EXT.FOREST CLEARING.EVENING
WIDE: CLEARING
POSTHUMUS runs in stumbling and tripping with a bewildered and pained look on his face. He is dressed in Italian clothing and is holding a bloody handkerchief. He runs to the center of the clearing and looks at the handkerchief.
CUT-IN: POSTHUMUS STANDING
POSTHUMUS is crying and distraught. As the dialogue progresses he looks away from the cloth and back again in clear emotional stress. The setting sun shines clearly on his face with darkness and near night behind him amongst the shadows of the trees.
POSTHUMUS
(emotionally laced with defeat)
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 lived to put on this: so had you saved
The noble Imogen to repent, and struck
Me, wretch more worth your vengeance.
He falls to the ground on his knees with despair still clutching the handkerchief.
EXTREME CLOSE UP: POSTHUMUS
A tear runs down his cheek and drops.
EXTREME CLOSE UP: HANDKERCHIEF
We see the handkerchief in his hands with an embroidered I(standing for Imogen) showing amongst the folds of cloth. And as we view the handkerchief we see the tear fall from the top of the view down onto the I and soak into the cloth.
MEDIUM CLOSE UP: POSTHUMUS KNEELING
POSTHUMUS
(woefully)
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. Therefore, good heavens,
He stands slowly with purpose and begins to walk slowly around the clearing.
POSTHUMUS
(with building mixture of purpose and defeat)
Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me
Of these Italian weeds and suit myself
As does a Briton 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' the Leonati in me!
EXTREME CLOSE UP: POSTHUMUS
With a thoughtful look upon his face.
POSTHUMUS
To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin
The fashion, less without and more within.
EXT.BATTLEFIELD.DAY
EXTREME WIDE SHOT: ARMIES CLASHING
We see the the Roman and Briton armies from an elevated view advancing towards each other in rapid progression. The Roman and Briton armies come together with a violent collision of metal on metal as swords and pikes parry and strike to make the killing or injuring blow on either horse or man. The armies continue roiling with vengeance to advance further into each others armies in order to break the ranks of the opposing side.
OVER THE SHOULDER: POSTHUMUS
POSTHUMUS in a battle ready position slightly away from the larger battle lunges for IACHIMO who is his opponent opposite him. The camera follows behind him as he attempts blow after blow on IACHIMO who parries his blows.
MEDIUM: POSTHUMUS AND IACHIMO
IACHIMO still backing away from POSTHUMUS' frenzy of blows, trips over a jutting root and falls to the ground dropping his sword.
CLOSE UP: IACHIMO LYING ON THE GROUND
After falling IACHIMO scrambles away on his back looking left and right and feeling for his sword so that he might grab it and attempt to parry.
MEDIUM: POSTHUMUS AND IACHIMO
POSTHUMUS approaches IACHIMO and raises his sword for the killing blow. In the distance there is an unintelligible call louder than the regular din of the battle. POSTHUMUS turns his head toward the sound thinking somebody might be coming. He then lowers his sword, gives IACHIMO a disdaining look, and runs off.
CLOSE UP: PROFILE OF IACHIMO WITH BATTLE IN THE BACKGROUND
IACHIMO with fear plain on his face and a defeated slump to his body rests against a stump
IACHIMO
(dejectedly)
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 subdued 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.
CUTAWAY: ENTIRE BATTLEFIELD
With a view of the battle we see that the Romans are surrounding the Britons and that they will soon take them by force of numbers. We also see that some of the Britons have noticed the looming defeat and are abandoning.
CUT-IN: CYMBELINE AND HIS OFFICERS
CYMBELINE at the front of a feeble final charge fighting violently against the Romans is abandoned by his supporting officers as they begin to realize that they will not win this battle.
MEDIUM: CYMBELINE IN BATTLE
As CYMBELINE turns to call for assistance and encourage his officers forward he realizes that he has been abandoned. The Romans, recognizing an opening, lunge at him and disarm him and begin to take him away.
As the capture party is moving away BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS side-swipe the party and begin attacking the Romans furiously.
BELARIUS
(bravely)
Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the ground;
The lane is guarded: nothing routs us but
The villainy of our fears.
ARVIRAGUS
(in support)
Stand, stand, and fight!
The three continue attacking the Roman capturers felling several before POSTHUMUS stumbles into the battle with vengeance. The four together overtake the Roman capturers and release CYMBELINE.
BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS take CYMBELINE and run from the battle towards the protection of the Briton front lines. POSTHUMUS stumbles in a direction neither towards the Romans nor the Britons and heads into the surrounding forrest.
CUTAWAY: BRITON ARMY
With newly revived vigor at the rescue and return of their king the Briton army leads another charge taking more force over the Roman army.
CUT-IN: LUCIUS, IACHIMO, AND IMOGEN
IACHIMO and IMOGEN stand behind the battle lines on the Roman side. LUCIUS sending one more quick blow backs away from the front lines and lets his officers take up the battle in his place. He backs away and turns toward IMOGEN.
LUCIUS
(intently)
Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself;
For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such
As war were hoodwink'd.
IACHIMO
(excusingly)
'Tis their fresh supplies.
