Shakespeare & The Sleeping Beauty
"A woman that bears all down with her brain, and this her son cannot take two from twenty, for his heart, and leave eighteen."
“A woman that bears all down with her brain, and this her son cannot take two from twenty, for his heart, and leave eighteen.” — Cymbeline, Act II, Scene 1, Lines 54-56.
Once upon a time there was a beautiful Princess, her banished Knight in shining armor, an ignorant King, and an evil Queen. No, this isn’t the Brothers Grimm. Nor is it Shrek 2 (although shockingly similar). This is Shakespeare.
Cymbeline is one of Shakespeare’s late plays, and, like many late plays, it is a weird one. It’s set in ancient Britain (like Lear) and involves King Cymbeline, his daughter Imogen, his ward and son-in-law Posthumous, his Queen, and the Queen’s idiot son Cloten. It was written around 1610. It also has fairytale themes similar to Snow White and Goldilocks, as well as notes echoing a happier Romeo & Juliet and Othello, so I felt it was perfect for a holiday homage.
With that said…
The Shake-Scene
Once upon a time, King Cymbeline had a loving wife, two strapping sons, and a beautiful daughter. But tragedy struck. His sons were kidnapped as infants and are presumed dead. His loving wife died. And, many years later, his beautiful daughter Imogen… eloped without his permission.
The play opens with a furious King Cymbeline banishing Imogen’s new husband, a man named Posthumous Leonatus. And yes, that name is intentional because Posthumous was born after his father’s death. In fact, his whole family is dead and he was raised by King Cymbeline. And yes, that does come into play later. King Cymbeline is furious that his daughter married Posthumous instead of his new wife’s son (i.e. Imogen’s stepbrother). However, we the audience are on her side, because even without the semi-incest, the dude is an idiot. But, alas, good taste is not enough to save her heartbreak. This is Shakespeare after all.
The (evil) Queen promises Imogen and Posthumous that she will aid them in their love even as Posthumous makes plan to flee Briton for Rome. Imogen gives him a diamond ring, he gives her a bracelet. Posthumous flees. Cymbeline enters and argues with his daughter over Posthumous’s worthiness. Cymbeline essentially grounds her and stalks off. As he leaves, Pisanio (Posthumous’s servant) enters and tells the Queen that her son (Cloten) drew his sword on Posthumous. Thankfully Posthumous easily won and walked away (as opposed to Romeo, perhaps?), but he left Pisanio to be Imogen’s servant.
Next, we meet Cloten and watch has the Lords he consorts with insult him behind his back like a real Rodney Dangerfield (‘No Respect’). They discuss the duel and it is clear that Cloten is a hotheaded fool with an over-inflated sense of ego. And here I thought those guys were only on Tinder.
Posthumous arrives in Italy. He meets Iachimo, who has been told of Posthumous’s great honor and Imogen’s beauty. Iachimo manipulates Posthumous into a bet: If Iachimo can prove Imogen unfaithful, he gets Posthumous’s diamond ring. If this is sounding like an episode of How I Met Your Mother, you aren’t completely off base. Iachimo is a real Barney Stinson. But more on that later.
Back in Briton, the (evil) Queen has asked a doctor for a poison. She says it’s to kill stray dogs and cats (evil), but the Doctor fears it is to kill a human (more evil?) so he tells the audience that he’s merely given her a potion that will make the drinker seem dead (Similar to Juliet, perhaps?). The Queen tells the audience she wants the poison to kill Posthumous’s servant Pisanio, in hopes that with him gone, Imogen will marry Cloten. The Queen gives Pisanio the “poison,” telling him it is medicine, and instructs him to convince Imogen to fall in love with Cloten.
As if.
Imogen, still grieving for her banished Posthumous, meets the slimy Iachimo. He tries to neg her into sleeping with him by telling her that Posthumous is unfaithful with Roman prostitutes, and she should sleep with him for revenge. But she’s not dumb enough to fall for that (if only more Shakespearean characters were so wise). Iachimo, realizing his gambit has failed, pretends he made up the lies only to test her faithfulness. Feigning friendship, he asks if she’ll keep his trunk full of jewels and riches in her chamber for the night. She, like the idiots of Troy, agrees.
