The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (831 page)

This yellow Iachimo in an hour- was't not?

Or less!- at first? Perchance he spoke not, but,

Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one,

Cried 'O!' and mounted; found no opposition

But what he look'd for should oppose and she

Should from encounter guard. Could I find out

The woman's part in me! For there's no motion

That tends to vice in man but I affirm

It is the woman's part. Be it lying, note it,

The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;

Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers;

Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,

Nice longing, slanders, mutability,

All faults that man may name, nay, that hell knows,

Why, hers, in part or all; but rather all;

For even to vice

They are not constant, but are changing still

One vice but of a minute old for one

Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,

Detest them, curse them. Yet 'tis greater skill

In a true hate to pray they have their will:

The very devils cannot plague them better.

Exit

Is there no way for men to be created, without women

doing half the job? We're all bastards,

and that great man who I called my father

was somewhere else when I was conceived. Some forger

uses tools to make me a fake; even though my mother seemed

as chaste as Diana at the time. My wife

is the worst example of this. Oh, revenge, revenge!

She didn't let me have my marital rights,

and often begged me to be patient; she did it with

such rosy modesty, the sweet view of it

might have warmed old Saturn; so I thought she

was as pure as an melted snow. Oh, all the devils!

This sallow faced Iachimo in one hour–wasn't it?

Or less!–Got what he wanted. Perhaps he said nothing, but,

like a well fed boar, a German one,

shouted ‘oh!’ and jumped on; he found no opposition

where he should have done and where she

should have kept intruders out. I wish I could discover

my female half! For there is nothing in men

which causes vice which doesn't come from

the mother. If it's lying, you can see,

that comes from women; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;

lust and filthy thoughts, hers, hers; revenge, hers;

ambition, coveting, mood swings, contempt,

greedy desires, slander, changeability,

all the faults that man can name, no, that hell knows,

why, they're hers, partly or completely; actually completely;

even in vice

they are not constant, but are always changing

one vice, just a minute old, for one

not half as old as that. I'll write against them,

detest them, curse them. But actually it's better,

if you really hate them, to pray they get what they want:

that way they'll get more punishment.

Enter in state, CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, and LORDS at one door, and at another CAIUS LUCIUS and attendants

CYMBELINE.

Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us?

Now tell me, what does Augustus Caesar what with us?

LUCIUS.

When Julius Caesar- whose remembrance yet

Lives in men's eyes, and will to ears and tongues

Be theme and hearing ever- was in this Britain,

And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle,

Famous in Caesar's praises no whit less

Than in his feats deserving it, for him

And his succession granted Rome a tribute,

Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately

Is left untender'd.

When Julius Caesar–who is still remembered

and will be always talked of

forever–was here in Britain,

and conquered it, Cassibelan, your uncle,

who got great praise from Caesar, and certainly

deserved it for what he did, promised that he

and his successors would give Rome a tribute

of three thousand pounds a year, which recently

you haven't paid.

QUEEN.

And, to kill the marvel,

Shall be so ever.

And, in case you're wondering,

it never will be paid.

CLOTEN.

There be many Caesars

Ere such another Julius. Britain is

A world by itself, and we will nothing pay

For wearing our own noses.

There will be many Caesars

before another one like Julius comes. Britain is

independent, and we will pay nothing

for living in our own homes.

QUEEN.

That opportunity,

Which then they had to take from 's, to resume

We have again. Remember, sir, my liege,

The kings your ancestors, together with

The natural bravery of your isle, which stands

As Neptune's park, ribb'd and pal'd in

With rocks unscalable and roaring waters,

With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats

But suck them up to th' top-mast. A kind of conquest

Caesar made here; but made not here his brag

Of 'came, and saw, and overcame.' With shame-

The first that ever touch'd him- he was carried

From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping-

Poor ignorant baubles!- on our terrible seas,

Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd

As easily 'gainst our rocks; for joy whereof

The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point-

O, giglot fortune!- to master Caesar's sword,

Made Lud's Town with rejoicing fires bright

And Britons strut with courage.

We now have the chance

to take back what they took from us.

Remember, sir, my lord,

your royal ancestors, and also

natural defences of your island, which stands

in the middle of the sea, fenced in

by unclimbable cliffs and roaring waters,

with sands that will not hold your enemies' boats

but will suck them in up to the mast. Caesar had

a kind of victory here, but it wasn't here that he made his boast

of ‘I came, I saw, I conquered.’ He was carried

away from our coast having been beaten twice,

and shamed, the first time it had ever happened to him;

and his ships–ill-equipped toys! - were thrown around

like eggshells on the tides of our terrible seas, and cracked

like eggshells against our rocks; out of joy at that

the famous Cassibelan, who once almost–

what a tart fortune is!–managed to defeat Caesar,

made London town bright with victory bonfires,

and the British people strutted bravely.

CLOTEN.

Come, there's no more tribute to be paid. Our kingdom

is

stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there is

no

moe such Caesars. Other of them may have crook'd noses; but

to

owe such straight arms, none.

Come, we no longer need to pay tribute. Our kingdom is

stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there are

no longer leaders like Julius. Some of them might have the same crooked noses,

but none of them have such strong arms.

CYMBELINE.

Son, let your mother end.

Son, let your mother finish.

CLOTEN.

We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as

Cassibelan.

I do not say I am one; but I have a hand. Why tribute? Why

should

we pay tribute? If Caesar can hide the sun from us with a

blanket,

or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for

light;

else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now.

There are many of us who can fight as hard as Cassibelan.

I'm not claiming to be one; but I have hands. Why tribute? Why should

we pay tribute? If Caesar could hide the sun from us with a blanket,

or put themoon in his pocket, we would pay him a tax for the light;

otherwise, sir, no more tribute, I beg you.

CYMBELINE.

You must know,

Till the injurious Romans did extort

This tribute from us, we were free. Caesar's ambition-

Which swell'd so much that it did almost stretch

The sides o' th' world- against all colour here

Did put the yoke upon's; which to shake off

Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon

Ourselves to be.

You must know,

until the insulting Romans extorted

this tribute from us, we were free. Caesar's ambition–

which was so inflated that it almost covered

the whole world–without any pretence of justice

put us in chains; to shake them off

is what a warlike people should do, and that's what we

think of ourselves as.

CLOTEN.

We do.

We do.

CYMBELINE.

Say then to Caesar,

Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which

Ordain'd our laws- whose use the sword of Caesar

Hath too much mangled; whose repair and franchise

Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed,

Though Rome be therefore angry. Mulmutius made our laws,

Who was the first of Britain which did put

His brows within a golden crown, and call'd

Himself a king.

So tell Caesar,

our ancestor was Mulmutius who