Why I Must Die and if I Do Not by Thy Hand Thou Art

Cymbeline Translation Act 3, Scene four

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IMOGEN

Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the identify Was virtually at manus: ne'er long'd my female parent then To see me kickoff, as I take at present. Pisanio! human! Where is Posthumus? What is in thy heed, That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh From the inwards of thee? Ane, simply painted thus, Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd Beyond self-explication: put thyself Into a havior of less fear, ere wildness Vanquish my staider senses. What's the affair? Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with A await untender? If't be summer news, Grinning to't before; if winterly, thou demand'st Simply continue that countenance even so. My hubby's mitt! That drug-damn'd Italia hath out-craftied him, And he'south at some hard bespeak. Speak, man: thy tongue May take off some extremity, which to read Would exist even mortal to me.

IMOGEN

You told me, when nosotros got off the horses, that we were almost there. My mother never wanted to see me as much earlier I was built-in as I want to run into my husband now. Pisanio! My man! Where is Posthumus? What is it y'all're thinking that makes you stare like that? Why are y'all sighing? A painting of someone making that confront would be described as someone helplessly dislocated. Look less afraid, or I'll get scared. What'due south the matter? Why are you handing me that paper with such a hateful look? If it'southward adept news, smile. If it'south bad, but keep looking the way you do at present. My husband's handwriting! Poisonous Italy has washed something bad to him, and he's in trouble. Speak! You might exist able to tell me bad news in a kind fashion that would make it seem less bad, fifty-fifty if reading it would kill me.

PISANIO

Please yous, read; And you lot shall discover me, wretched man, a thing The most disdain'd of fortune.

PISANIO

Please, read this. You'll find out I'm the almost unlucky homo in the earth.

IMOGEN

[Reads] 'Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises, but from proof every bit strong as my grief and as certain as I look my revenge. That part thou, Pisanio, must human activity for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the alienation of hers. Permit thine own hands take away her life: I shall give thee opportunity at Milford-Haven. She hath my letter for the purpose where, if thou fear to strike and to make me certain it is done, yard fine art the pandar to her dishonour and equally to me disloyal.'

IMOGEN

[Reading the letter]  "Your mistress, Pisanio, was unfaithful to me. I have proof of this that is very painful to me. I'm not saying this based on weak guesswork, but based on proof as strong equally my grief and as sure equally my revenge. You'll have to get that revenge for me, Pisanio, unless you're besides betraying me along with her. Kill her with your own hands. I volition requite you an opportunity at Milford-Haven. She has my alphabetic character setting this upwardly. If y'all are too afraid to attack her and tell me information technology's been washed, you're a pimp for her and every bit disloyal to me as she is."

PISANIO

What shall I need to depict my sword? the paper Hath cut her pharynx already. No, 'tis slander, Whose border is sharper than the sword, whose natural language Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose jiff Rides on the posting winds and doth belie All corners of the earth: kings, queens and states, Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters. What cheer, madam?

PISANIO

I don't even demand to describe my sword. This letter of the alphabet has already cut her pharynx. No, slander did, which has an border sharper than a sword, a tongue more poisonous than all the snakes in the Nile, and a vocalisation that rides on the winds and spreads lies to all the corners of the world. Slander reaches kings, queens, all royals, unmarried women, wives, and even gets into graves to prevarication about the dead. How are you lot feeling, ma'am?

IMOGEN

Faux to his bed! What is it to be false? To prevarication in watch there and to think on him? To cry 'twixt clock and clock? if sleep accuse nature, To suspension it with a fearful dream of him And cry myself awake? that'southward imitation to'southward bed, is it?

IMOGEN

Unfaithful to him? What does it hateful to exist unfaithful? To lie awake in bed and call up nigh him? To cry for an hour? If I fall asleep, to have a nightmare about him and wake up crying? Is that being unfaithful to him?

IMOGEN

I imitation! Thy censor witness: Iachimo, Yard didst accuse him of incontinency; Thou then look'dst like a villain; now methinks Thy favour's skilful enough. Some jay of Italy Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him: Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion; And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls, I must be ripp'd:—to pieces with me!— O, Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming, By thy defection, O husband, shall be thought Put on for villany; non born where't grows, Simply worn a bait for ladies.