Later that night, as Imogen sleeps, the trojan trunk opens and Iachimo emerges. He memorizes the description of her bedroom and her body (gag!), and steals the bracelet from her wrist that Posthumous had given her. This Barney Stinson Hijinx completed, Iachimo heads back to Rome to destroy Imogen’s life. But hey, boy’s will be boys. It’s not like this sort of ruse could result in Imogen’s death (*cough* Desdemona *cough*). Granted, she does commit the unpardonable offense of asking her lady-in-waiting to dog-ear a book, but she probably doesn’t deserve to die for that (probably).
But, alas, in the next scene she commits another unforgivable offense: She tells the unworthy man-child Cloten that, despite his tantrum, she won’t leave her loving and competent husband. She says he is no better than Posthumous’s garment, and yes, Shakespeare uses that wordplay later. (IDK if y’all know this, but he’s kind of amazing at wordplay).
Meanwhile, Cymbeline and the Queen having sworn to Cloten that they’ll make it alright (gag), have their plans interrupted by the arrival of a messenger from Rome. August Caesar (of Rome) is demanding tribute from Briton. If Briton will not pay, there will be war.
The Queen and Cloten run their mouths.
War it is.
Things go from bad to worse as, back in Rome, Iachimo has returned and convinces Posthumous that Imogen has been unfaithful. I’m never a big fan of this plotline, but of those that are tricked (Othello, Claudio in Much Ado, etc.) Posthumous probably faces the greatest amount of evidence. Iachimo describes her bedroom, a mole under her breast, and has a bracelet she swore to never take off. However, Posthumous swearing to kill Imogen for her unfaithfulness still seems like an over-reaction. Reluctantly, he gives Iachimo the diamond ring and let’s him keep the bracelet.
Once the stage is clear, Iachimo gives his ‘this is why I did it’ soliloquy. It’s just as incel-esque as you’d expect. He blames women for all the wrongs in the world, even as we’ve watched him sneak into a woman’s bedchamber in a trunk, steal from her, and leer at her. But sure, women are the problem bro. Society may change, but people don’t.
And here comes the tragedy of this tragi-comedy. Pisanio (Posthumous’s servant) receives two letters. One for Pisanio to give to Imogen and the other instructing Pisanio to lure Imogen to Milford Haven (Wales) and kill her. And then, the lovelorn Imogen enters and reads the letter meant for her. And damn if it is tragic. Her innocent excitement at seeing the man she loves with all her heart, as we know she’s being lured to her death. Now there’s that dramatic irony Shakespeare is so good at.
Imogen sets about to sneak her way to Milford Haven and her love, and the audience begins losing hope in a comedic ending.
But! Having finally made it to the middle of the play (yes, only the middle), we meet the twist. Now, if you’ve been paying attention to the fairytale themes, perhaps you’ve expected King Cymbeline’s long missing (and presumed dead) sons to appear midway through the play. If so, you’re too adept at guessing plots and don’t need me. For the rest of us, we meet these missing princes (no, not those missing princes) living in a cave in the Welsh mountains. They were kidnapped by a general that Cymbeline exiled (Belarius) and raised by he and their nurse (who pretended to be their mother). The princes, Guiderius and Arviragus, are a bit dimwitted and Grizzly-Adams-esque, but they do offer a hope of a comedic ending.
