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- Herausgeber: Passerino
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
Cymbeline,
also known as
The Tragedie of Cymbeline or
Cymbeline, King of Britain, is a play by
William Shakespeare set in Ancient Britain (c. 10–14)[a] and based on legends that formed part of the Matter of Britain concerning the early Celtic British King Cunobeline. Although listed as a tragedy in the First Folio, modern critics often classify Cymbeline as a romance or even a comedy. Like Othello and The Winter's Tale, it deals with the themes of innocence and jealousy. While the precise date of composition remains unknown, the play was certainly produced as early as 1611.
William Shakespeare (26 April 1564 – 23 April 1616) was an English playwright, poet, and actor, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's greatest dramatist. He is often called England's national poet and the "Bard of Avon" (or simply "the Bard"). His extant works, including collaborations, consist of some 39 plays, 154 sonnets, three long narrative poems, and a few other verses, some of uncertain authorship. His plays have been translated into every major living language and are performed more often than those of any other playwright. They also continue to be studied and reinterpreted.
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Table of contents
ACT I.
SCENE I. Britain. The garden of Cymbeline’s palace.
SCENE II. The same.
SCENE III. Britain. A public place.
SCENE IV. Britain. Cymbeline’s palace.
SCENE V. Rome. Philario’s house.
SCENE VI. Britain. Cymbeline’s palace.
SCENE VII. Britain. The palace.
ACT II.
SCENE I. Britain. Before Cymbeline’s palace.
SCENE II. Britain. Imogen’s bedchamber in Cymbeline’s palace; a trunk in one corner.
SCENE III. Cymbeline’s palace. An ante-chamber adjoining Imogen’s apartments.
SCENE IV. Rome. Philario’s house.
SCENE V. Rome. Another room in Philario’s house.
ACT III.
SCENE I. Britain. A hall in Cymbeline’s palace.
SCENE II. Britain. Another room in Cymbeline’s palace.
SCENE III. Wales. A mountainous country with a cave.
SCENE IV. Wales, near Milford Haven.
SCENE V. Britain. Cymbeline’s palace.
SCENE VI. Wales. Before the cave of Belarius.
SCENE VII. The same.
SCENE VIII. Rome. A public place.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. Wales. Near the cave of Belarius.
SCENE II. Wales. Before the cave of Belarius.
SCENE III. Britain. Cymbeline’s palace.
SCENE IV. Wales. Before the cave of Belarius.
ACT V.
SCENE I. Britain. The Roman camp.
SCENE II. Britain. A field of battle between the British and Roman camps.
SCENE III. Another part of the field.
SCENE IV. Britain. A prison.
SCENE V. Britain. Cymbeline’s tent.
William Shakespeare
CYMBELINE
1609
~
Digital Edition 2021
Passerino Editore (edited by)
Gaeta 2021
Dramatis Personæ:
SCENE:
Britain; Italy.
ACT I.
SCENE I. Britain. The garden of Cymbeline’s palace.
Enter two Gentlemen.
FIRST GENTLEMAN. You do not meet a man but frowns; our bloods No more obey the heavens than our courtiers Still seem as does the King’s.
SECOND GENTLEMAN. But what’s the matter?
FIRST GENTLEMAN. His daughter, and the heir of’s kingdom, whom He purpos’d to his wife’s sole son—a widow That late he married—hath referr’d herself Unto a poor but worthy gentleman. She’s wedded; Her husband banish’d; she imprison’d. All Is outward sorrow, though I think the King Be touch’d at very heart.
SECOND GENTLEMAN. None but the King?
FIRST GENTLEMAN. He that hath lost her too. So is the Queen, That most desir’d the match. But not a courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the King’s looks, hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they scowl at.
SECOND GENTLEMAN. And why so?
FIRST GENTLEMAN. He that hath miss’d the Princess is a thing Too bad for bad report; and he that hath her— I mean that married her, alack, good man! And therefore banish’d—is a creature such As, to seek through the regions of the earth For one his like, there would be something failing In him that should compare. I do not think So fair an outward and such stuff within Endows a man but he.
SECOND GENTLEMAN. You speak him far.
FIRST GENTLEMAN. I do extend him, sir, within himself; Crush him together rather than unfold His measure duly.
SECOND GENTLEMAN. What’s his name and birth?
FIRST GENTLEMAN. I cannot delve him to the root; his father Was call’d Sicilius, who did join his honour Against the Romans with Cassibelan, But had his titles by Tenantius, whom He serv’d with glory and admir’d success, So gain’d the sur-addition Leonatus; And had, besides this gentleman in question, Two other sons, who, in the wars o’ th’ time, Died with their swords in hand; for which their father, Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow That he quit being; and his gentle lady, Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas’d As he was born. The King he takes the babe To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus, Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber, Puts to him all the learnings that his time Could make him the receiver of; which he took, As we do air, fast as ’twas minist’red, And in’s spring became a harvest, liv’d in court— Which rare it is to do—most prais’d, most lov’d, A sample to the youngest; to th’ more mature A glass that feated them; and to the graver A child that guided dotards. To his mistress, For whom he now is banish’d, her own price Proclaims how she esteem’d him and his virtue; By her election may be truly read What kind of man he is.