LUCIUS
(perplexed)
It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes
Let's reinforce, or fly.
EXT.CROSSROADS.DAY
WIDE-STILL-SHOT: POSTHUMUS RUNNING
From a distance we see POSTHUMUS running frantically and bewilderingly towards the camera and the crossroads. As he approaches the crossroads of stone he looks both ways and stops in the middle. From another direction a Briton Lord approaches.
LORD
(suspiciously)
Camest thou from where they made the stand?
POSTHUMUS
(also suspiciously)
I did.
Though you, it seems, come from the fliers.
LORD
I did.
POSTHUMUS
(reassuringly)
No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost,
As POSTHUMUS delivers the next explanation of what happened on the battlefield, we flashback to the battle viewing the frightened fleeing Britons through the lane as POSTHUMUS envisions it for the Lord.
POSTHUMUS
But that the heavens fought: the king himself
Of his wings destitute, the army broken,
And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying
Through a straight lane; the enemy full-hearted,
Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work
More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down
Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling
Merely through fear; that the straight pass was damm'd
With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living
To die with lengthen'd shame.
CUT-TO: POSTHUMUS AND LORD AT CROSSROADS
We come back from the flashback and see again the Lord and POSTHUMUS conversing at the crossroads.
LORD
Where was this lane?
POSTHUMUS
Close by the battle, ditched, and walled with turf;
Again we flash back to the battle this time viewing the descriptions of ARVIRAGUS, BELARIUS, and GUIDERIUS as described by POSTHUMUS. We see the determination and battle frenzy on their faces as they rescue CYMBELINE. Furthermore in the flashback as POSTHUMUS describes their battle cries we see them mouth them along with POSTHUMUS'.
POSTHUMUS
(majestically)
Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier,
An honest one, I warrant; who deserved
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 cased, 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,
Three thousand confident, in act as many--
For three performers are the file when all
The rest do nothing--with this word 'Stand, stand,'
Accommodated by the place, more charming
With their own nobleness, which could have turn'd
A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks,
Part shame, part spirit renew'd; that some,
turn'd coward
But by example--O, a sin in war,
Damn'd in the first beginners!--gan to look
The way that they did, and to grin like lions
As the next part of the speech switches to the escape we view the three rescuers and CYMBELINE running along the lane in full triumph of escape.
POSTHUMUS
(buildingly as the rescuers escape)
Upon the pikes o' the hunters. Then began
A stop i' the chaser, a retire, anon
A rout, confusion thick; forthwith they fly
Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves,
The strides they victors made: and now our cowards,
Like fragments in hard voyages, became
The life o' the need: having found the backdoor open
Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound!
We cut back to POSTHUMUS and the Lord with POSTHUMUS fully into the story of the rescue and the Lord raptured with attention. POSTHUMUS is withdrawn his eyes are unfocused as he sees into the past of the battle that took place.
POSTHUMUS
(reflectively)
Some slain before; some dying; some their friends
O'er borne i' the former wave: ten, chased by one,
Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty:
Those that would die or ere resist are grown
The mortal bugs o' the field.
LORD
This was strange chance: A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys
POSTHUMUS
(reprimanding of the Lord's remarks)
Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made
Rather to wonder at the things you hear
Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't,
And vent it for a mockery? Here is one:
'Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane,
Preserved the Britons, was the Romans' bane.'
LORD
(defensiively)
Nay, be not angry, sir.
POSTHUMUS
'Lack, to what end?
Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend;
For if he'll do as he is made to do,
I know he'll quickly fly my friendship too.
You have put me into rhyme.
OVER THE SHOULDER: POSTHUMUS LOOKING ON THE LORD
LORD
(dismissively)
Farewell. You're angry.
The Lord runs off down one of the four roads of the crossroads and POSTHUMUS is left alone. As he delivers the next speech the camera circles him slowly zooming away giving view to the surrounding open area and the crossroads that POSTHUMUS is standing in the middle of.
POSTHUMUS
(angry at first with continued resignation)
Still going? This is a lord! O noble misery,
To be i' the field, and ask 'what news?' of me!
To-day how many would have given their honours
To have saved their carcasses! took heel to do't,
And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd,
Could not find death where I did hear him groan,
Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly monster,
'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,
Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we
That draw his knives i' the war. Well, I will find him
For being now a favourer to the Briton,
No more a Briton, I have resumed again
The part I came in: fight I will no more,
But yield me to the veriest hind that shall
Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is
Here made by the Roman; great the answer be
Britons must take. For me, my ransom's death;
On either side I come to spend my breath;
Which neither here I'll keep nor bear again,
But end it by some means for Imogen.
OVER THE SHOULDER: POSTHUMUS VIEWING TWO APPROACHING OFFICERS
As the two officers approach, POSTHUMUS continues to stand resignedly.
FIRST CAPTAIN
(without realizing POSTHUMUS standing at the crossroads)
Great Jupiter be praised! Lucius is taken.
'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels.
SECOND CAPTAIN
There was a fourth man, in a silly habit,
That gave the affront with them.
With this statement we cut to looking at the front of POSTHUMUS who gives a slight reaction to the mention of his help in the rescue of the King.