Speaking of hope, Pisanio is escorting Imogen to Milford Haven when his conscience finally gives out. He confesses that Posthumous thinks her unfaithful and has asked Pisanio to lure her out of Briton and kill her. Distraught at the accusation, Imogen draws her sword and begs him to kill her. Thankfully, Pisanio is neither a friar nor a nurse, so we can trust him. He talks her off the ledge and crafts a ruse that might sound a bit familiar. He convinces Imogen to dress as a boy and get a job with the Roman messenger who’s headed back to Italy (Twelfth Night), and he’ll send a letter to Posthumous telling him that she’s dead to arouse his conscience (Antony & Cleopatra or Much Ado About Nothing). And, to top of foreshadow mountain, he gives Imogen Chekhov’s poison (IYKYK). As a reminder, this is the potion the Queen thinks is poison and Pisanio thinks is medicine but is actually a Romeo-&-Juliet-esque poison that makes the drinker seem temporarily dead. Foolhardy plan aside, I ship Pisanio and Imogen. He’s a real Ride or Die and I wish him the best.
This new ruse off to the races allows us all to take a deep breath, because in Shakespeare, cross-dressing ladies always prevail. It’s almost like a woman’s brain in man’s trousers is an unstoppable force. Like Shakespeare is trying to make some sort of commentary… IDK, it eludes me.
Back in Briton, Cloten-the-Pathetic throws a tantrum upon finding Imogen fled. He bullies Pisanio into telling him where she went. Pisanio tells Cloten where Imogen has gone, but assures the audience that she is too far fled for Cloten to keep up. For his part, Cloten has the atrocious plan to dress as Posthumous, ravish Imogen, and kill the real Poshumous. Sure hope this is a comedy…
Meanwhile, Imogen has lost her way (women and directions, am I right? [No, no I am not]). She Goldilockses (verb?) her way into the cave belonging to her long-lost brothers (not that she knows that) and their kidnapper-turned-father. They return home and mistake her for a fairy, an angel, and finally a boy. She, unlike that mannerless so-and-so Goldilocks, offers them money for the meat she’s took. She receives a hearty welcome, including a rather uncomfortable Luke & Leia situation with a brother saying he’d woo her hard if she’d been a woman… At least they don’t kiss.
And now the plot dominoes are set up to fall. Cloten has arrived to the Welsh forest dressed as Posthumous and is ready to exact his dastardly plot. Snow White, I mean Imogen, sends her dwarves, I mean brothers, off to the coal mine, I mean to hunt.1 She is feeling unwell and so, FINALLY, she takes Chekhov’s potion.
Cloten stumbles upon the woodsmen and runs his fool-mouth. The father (Belarius) and one brother (Arviragus) go off to make sure he doesn’t have an army of men with him. Cloten and Guiderious fight. Guiderious is victorious and cuts off Cloten’s head. Ouch. Their “dad” Belarius gets skittish that the court will come after them for killing the prince, but Guiderious and his brother are full-on-honey-badger (i.e. they don’t care). Guiderious tosses the head down the stream and keeps the body (now Chekhov’s headless body in Posthumous’s clothes).
Arviragus enters holding the “dead” Imogen (still dressed as a boy) and playing a mournful tune. They mourn Imogen and “bury” her next to their “mother.”2 They sing wonderful dirges to her corpse, and then toss her in the hole with headless Cloten (who, you’ll remember, is wearing Posthumous’s clothes).
The princes and their faux father leave, and Imogen wakes seconds later to Juliet’s nightmare. Juliet (of Romeo & Juliet) feared waking next to her newly decaying cousin and instead awoke next to her newly dead husband. Imogen wakes next to the still bleeding headless corpse of the man who kept her from happiness with her husband whom she mistakes as her husband. This might be an apt moment to remind you of Imogen comparing Cloten to Posthumous’s garments. That Billy Shakes, he’s clever.
Imogen assumes Pisanio set the whole thing up with Cloten to have Posthumous killed, and, when the Roman messenger (now a general) shows up with his army to invade Briton, she finds her way into his employ as a page.
Back in Briton, the queen is deathly ill and King Cymbeline (who I still have no idea why the play is named after) is looking for his daughter and stepson. He’s told that the Roman fleet has landed and exits to make preparations for war. Pisanio, now alone, frets that he hasn’t heard back after telling Posthumous that Imogen is dead, and hasn’t heard about Imogen’s whereabouts. Things aren’t looking good.