IMOGEN

Me, unfaithful! You should be ashamed. Iachimo, you lot accused him of being unfaithful. You seemed similar a bad man to me then, but at present you seem fine. Some loose woman in Italy, who had no female parent except her makeup, lied to him. I'm out of appointment at present, like clothes that are out of fashion. Because I'thousand too expensive a piece of vesture to use to pad walls, I accept to be ripped to pieces! Oh, men'south promises betray women! Now, because of your betrayal, husband, all men who seem good volition be assumed to be lying for some  criminal purpose, their expert qualities not natural to them but just allurement to take hold of women.

PISANIO

Good madam, hear me.

PISANIO

Ma'am, listen to me.

IMOGEN

True honest men being heard, similar false Aeneas, Were in his time thought false, and Sinon's weeping Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity From most true wretchedness: so thou, Posthumus, Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men; Goodly and gallant shall be simulated and perjured From thy nifty autumn. Come, fellow, be thou honest: Do yard thy master'south bidding: when chiliad see'st him, A little witness my obedience: look! I draw the sword myself: accept it, and hit The innocent mansion of my love, my heart; Fearfulness not; 'tis empty of all things but grief; Thy principal is not at that place, who was indeed The riches of it: practise his bidding; strike K mayst be valiant in a ameliorate crusade; Merely now thou seem'st a coward.

IMOGEN

After Aeneas betrayed his lover, honest men were assumed to exist lying. Sinon's faux crying slandered many people's real tears, and fabricated people not feel compassion for actual sadness. You, Posthumus, volition infect all honest men with your wickedness. Good, gallant men volition be seen as lying and unfaithful afterwards your terrible failure. Come on, Pisanio, be a good servant and exercise what your master told you to. When y'all see him, tell him a footling about how obedient I was. Await! I'g taking out the sword myself. Take information technology, and hit the innocent firm of of my beloved, my heart. Don't be afraid. It'south empty of annihilation just sadness. Your chief is non in that location, and he was the only treasure in it. Do as he says. Stab me. You lot might be brave when you're asked to practice something ameliorate than this, but at present you seem like a coward.

PISANIO

Hence, vile instrument! Thousand shalt not damn my hand.

PISANIO

[Throwing the sword away]Get abroad, terrible object! You won't damn my mitt.

IMOGEN

Why, I must dice; And if I do not by thy hand, thou art No servant of thy master'southward. Against self-slaughter At that place is a prohibition so divine That cravens my weak hand. Come up, here'south my heart. Something's afore't. Soft, soft! we'll no defence; Obedient equally the scabbard. What is here? The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus, All turn'd to heresy? Away, abroad, Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more Exist stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor fools Believe false teachers: though those that are beguile'd Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor Stands in worse case of woe. And k, Posthumus, 1000 that didst set My disobedience 'gainst the king my begetter And brand me put into contempt the suits Of princely fellows, shalt future find It is no act of common passage, simply A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself To remember, when thou shalt be disedged by her That now thou tirest on, how thy memory Will and so be pang'd past me. Prithee, dispatch: The lamb entreats the butcher: where's thy knife? 1000 art too deadening to practice thy primary's bidding, When I desire it too.

IMOGEN

I take to die. If you don't practise it, you can't be called your master'southward servant. It's such a terrible sin to kill yourself that I'one thousand too afraid to do it. Come on, here'southward my heart. There'south something in front of information technology. No, wait! There should exist nix protecting it. I'thou as willing to have a sword put in me as a scabbard is. What's in hither? The holy writings of Leonatus, which have turned out to exist unholy? Become away, go abroad, you're tempting me to sin! I won't wear yous over my heart anymore! Foolish people believe liars so easily. Although the people who are betrayed pay the consequences of the betrayal, the betrayer is in an fifty-fifty worse state of affairs. You lot, Posthumus, you made me disobey the king my begetter and made me reject the proposals of princes of my own class. Y'all'll discover out soon enough that non everyone would do these things. I'm sad to think that when the woman you're with now dumps you, you'll call back me and feel sorry. Keep, do information technology. The lamb is begging the butcher to kill it. Where'due south your knife? Y'all're too slow to exercise what your principal wants even though I want it too.

PISANIO

O gracious lady, Since I received control to practice this business organisation I have not slept i wink.