FIRST CAPTAIN
So 'tis reported:
But none of 'em can be found. Stand! who's there?
POSTHUMUS
(dejectedly with decision made)
A Roman,
Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds
Had answer'd him.
SECOND CAPTAIN
(approaching and grabbing POSTHUMUS)
Lay hands on him; a dog!
A leg of Rome shall not return to tell
What crows have peck'd them here. He brags
his service
As if he were of note: bring him to the king.
The two officers take POSTHUMUS away back the way they came leading him toward the Briton camp.
slow zoom out: an overhead view of the crossroads
INT.JAIL CELL
We see a gray barren look to the cell which consists of a large concrete table with straps in the center and stark corners with no windows to be seen.
Two jailers escort POSTHUMUS in and begin placing and tying him down to the table in the center.
FIRST JAILER
(laughing)
You shall not now be stol'n, you have locks upon you;
So graze as you find pasture.
SECOND JAILER
(also laughing)
Ay, or a stomach.
As the jailers continue laughing and poking POSTHUMUS tauntingly they finish strapping him in and leave the cell.
CUT-IN: POSTHUMUS LYING ON THE TABLE
POSTHUMUS
(with a resignated and dejected nature)
Most welcome, bondage! for thou art away,
think, to liberty: yet am I better
Than one that's sick o' the gout; since he had rather
Groan so in perpetuity than be cured
By the sure physician, death, who is the key
To unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fetter'd
More than my shanks and wrists: you good gods, give me
The penitent instrument to pick that bolt,
Then, free for ever! Is't enough I am sorry?
So children temporal fathers do appease;
Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent?
I cannot do it better than in gyves,
Desired more than constrain'd: to satisfy,
If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take
No stricter render of me than my all.
I know you are more clement than vile men,
Who of their broken debtors take a third,
A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again
On their abatement: that's not my desire:
For Imogen's dear life take mine; and though
'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it:
'Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp;
Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake:
You rather mine, being yours: and so, great powers,
If you will take this audit, take this life,
And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen!
I'll speak to thee in silence.
POSTHUMUS' head falls to the side as he falls asleep. Eerie solemn music begins and we cut away to one of the walls of the cell from which enter opaque apparitions of POSTHUMUS' deceased family. They circle the table making complaint on the situation that POSTHUMUS finds himself in.
SICILIUS
(with anger)
No more, thou thunder-master, show
Thy spite on mortal flies:
With Mars fall out, with Juno chide,
That thy adulteries
Rates and revenges.
Hath my poor boy done aught but well,
Whose face I never saw?
We see SICILIUS' apparition attempt to brush the cheek of POSTHUMUS as his hand goes right through POSTHUMUS' head.
SICILIUS
I died whilst in the womb he stay'd
Attending nature's law:
Whose father then, as men report
Thou orphans' father art,
Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him
From this earth-vexing smart.
As the next few members of his family continue to lament for the poor nature that POSTHUMUS has been left in and the life he has led we flash back to the situations that they describe viewing POSTHUMUS' birth, maturation as a man, and marriage to IMOGEN. Continuing, we see his subsequent exile and fall as he realizes IMOGEN's infedelity. All of this happens in quick succession as the apparitions continue their complaint.
MOTHER
Lucina lent not me her aid,
But took me in my throes;
That from me was Posthumus ript,
Came crying 'mongst his foes,
A thing of pity!
SICILIUS
Great nature, like his ancestry,
Moulded the stuff so fair,
That he deserved the praise o' the world,
As great Sicilius' heir.
1st brother
When once he was mature for man,
In Britain where was he
That could stand up his parallel;
Or fruitful object be
In eye of Imogen, that best
Could deem his dignity?
MOTHER
With marriage wherefore was he mock'd,
To be exiled, and thrown
From Leonati seat, and cast
From her his dearest one,
Sweet Imogen?
SICILIUS
Why did you suffer Iachimo,
Slight thing of Italy,
To taint his nobler heart and brain
With needless jealosy;
And to become the geck and scorn
O' th' other's villany?
At the end of this complaint we switch back to the view of the apparitions circling the table on which POSTHUMUS lies.
2nd brother
For this from stiller seats we came,
Our parents and us twain,
That striking in our country's cause
Fell bravely and were slain,
Our fealty and Tenantius' right
With honour to maintain.
1ST BROTHER
Like hardiment Posthumus hath
To Cymbeline perform'd:
Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods,
Why hast thou thus adjourn'd
The graces for his merits due,
Being all to dolours turn'd?
Coming to the foot of the table and looking upwards the apparitions make their final pleas to JUPITER for the redemption of their still living son and brother. The music builds with increasing intensity as each apparition makes their case.
SICILIUS
(with conviction)
Thy crystal window ope; look out;
No longer exercise
Upon a valiant race thy harsh
And potent injuries.
MOTHER
(pleadingly)
Since, Jupiter, our son is good,
Take off his miseries.
SICILIUS
(ensuing possible vengeance)
Peep through thy marble mansion; help;
Or we poor ghosts will cry
To the shining synod of the rest
Against thy deity.
