! I would not thy good deeds should from my lips Pluck a hard sentence: prithee, valiant youth, Deny 't again.

GUIDERIUS. I have spoke it, and I did it.

CYMBELINE. He was a prince.

GUIDERIUS. A most incivil one: the wrongs he did me Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me With language that would make me spurn the sea If it could so roar to me. I cut off 's head; And am right glad he is not standing here To tell this tale of mine.

CYMBELINE. I am sorry for thee: By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must Endure our law: thou 'rt dead. Bind the offender, And take him from our presence.

BELARIUS. Stay, sir king: This man is better than the man he slew, As well descended as thyself, and hath More of thee merited than a band of Clotens Had ever scar for. [To the Guard] Let his arms alone, They were not born for bondage.

CYMBELINE. Why, old soldier, Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, By tasting of our wrath? How of descent As good as we?

GUIDERIUS. In that he spake too far.

CYMBELINE. And thou shalt die for 't.

BELARIUS. We will die all three: But I will prove that two on 's are as good As I have given out him.

CYMBELINE. Take him away. The whole world shall not save him.

BELARIUS. Not so hot. First pay me for the nursing of thy sons; And let it be confiscate all so soon As I've received it.

CYMBELINE. Nursing of my sons!

BELARIUS. I am too blunt and saucy: here's my knee. Ere I arise I will prefer my sons. Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir: These two young gentlemen that call me father, And think they are my sons, are none of mine. They are the issue of your loins, my liege, And blood of your begetting.

CYMBELINE. How? my issue?

BELARIUS. So sure as you your father's. These your princes (For such and so they are) these twenty years Have I train'd up: those arts they have as I Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as Your highness knows. Come hither, boys, and pay Your loves and duties to your royal sire.

GUIDERIUS. We three are fullgrown men and perfect strangers. Can I change fathers as I'd change my shirt?

CYMBELINE. Unnatural whelp! What doth thy brother say?

ARVIRAGUS. I, royal sir? Well, we have reached an age When fathers' helps are felt as hindrances. I am tired of being preached at.

CYMBELINE [to Belarius] So, sir, this Is how you have bred my puppies.

GUIDERIUS. He has bred us To tell the truth and face it.

BELARIUS. Royal sir: I know not what to say: not you nor I Can tell our children's minds. But pardon him. If he be overbold the fault is mine.

GUIDERIUS. The fault, if fault there be, is in my Maker. I am of no man's making. I am I: Take me or leave me.

IACHIMO [to Lucius] Mark well, Lucius, mark. There spake the future king of this rude island.

GUIDERIUS. With you, Sir Thief, to tutor me? No, no: This kingly business has no charm for me. When I lived in a cave methought a palace Must be a glorious place, peopled with men Renowned as councillors, mighty as soldiers, As saints a pattern of holy living, And all at my command were I a prince. This was my dream. I am awake today. I am to be, forsooth, another Cloten, Plagued by the chatter of his train of flatterers, Compelled to worship priest invented gods, Not free to wed the woman of my choice, Being stopped at every turn by some old fool Crying "You must not", or, still worse, "You must". Oh no, sir: give me back the dear old cave And my unflattering four footed friends. I abdicate, and pass the throne to Polydore.

ARVIRAGUS. Do you, by heavens? Thank you for nothing, brother.

CYMBELINE. I'm glad you're not ambitious. Seated monarchs Do rarely love their heirs. Wisely, it seems.

ARVIRAGUS. Fear not, great sir: we two have never learnt To wait for dead men's shoes, much less their crowns.

GUIDERIUS. Enough of this. Fidele: is it true Thou art a woman, and this man thy husband?

IMOGEN. I am a woman, and this man my husband. He would have slain me.

POSTHUMUS. Do not harp on that.

CYMBELINE. God's patience, man, take your wife home to bed. You're man and wife: nothing can alter that. Are there more plots to unravel? Each one here, It seems, is someone else. [To Imogen] Go change your dress For one becoming to your sex and rank. Have you no shame?

IMOGEN. None.

CYMBELINE. How? None!

IMOGEN. All is lost. Shame, husband, happiness, and faith in Man. He is not even sorry.

POSTHUMUS. I'm too happy.

IACHIMO. Lady: a word. When you arrived just now I, as you saw, was hot on killing him. Let him bear witness that I drew on him To avenge your death.

IMOGEN. Oh, do not make me laugh. Laughter dissolves too many just resentments, Pardons too many sins.

IACHIMO. And saves the world A many thousand murders. Let me plead for him. He has his faults; but he must suffer yours. You are, I swear, a very worthy lady; But still, not quite an angel.

IMOGEN. No, not quite, Nor yet a worm. Subtle Italian villain! I would that chest had smothered you.

IACHIMO. Dear lady It very nearly did.

IMOGEN. I will not laugh. I must go home and make the best of it As other women must.

POSTHUMUS. Thats all I ask. [He clasps her].

BELARIUS. The fingers of the powers above do tune The harmony of this peace.

LUCIUS. Peace be it then. For by this gentleman's report and mine I hope imperial Cæsar will reknit His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west.

CYMBELINE. Laud we the gods. And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils From our blest altars. Publish we this peace To all our subjects. Set we forward: let A Roman and a British ensign wave Friendly together: so through Lud's town march, And in the temple of great Jupiter Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts. Set on there! Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace.

[Curtain]

THE END