PISANIO

Good lady, ever since I was ordered to do this I haven't slept a flash.

IMOGEN

Do't, and to bed and so.

IMOGEN

Practise information technology, then get to bed.

PISANIO

I'll wake mine eye-assurance bullheaded commencement.

PISANIO

I'd rather stay awake until I was blind.

IMOGEN

Wherefore and then Didst undertake it? Why hast thou driveling So many miles with a pretence? this identify? Mine activeness and thine own? our horses' labour? The time inviting thee? the adjy'd court, For my being absent? whereunto I never Purpose return. Why hast g gone so far, To be unbent when k hast ta'en thy stand up, The elected deer before thee?

IMOGEN

And then why did y'all start this? Why did you lie to me to get me to come so many miles? To this place? Why did we do all this? Why make our horses work so difficult? Why look so long? Why let the court get upset most my absence? I'll never go dorsum there. Why take you gone this far, only to change your mind when you were nigh to do it, and your victim was in front end of you like a deer you were hunting?

PISANIO

Simply to win time To lose and so bad employment; in the which I have consider'd of a form. Good lady, Hear me with patience.

PISANIO

Just to win some time to think almost how to get out of doing this terrible matter. And I've thought of something in that time. Mind to me patiently.

IMOGEN

Talk thy tongue weary; speak I have heard I am a strumpet; and mine ear Therein false struck, can take no greater wound, Nor tent to lesser that. Simply speak.

IMOGEN

Talk every bit much every bit yous want, go on. I have read that I am a prostitute, and my ear, injured by that lie, can't be wounded whatsoever more than than that, or cured. Merely talk.

PISANIO

Then, madam, I thought you lot would not dorsum again.

PISANIO

Then, ma'am, I thought you wouldn't get back.

IMOGEN

Most like; Bringing me here to kill me.

IMOGEN

That makes sense, since you were bringing me hither to impale me.

PISANIO

Not and then, neither: But if I were as wise as honest, then My purpose would prove well. It cannot be But that my master is abused: Some villain, ay, and singular in his art. Hath washed you both this cursed injury.

PISANIO

No, non at all. But if I'm equally wise as I am honest, this plan will end well. My master must have been lied to. Some criminal, really good at doing what he does, has told this lie nigh y'all.

IMOGEN

Some Roman courtezan.

IMOGEN

Some Roman prostitute.

PISANIO

No, on my life. I'll requite just notice you are expressionless and ship him Some encarmine sign of information technology; for 'tis allowable I should exercise so: you shall exist miss'd at court, And that will well confirm it.

PISANIO

No, I promise. I'll tell him you are dead and transport him some blood-covered affair to prove information technology, because that's what he'due south ordered me to do. Your absenteeism at court will be noticed, and that will make it seem true.

IMOGEN

Why expert young man, What shall I practise the while? where bide? how alive? Or in my life what comfort, when I am Dead to my husband?

IMOGEN

My expert man, what will I do in all that time? Where will I live? How will I support myself? And how volition I be able to stand my life, when my husband wants me dead?

PISANIO

If y'all'll back to the courtroom—

PISANIO

If you want to go back to the court—

IMOGEN

No court, no male parent; nor no more ado With that harsh, noble, simple nothing, That Cloten, whose love-adapt hath been to me As fearful as a siege.

IMOGEN

No court, no father. And I don't want to deal anymore with that mean, noble, stupid, no i, Cloten, whose attempt to win me over was equally terrible every bit existence attacked.

PISANIO

If not at court, Then non in Uk must you bide.

PISANIO

If you don't want to go back to court, you shouldn't stay in Britain.

IMOGEN

Where then Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night, Are they not but in Britain? I' the world's volume Our Great britain seems as of it, but not in 't; In a great puddle a swan's nest: prithee, recollect There'southward livers out of Britain.

IMOGEN

Then where should I go? Is Britain the only place where sunday shines? Is it the only place with day and night? Compared to the whole earth, Britain seems like part of it but separate from it. It'due south like a swan's nest in a huge lake. Please, remember there are people who live exterior of Britain.

PISANIO

I am virtually glad Y'all think of other place. The ambassador, Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven To-morrow: now, if you could wear a mind Nighttime equally your fortune is, and but disguise That which, to appear itself, must non yet be Merely by self-danger, yous should tread a course Pretty and total of view; yea, haply, near The residence of Posthumus; and then nearly at least That though his deportment were not visible, yet Study should render him hourly to your ear As truly as he moves.