BROTHERS
(coming to a climax of their pleas)
Help, Jupiter; or we appeal,
And from thy justice fly.
As the music reaches its peak and the camera is now panned looking directly down on the apparitions and POSTHUMUS still sleeping on the table behind, crashes and thunder make the room and camera shake and tremble. The apparitions with confusion fall to the ground on their knees.
CUTAWAY: THE CEILING
The ceiling disappears as we view the clouds above rolling with lightning and thunder and parting giving glimpses of rays of sunlight. And from a distance we see an abnormally large eagle flying with something on its back. As the eagle approaches we see a that what is on it's back is a majestic man dressed in robes with a well defined body, distinguished facial features, and white hair and beard. The eagle descends and the man jumps off and lands standing on the table over the body of POSTHUMUS while the eagle stands behind the apparitions in the corner of the cell.
JUPITER
(with a booming thundering voice)
No more, you petty spirits of region low,
Offend our hearing; hush! How dare you ghosts
Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know,
Sky-planted batters all rebelling coasts?
Poor shadows of Elysium, hence, and rest
Upon your never-withering banks of flowers:
Be not with mortal accidents opprest;
No care of yours it is; you know 'tis ours.
Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift,
The more delay'd, delighted. Be content;
Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift:
His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent.
Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in
Our temple was he married. Rise, and fade.
He shall be lord of lady Imogen,
And happier much by his affliction made.
JUPITER reaches within his robes and pulls out a small tablet with writing on it. As he continues his speech he hands the tablet down to SICILIUS who takes it reverently and holds on to it.
JUPITER
This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein
Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine:
and so, away: no further with your din
Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.
Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline.
The eagle jumps back onto the table and JUPITER mounts it yet again. They fly away and as the clouds close together to hide the heavens the ceiling slowly rematerializes.
CUT-IN: FAMILY OF APPARITIONS
As SICILIUS makes his next speech in reverence of JUPITER he slowly walks toward the side of the table and carefully places the tablet upon POSTHUMUS' chest.
SICILIUS
(reverently)
He came in thunder; his celestial breath
Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle
Stoop'd as to foot us: his ascension is
More sweet than our blest fields: his royal bird
Prunes the immortal wing and cloys his beak,
As when his god is pleased. The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd
His radiant roof. Away! and, to be blest,
Let us with care perform his great behest.
The apparitions hurriedly exit through one of the walls and we are left yet again with POSTHUMUS lying on the table. He slowly wakes with a bewildered nature. He recalls the scene that just happened within his cell as if it were a dream.
EXTREME CLOSE UP: POSTHUMUS
POSTHUMUS
Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire, and begot
A father to me; and thou hast created
A mother and two brothers: but, O scorn!
Gone! they went hence so soon as they were born:
And so I am awake. Poor wretches that depend
On greatness' favour dream as I have done,
Wake and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve:
Many dream not to find, neither deserve,
And yet are steep'd in favours: so am I,
That have this golden chance and know not why.
At this point he notices the tablet upon his chest and as he continues his speech he slowly is able to wiggle around to get the tablet to be pushed off of his body and onto the table next to him so that he might read it.
CLOSE UP: POSTHUMUS
POSTHUMUS
(struggling)
What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O rare one!
Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment
Nobler than that it covers: let thy effects
So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers,
As good as promise.
As the tablet lies next to his head he turns as much as possible to read it.
POSTHUMUS
(struggling to read)
'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown,
without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of
tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be
lopped branches, which, being dead many years,
shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock and
freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries,
Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.'
After finishing reading he turns his head back upward.
POSTHUMUS
'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen
Tongue and brain not; either both or nothing;
Or senseless speaking or a speaking such
As sense cannot untie. Be what it is,
The action of my life is like it, which
I'll keep, if but for sympathy.
CUTAWAY: DOOR OF CELL
A Jailer enters and approaches POSTHUMUS. He stands next to the table looking down on him.
JAILER
Come, sir, are you ready for death?
POSTHUMUS
(sarcastically)
Overroasted rather; ready long ago.
JAILER
(playing along)
Hanging is the word, sir: if
you be ready for that, you are well cooked.
POSTHUMUS
So, if I prove a good repast to the
spectators, the dish pays the shot.
As the JAILER makes the next speech on tavern bills and payments that POSTHUMUS won't have to worry over anymore he begins untying the straps holding him down.
JAILER
(comfortingly he tries to reconcile death)
A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is,
you shall be called to no more payments, fear no
more tavern-bills; which are often the sadness of
parting, as the procuring of mirth: you come in
flint for want of meat, depart reeling with too
much drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and
sorry that you are paid too much; purse and brain
both empty; the brain the heavier for being too
light, the purse too light, being drawn of
heaviness: of this contradiction you shall now be
quit. O, the charity of a penny cord! It sums up
thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and
creditor but it; of what's past, is, and to come,
the discharge: your neck, sir, is pen, book and
counters; so the acquittance follows.
POSTHUMUS
I am merrier to die than thou art to live.
JAILER
(admittingly)
Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the
tooth-ache: but a man that were to sleep your
sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he
would change places with his officer; for, look you,
sir, you know not which way you shall go.