SECOND GENTLEMAN. I honour him Even out of your report. But pray you tell me, Is she sole child to th’ King?
FIRST GENTLEMAN. His only child. He had two sons—if this be worth your hearing, Mark it—the eldest of them at three years old, I’ th’ swathing clothes the other, from their nursery Were stol’n; and to this hour no guess in knowledge Which way they went.
SECOND GENTLEMAN. How long is this ago?
FIRST GENTLEMAN. Some twenty years.
SECOND GENTLEMAN. That a king’s children should be so convey’d, So slackly guarded, and the search so slow That could not trace them!
FIRST GENTLEMAN. Howsoe’er ’tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh’d at, Yet is it true, sir.
SECOND GENTLEMAN. I do well believe you.
FIRST GENTLEMAN. We must forbear; here comes the gentleman,
The Queen, and Princess.
[ Exeunt.]
SCENE II. The same.
Enter Queen, Posthumus and Imogen.
QUEEN. No, be assur’d you shall not find me, daughter, After the slander of most stepmothers, Evil-ey’d unto you. You’re my prisoner, but Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, So soon as I can win th’ offended King, I will be known your advocate. Marry, yet The fire of rage is in him, and ’twere good You lean’d unto his sentence with what patience Your wisdom may inform you.
POSTHUMUS. Please your Highness, I will from hence today.
QUEEN. You know the peril. I’ll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barr’d affections, though the King Hath charg’d you should not speak together.
[ Exit.]
IMOGEN. O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband, I something fear my father’s wrath, but nothing (Always reserv’d my holy duty) what His rage can do on me. You must be gone; And I shall here abide the hourly shot Of angry eyes, not comforted to live But that there is this jewel in the world That I may see again.
POSTHUMUS. My queen! my mistress! O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause To be suspected of more tenderness Than doth become a man. I will remain The loyal’st husband that did e’er plight troth; My residence in Rome at one Philario’s, Who to my father was a friend, to me Known but by letter; thither write, my queen, And with mine eyes I’ll drink the words you send, Though ink be made of gall.
Enter Queen.
QUEEN. Be brief, I pray you. If the King come, I shall incur I know not How much of his displeasure. [ Aside.] Yet I’ll move him To walk this way. I never do him wrong But he does buy my injuries, to be friends; Pays dear for my offences.
[ Exit.]
POSTHUMUS. Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu!
IMOGEN. Nay, stay a little. Were you but riding forth to air yourself, Such parting were too petty. Look here, love: This diamond was my mother’s; take it, heart; But keep it till you woo another wife, When Imogen is dead.
POSTHUMUS. How, how? Another? You gentle gods, give me but this I have, And sear up my embracements from a next With bonds of death! Remain, remain thou here
[ Puts on the ring.]
While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest, As I my poor self did exchange for you, To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles I still win of you. For my sake wear this; It is a manacle of love; I’ll place it Upon this fairest prisoner.
[ Puts a bracelet on her arm.]
IMOGEN. O the gods! When shall we see again?
Enter Cymbeline and Lords.
POSTHUMUS. Alack, the King!
CYMBELINE. Thou basest thing, avoid; hence from my sight If after this command thou fraught the court With thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away! Thou’rt poison to my blood.
POSTHUMUS. The gods protect you, And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone.
[ Exit.]
IMOGEN. There cannot be a pinch in death More sharp than this is.
CYMBELINE. O disloyal thing, That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap’st A year’s age on me!
IMOGEN. I beseech you, sir, Harm not yourself with your vexation. I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare Subdues all pangs, all fears.
CYMBELINE. Past grace? obedience?
IMOGEN. Past hope, and in despair; that way past grace.
CYMBELINE. That mightst have had the sole son of my queen!
IMOGEN. O blessed that I might not! I chose an eagle, And did avoid a puttock.
CYMBELINE. Thou took’st a beggar, wouldst have made my throne A seat for baseness.
IMOGEN. No; I rather added A lustre to it.
CYMBELINE. O thou vile one!
IMOGEN. Sir, It is your fault that I have lov’d Posthumus. You bred him as my playfellow, and he is A man worth any woman; overbuys me Almost the sum he pays.
CYMBELINE. What, art thou mad?
IMOGEN. Almost, sir. Heaven restore me! Would I were A neat-herd’s daughter, and my Leonatus Our neighbour shepherd’s son!
Enter Queen.
CYMBELINE. Thou foolish thing! [ To the Queen.] They were again together. You have done Not after our command. Away with her, And pen her up.