PISANIO

I am glad you lot're thinking virtually other countries. The Roman ambassador, Lucius, is coming to Milford-Haven tomorrow. If you lot could exist secretive given your bad situation, and vesture a disguise because your real appearance could merely put you lot in danger, you could go where you want to go safely. Yes, you could fifty-fifty terminate up next to where Posthumus is staying. Close plenty at to the lowest degree that although y'all couldn't see him, you lot would hear every 60 minutes about whatever he was doing.

IMOGEN

O, for such means! Though peril to my modesty, non death on't, I would chance.

IMOGEN

What wouldn't I do for that information! This puts my reputation in danger, only it isn't necessarily mortiferous to it.

PISANIO

Well, then, here's the indicate: Yous must forget to be a woman; change Control into obedience: fear and niceness— The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, Woman its pretty cocky—into a waggish courage: Gear up in gibes, quick-respond'd, saucy and Equally quarrelous every bit the weasel; nay, you lot must Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek, Exposing it—merely, O, the harder heart! Alack, no remedy!—to the greedy bear upon Of common-kissing Titan, and forget Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein Yous made great Juno angry.

PISANIO

Well then, here's what I recommend: you should terminate beingness a woman, and exchange obedience for commands, fear and sensitivity (which are natural to women, or really, which are the essence of being a woman) for mischievous backbone. Y'all should be quick to insult people and talk back. Be rude and as trigger-happy as a weasel. Y'all should stop protecting your pare (what a terrible matter, just it'due south the but way!), and let the lord's day polish on it as it does on anybody else. And you lot should requite upward all the work y'all put every day into primping, which makes the goddess Juno aroused.

IMOGEN

Nay, be brief I come across into thy terminate, and am nigh A man already.

IMOGEN

All right, that's plenty. I see what you're getting at, and I'one thousand already almost done becoming a man.

PISANIO

First, make yourself simply like one. Fore-thinking this, I have already fit— 'Tis in my cloak-bag—doublet, chapeau, hose, all That answer to them: would yous in their serving, And with what faux yous can borrow From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius Present yourself, desire his service, tell him wherein you're happy,—which you'll make him know, If that his head have ear in music,—doubtless With joy he will embrace you, for he's honourable And doubling that, nigh holy. Your means away, You have me, rich; and I volition never fail Beginning nor supplyment.

PISANIO

First, merely make yourself look like one. Planning on this, I already found a jacket, hat, and pants that will fit you. They're in my bag. Wearing them and interim as much similar a man every bit you can, introduce yourself to noble Lucius, ask to be his retainer, and tell him what yous're good at. You can show him, if he knows anything about music. I'm sure he'll be glad to help you lot considering he's honorable and, moreover, very religious. He'll pay for your travel abroad and I'll help with anything I tin can.

IMOGEN

One thousand fine art all the comfort The gods will diet me with. Prithee, away: There's more to be consider'd; simply we'll even All that good fourth dimension volition requite us: this endeavour I am soldier to, and will abide it with A prince'due south courage. Away, I prithee.

IMOGEN

You're the only comfort the gods have given me now. Come on, let'southward go. We have more to remember virtually, but we'll set everything right as far as nosotros can. I will practise my best at this, and I'll be as brave equally a prince. Permit's go, please.

PISANIO

Well, madam, we must take a short farewell, Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress, Here is a box; I had it from the queen: What's in't is precious; if yous are sick at sea, Or tummy-qualm'd at land, a dram of this Will drive abroad distemper. To some shade, And fit you to your manhood. May the gods Directly y'all to the all-time!

PISANIO

Well, ma'am, I have to say good-farewell for now, because if they realize I'g gone from court they'll suspect me of helping you escape. Hither'due south a box. I got information technology from the queen. What'south in it is worth a lot. If yous're body of water-ill, or just have a stomach-ache on state, a mouthful of this will cure yous. Find somewhere to hibernate, and become a man. May the gods protect you!

IMOGEN

Amen: I thank thee.

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Source: https://www.litcharts.com/shakescleare/shakespeare-translations/cymbeline/act-3-scene-4

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