POSTHUMUS
Yes, indeed do I, fellow.
JAILER
(admiringly at how committed POSTHUMUS is to death)
Your death has eyes in 's head then; I have not seen
him so pictured: you must either be directed by
some that take upon them to know, or do take upon
yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or
jump the after inquiry on your own peril: and how
you shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll
never return to tell one.
POSTHUMUS
I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to
direct them the way I am going, but such as wink and
will not use them.
JAILER
(surprised by the response)
What an infinite mock is this, that a man should
have the best use of eyes to see the way of
blindness! I am sure hanging's the way of winking.
The camera is now at the head of the table and looking towards both the JAILER and the door as the JAILER removes the last of the straps. The door bangs open and a messenger enters.
MESSENGER
Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the king.
POSTHUMUS
(praising)
Thou bring'st good news; I am called to be made free.
JAILER
I'll be hanged then.
POSTHUMUS
Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead.
The messenger and POSTHUMUS exit leaving the JAILER alone to contemplate his interaction with POSTHUMUS.
JAILER
Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young
gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my
conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live,
for all he be a Roman: and there be some of them
too that die against their wills; so should I, if I
were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one
mind good; O, there were desolation of gaolers and
gallowses! I speak against my present profit, but
my wish hath a preferment in 't.
INT.TENT.AFTERNOON
CYMBELINE walks into the tent followed closely by BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, and several other officers and Lords. They are all laughing and jovial at their good fortune following the battle. The tent is very spacious and pavilion-like with many furnishings and rich decorations.
MEDIUM: CYMBELINE AND HIS RESCUERS
CYMBELINE
(putting his arms around his three rescuers)
Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made
Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart
That the poor soldier that so richly fought,
Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked breast
Stepp'd before larges of proof, cannot be found:
He shall be happy that can find him, if
Our grace can make him so.
BELARIUS
(contemplatively)
I never saw
Such noble fury in so poor a thing;
Such precious deeds in one that promises nought
But beggary and poor looks.
CYMBELINE
No tidings of him?
PISANIO
(apologetically)
He hath been search'd among the dead and living,
But no trace of him.
CYMBELINE
To my grief, I am
The heir of his reward;
CYMBELINE turns and addresses his other three saviors.
CYMBELINE
which I will add
To you, the liver, heart and brain of Britain,
By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the time
To ask of whence you are. Report it.
CLOSE UP:BELARIUS
BELARIUS standing straighter with pride
BELARIUS
Sir,
In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen:
Further to boast were neither true nor modest,
Unless I add, we are honest.
MEDIUM: CYMBELINE FACING TOWARD HIS RESCUERS
As CYMBELINE commands them to kneel they kneel. CYMBELINE draws his sword and anoints them on their shoulders thereby making them knights.
CYMBELINE
Bow your knees.
Arise my knights o' the battle: I create you
Companions to our person and will fit you
With dignities becoming your estates.
CUTAWAY:Tent Entrance
In comes CORNELIUS and several ladies all looking distraught for some reason.
CYMBELINE
There's business in these faces. Why so sadly
Greet you our victory? you look like Romans,
And not o' the court of Britain.
CORNELIUS
(approaching CYMBELINE with concern)
Hail, great king!
To sour your happiness, I must report
The queen is dead.
CYMBELINE
(from jovial to dire)
Who worse than a physician
Would this report become? But I consider,
By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death
Will seize the doctor too. How ended she?
CORNELIUS
With horror, madly dying, like her life,
Which, being cruel to the world, concluded
Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd
I will report, so please you: these her women
Can trip me, if I err; who with wet cheeks
Were present when she finish'd.
CYMBELINE
Prithee say.
CORNELIUS
First, she confess'd she never loved you, only
Affected greatness got by you, not you:
Married your royalty, was wife to your place;
Abhorr'd your person. Also, Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love
With such integrity, she did confess
Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life,
But that her flight prevented it, she had
Ta'en off by poison.
CYMBELINE
O most delicate fiend!
Who is 't can read a woman? Is there more?
CORNELIUS
More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had
For you a mortal mineral; which, being took,
Should by the minute feed on life and lingering
By inches waste you: in which time she purposed,
By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to
O'ercome you with her show, and in time,
When she had fitted you with her craft, to work
Her son into the adoption of the crown:
But, failing of her end by his strange absence,
Grew shameless-desperate; open'd, in despite
Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented
The evils she hatch'd were not effected; so
Despairing died.
CYMBELINE
(turning toward the maidens who came in with CORNELIUS)
Heard you all this, her women?
LADY
We did, so please your highness
CYMBELINE
(distraught at his misfortune)
Mine eyes
Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;
Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart,
That thought her like her seeming; it had
been vicious
To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter!
That it was folly in me, thou mayst say,
And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!
At this point a series of more people enter including LUCIUS, IACHIMO, POSTHUMUS, IMOGEN, and the SOOTHSAYER. All are escorted by a number of Briton officers guarding them quite tightly.
CYMBELINE
(turning to the new comers)
Thou comest not, Caius, now for tribute that
The Britons have razed out, though with the loss
Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit
That their good souls may be appeased with slaughter
Of you their captives, which ourself have granted:
So think of your estate.
As LUCIUS speaks he pushes IMOGEN forward encouraging CYMBELINE to acknowledge her as a helpful page.
LUCIUS
Consider, sir, the chance of war: the day
Was yours by accident; had it gone with us,
We should not, when the blood was cool,
have threaten'd
Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods
Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives
May be call'd ransom, let it come: sufficeth
A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer:
Augustus lives to think on't: and so much
For my peculiar care. This one thing only
I will entreat; my boy, a Briton born,
Let him be ransom'd: never master had
A page so kind, so duteous, diligent,
So tender over his occasions, true,
So feat, so nurse-like: let his virtue join
With my request, which I make bold your highness
Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm,
Though he have served a Roman: save him, sir,
And spare no blood beside.
CYMBELINE
(looking upon IMOGEN consideringly)
I have surely seen him:
His favour is familiar to me. Boy,
Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace,
And art mine own. I know not why, wherefore,
To say 'live, boy:' ne'er thank thy master; live:
And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt,
Fitting my bounty and thy state, I'll give it;
Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner,
The noblest ta'en.
IMOGEN
(sheepishly)
I humbly thank your highness.
LUCIUS
I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad;
And yet I know thou wilt.
IMOGEN
No, no: alack,
There's other work in hand: I see a thing
Bitter to me as death: your life, good master,
Must shuffle for itself.
LUCIUS
The boy disdains me,
He leaves me, scorns me: briefly die their joys
That place them on the truth of girls and boys.
Why stands he so perplex'd?
CYMBELINE
What wouldst thou, boy?
I love thee more and more: think more and more
What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? speak,
Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? Thy friend?
IMOGEN
He is a Roman; no more kin to me
Than I to your highness; who, being born your vassal,
Am something nearer.
CYMBELINE
Wherefore eyest him so?
IMOGEN
I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please
To give me hearing.
CYMBELINE
Ay, with all my heart,
And lend my best attention. What's thy name?
IMOGEN
Fidele, sir.
CYMBELINE
Thou'rt my good youth, my page;
I'll be thy master: walk with me; speak freely.
CYMBELINE puts his arm around IMOGEN and they walk off further into the tent conferring quietly.
Meanwhile BELARIUS, ARVIRAGUS, and GUIDERIUS contemplate over the identity of IMOGEN whom they still think is the once thought dead FIDELE.
BELARIUS
(amazed)
Is not this boy revived from death?
ARVIRAGUS
One sand another
Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad
Who died, and was Fidele. What think you?
GUIDERIUS
(agreeing)
The same dead thing alive.
BELARIUS
Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; forbear;
Creatures may be alike: were 't he, I am sure
He would have spoke to us.
GUIDERIUS
But we saw him dead.
BELARIUS
Be silent; let's see further
We cut to a view of PISANIO quietly standing in the back contemplating to himself.
PISANIO
It is my mistress:
Since she is living, let the time run on
To good or bad.
CYMBELINE and IMOGEN return to the larger party and call IACHIMO forward to tell of what he has done.
CYMBELINE
Come, stand thou by our side;
Make thy demand aloud. Sir, step you forth;
Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
Or, by our greatness and the grace of it,
Which is our honour, bitter torture shall
Winnow the truth from falsehood. On, speak to him.
IACHIMO is roughly pushed to the center of the group of people where he stands unsuredly addressing CYMBELINE and IMOGEN.
IMOGEN
My boon is, that this gentleman may render
Of whom he had this ring.
CYMBELINE
That diamond upon your finger, say
How came it yours?
IACHIMO
(nervously)
Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that
Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.
CYMBELINE
How! me?
IACHIMO
I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that
Which torments me to conceal. By villany
I got this ring: 'twas Leonatus' jewel;
Whom thou didst banish; and--which more may
grieve thee,
As it doth me--a nobler sir ne'er lived
'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?
CYMBELINE
All that belongs to this.
IACHIMO
That paragon, thy daughter,--
For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits
Quail to remember--Give me leave; I faint.
IACHIMO falls to the ground at which CYMBELINE rushes to him out of anger and slaps him several times to revive him
CYMBELINE
(with eyebrows drawn down)
My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength:
I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will
Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak.
IACHIMO comes to and stands to address CYMBELINE.
IACHIMO
Your daughter's chastity--there it begins.
He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams,
And she alone were cold: whereat I, wretch,
Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with him
Pieces of gold 'gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain
In suit the place of's bed and win this ring
By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight,
No lesser of her honour confident
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle
Of Phoebus' wheel, and might so safely, had it
Been all the worth of's car. Away to Britain
Post I in this design: well may you, sir,
Remember me at court; where I was taught
Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
'Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus quench'd
Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
'Gan in your duller Britain operate
Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent:
And, to be brief, my practise so prevail'd,
That I return'd with simular proof enough
To make the noble Leonatus mad,
By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus, and thus; averting notes
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,--
O cunning, how I got it!--nay, some marks
Of secret on her person, that he could not
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,
I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon--
At this IACHIMO glances upon POSTHUMUS who now recognizes that IACHIMO has recognized him
IACHIMO
(unbelievingly)
Methinks I see him now -
POSTHUMUS realizing he has been recognized advances upon IACHIMO who cowers away from him in fear.
POSTHUMUS
(with increasing intensity which leads to increasing despair as he bares his sorrow over the lost IMOGEN)
Ay, so thou dost,
Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing
That's due to all the villains past, in being,
To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out
For torturers ingenious: it is I
That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend
By being worse than they. I am Posthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter:--villain-like, I lie--
That caused a lesser villain than myself,
A sacrilegious thief, to do't: the temple
Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself.
Spit, and throw stone s, cast mire upon me, set
The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain
Be call'd Posthumus Leonitus; and
POSTHUMUS kneels at the center of the pavillion in despair.
POSTHUMUS
Be villany less than 'twas! O Imogen!
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!
IMOGEN
(rapidly approaching POSTHUMUS)
Peace, my lord; hear, hear--
POSTHUMUS at being approached by who he thinks is FIDELE stands and readies himself.
POSTHUMUS
Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page,
There lie thy part.
He strikes her and she falls to the ground. PISANIO distraught with worry over his mistress rushes forward to stop the violence.
PISANIO
O, gentlemen, help!
Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus!
You ne'er kill'd Imogen til now. Help, help!
Mine honour'd lady!
All the tent is in silence as PISANIO reveals the true identity of IMOGEN and as he weeps over her. IMOGEN awakens and realizes that PISANIO is attempting to console her. She pushes him away thinking it was he who attempted to kill her with poison.
IMOGEN
O, get thee from my sight;
Thou gavest me poison: dangerous fellow, hence!
Breathe not where princes are.
CYMBELINE amazed and unbelieving at what is conspiring in his tent steps forward unsuredly.
CYMBELINE
The tune of Imogen!
PISANIO
(consolingly to IMOGEN)
Lady,
The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if
That box I gave you was not thought by me
A precious thing: I had it from the queen.
IMOGEN
It poisoned me.
CORNELIUS
(rushing forward in realization)
O gods!
I left out one thing which the queen confess'd.
Which must approve thee honest: 'If Pisanio
Have,' said she, 'given his mistress that confection
Which I gave him for cordial, she is served
As I would serve a rat.' The queen, sir, very oft importuned me
To temper poisons for her, still pretending
The satisfaction of her knowledge only
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs,
Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease
The present power of life, but in short time
All offices of nature should again
Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it?
IMOGEN
Most like I did, for I was dead.
GUIDERIUS
This is sure Fidele.
IMOGEN
(to POSTHUMUS)
Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?
Think that you are upon a rock; and now
Throw me again.
POSTHUMUS
(in amazement)
Hang there like a fruit, my soul,
Till the tree die!
CYMBELINE
(rushing forward to embrace her as well)
How now, my flesh, my child!
What, makest thou me a dullard in this act?
Wilt thou not speak to me?
IMOGEN
(kneeling to CYMBELINE)
Your blessing, sir.
CYMBELINE
My tears that fall
Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,
Thy mother's dead.
IMOGEN
(rising)
I am sorry for't, my lord.
CYMBELINE
(dismissing)
O, she was nought; and long of her it was
That we meet here so strangely: but her son
Is gone, we know not how nor where.
PISANIO
My lord,
Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten,
Upon my lady's missing, came to me
With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and swore,
If I discover'd not which way she was gone,
It was my instant death. By accident,
had a feigned letter of my master's
Then in my pocket; which directed him
To seek her on the mountains near to Milford;
Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments,
Which he enforced from me, away he posts
With unchaste purpose and with oath to violate
My lady's honour: what became of him
I further know not.
GUIDERIUS
(stepping forward)
Let me end the story:
I slew him there.
CYMBELINE
He was a prince an thou had no right to kill! Bind him gaurds for he shall be hung
BELARIUS
Stay thy hand Great King.
BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS all stand together.
CYMBELINE
How, now? Tell. Why should I?
BELARIUS
Have at it then, by leave.
Thou hadst, great king, a subject who
Was call'd Belarius.
CYMBELINE
(recalling)
What of him? he is
A banish'd traitor.
BELARIUS
He it is that hath
Assumed this age; indeed a banish'd man;
I know not how a traitor.
CYMBELINE
Take him hence:
The whole world shall not save him.
BELARIUS
Not too hot:
First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;
And let it be confiscate all, so soon
As I have received it.
CYMBELINE
(disbelievingly)
Nursing of my sons?
BELARIUS
(kneeling to the king)
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. I, old Morgan,
Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd:
Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment
Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd
Was all the harm I did. These gentle 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. Their nurse, Euriphile,
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children
Upon my banishment: I moved her to't,
Having received the punishment before,
For that which I did then: beaten for loyalty
Excited me to treason: their dear loss,
The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shaped
Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir,
Here are your sons again; and I must lose
Two of the sweet'st companions in the world.
The benediction of these covering heavens
Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy
To inlay heaven with stars.
With this speech CYMBELINE becomes thankful of BELARIUS and helps him to rise to his feet where he embraces him wholeheartedly.
CYMBELINE
Thou weep'st, and speak'st.
The service that you three have done is more
Unlike than this thou tell'st. I lost my children:
If these be they, I know not how to wish
A pair of worthier sons.
BELARIUS
Be pleased awhile.
This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,
Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd
In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand
Of his queen mother, which for more probation
I can with ease produce.
CYMBELINE
(still slightly unsure)
Guiderius had
Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;
It was a mark of wonder.
BELARIUS
This is he;
Who hath upon him still that natural stamp:
It was wise nature's end in the donation,
To be his evidence now.
CYMBELINE
(very happily)
O, what, am I
A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother
Rejoiced deliverance more. Blest pray you be,
That, after this strange starting from your orbs,
may reign in them now! O Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.
IMOGEN
(turning to GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS)
No, my lord;
I have got two worlds by 't. O my gentle brothers,
Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter
But I am truest speaker you call'd me brother,
When I was but your sister; I you brothers,
When ye were so indeed.
CYMBELINE
O rare instinct!
When shall I hear all through? This fierce
abridgement
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which
Distinction should be rich in. Where? how lived You?
And when came you to serve our Roman captive?
How parted with your brothers? how first met them?
Why fled you from the court? and whither? These,
And your three motives to the battle, with
I know not how much more, should be demanded;
And all the other by-dependencies,
From chance to chance: but nor the time nor place
Will serve our long inter'gatories. See,
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen,
And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brother, me, her master, hitting
Each object with a joy: the counterchange
Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.
CYMBELINE turns to BELARIUS once more.
CYMBELINE
Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever.
IMOGEN
You are my father too, and did relieve me to see this gracious season.
CYMBELINE
All o'erjoy'd,
Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too,
For they shall taste our comfort.
IMOGEN
My good master, I will yet do you service.
LUCIUS
Happy be you!
CYMBELINE
The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought,
He would have well becomed this place, and graced
The thankings of a king.
POSTHUMUS
(stepping forward)
I am, sir,
The soldier that did company these three
In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for
The purpose I then follow'd. That I was he,
Speak, Iachimo: I had you down and might
Have made you finish.
IACHIMO
(kneeling)
I am down again:
But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee,
As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you,
Which I so often owe: but your ring first;
And here the bracelet of the truest princess
That ever swore her faith.
POSTHUMUS
Kneel not to me:
The power that I have on you is, to spare you;
The malice towards you to forgive you: live,
And deal with others better.
CYMBELINE
(with pleasure)
Nobly doom'd!
We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law;
Pardon's the word to all.
ARVIRAGUS
(to POSTHUMUS)
You holp us, sir,
As you did mean indeed to be our brother;
Joy'd are we that you are.
POSTHUMUS
Your servant, princes. Good my lord of Rome,
Call forth your soothsayer: as I slept, methought
Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back'd,
Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows
Of mine own kindred: when I waked, I found
This label on my bosom; whose containing
Is so from sense in hardness, that I can
Make no collection of it: let him show
His skill in the construction.
LUCIUS
Philarmonus!
SOOTHSAYER
(with a crackling voice)
Here, my good lord.
LUCIUS
Read, and declare the meaning.
The SOOTHSAYER takes the tablet from POSTHUMUS and settles herself on the ground to interpret its meaning.
SOOTHSAYER
When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself
unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a
piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar
shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many
years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old
stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end
his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in
peace and plenty.'
Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp;
The fit and apt construction of thy name,
Being Leonatus, doth import so much.
SOOTHSAYER (Cnt'd)
(to CYMBELINE)
The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,
Which we call 'mollis aer;' and 'mollis aer'
We term it 'mulier:' which 'mulier' I divine
Is this most constant wife; who, even now,
Answering the letter of the oracle,
SOOTHSAYER (CNT'D)
(to POSTHUMUS)
Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about
With this most tender air.
CYMBELINE
This hath some seeming
SOOTHSAYER
The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,
Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point
Thy two sons forth; who, by Belarius stol'n,
For many years thought dead, are now revived,
To the majestic cedar join'd, whose issue
Promises Britain peace and plenty.
CYMBELINE
(with content resignation)
Well
My peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius,
Although the victor, we submit to Caesar,
And to the Roman empire; promising
To pay our wonted tribute, from the which
We were dissuaded by our wicked queen;
Whom heavens, in justice, both on her and hers,
Have laid most heavy hand.
SOOTHSAYER
The fingers of the powers above do tune
The harmony of this peace. The vision
Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke
Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant
Is full accomplish'd; for the Roman eagle,
From south to west on wing soaring aloft,
Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o' the sun
So vanish'd: which foreshow'd our princely eagle,
The imperial Caesar, should again unite
His favour with the radiant Cymbeline,
Which shines here in the west.
As CYMBELINE speaks his final words we pan through all of the parties happily involved beginning to embrace and wonder over their great fortune at being reunited in such a way.
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.
CUTAWAY: POSTHUMUS and IMOGEN
As a final shot we see POSTHUMUS and IMOGEN staring into each others eyes as everybody around them in the pavillion embraces and celebrates their good fortune.