In the forest, Belarius tries to get his “sons” to flee up the mountain away from the war, but they are insistent on fighting against the Romans. Belarius blames their princely blood and follows them into the fray.
Posthumous, still banished to Rome, enters in full Roman armor and max emo mode. He carries a bloody cloth and repents calling for Imogen’s death. He wishes she’d lived to repent (of the adulatory she didn’t do) and he had died. Which, I guess, redeems him a bit. He decides to take off the Roman armor and enlist with the Briton’s in disguise in hopes of dying in the war.
Posthumous (in disguise) defeats Iachimo in battle. Iachimo (out of earshot) says it’s because of his guilty conscience (but I’m not buying it). In battle, King Cymbeline is captured but then rescued by Belarius, the two princes, and (disguised) Posthumous. They exit. The Roman messenger sends Imogen (in disguise) away because of the chaos of the battle.
Posthumous the Emo enters, praising the prowess of Belarius and the princes. He then laments that, of all that are dead, he is not one. So, he changes clothes again to dress like a Roman soldier. Two Briton captains enter bragging about the work of Belarius, the Princes, and (the disguised) Posthumous, only to take the now Roman Posthumous captive. Cymbeline then (wordlessly) sends him to jail.3
There’s no prologue to this play, but the way Posthumous (ironically) cannot seek his tragic end, seems to make he and Imogen star-fated-lovers. But maybe that’s the romantic in me.
In jail, Posthumous is visited by the ghosts of his dead family — because if you’re emo enough, a ghost always shows up. One might even call it a Posthumous Visitation (lol, see what I [well, Shakespeare] did there?!?). The ghosts beg Jupiter to come help Posthumous. Jupiter promises it’s all going to be ok. Jupiter leaves Posthumous a tablet. Posthumous wakes up, thinking the ghostly visit was a dream. He reads the cryptic message on the tablet. He’s then about to be led off to be hanged when a messenger comes to send him to the King. (Dude just cannot die).
Cymbeline knights (disguised) Belarius and the (unknown) princes. He laments that he cannot knight the person we know to be Posthumous. The doctor enters and says the queen died after confessing that she never loved Cymbeline and planned to kill Imogen. The Romans come to ask for pardon and Cymbeline grants Imogen (in disguise) one favor. The Roman Messenger assumes she’ll ask his life be spared, but instead she wishes to interrogate Iachimo about his diamond ring. It’s a bit cold blooded but girl has focus.
Iachimo confesses the wrong he committed toward Imogen. Posthumous confronts him and wants to kill him. Posthumous confesses to having Imogen killed. Imogen (in disguise) runs to Posthumous but, not recognizing her, he knocks her over. Pisanio, who does recognize her, helps her up and tells everyone who she is. Cymbeline and Posthumous are overjoyed. Imogen accuses Pisanio of trying to kill her with the poison, and the doctor explains the mix up. Belarius and the princes realize their mix-up at assuming (disguised) Imogen was dead. Imogen and Posthumous embrace.
Pisanio then confesses he sent Cloten off of a wild goose chase, and Guiderius (eldest prince) confesses that he killed him. Cymbeline sentences Guiderius to death (although he doesn’t really want to), but Belarius steps in and tells the King that Guiderius and Arviragus are his missing sons.
Cymbeline, overjoyed at the reunion with all his children, pardons the Romans. Posthumous confesses he was the other fighter that saved Cymbeline. Iachimo returns the ring and bracelet and asks Posthumous to kill him. But Posthumous spares him. And, randomly, Cymbeline agrees to start paying Caesar tribute again.
And they all live happily ever after.
Which is weird, because The First Folio sorted it with the tragedies.
Speak the Speech, I Pray You
Bring Shakespeare’s words into your own life by:
Gossiping about your friend’s new baby (What? Like blocks are hard?);
Insulting the tantruming toddler in line at Dillard’s on Christmas Eve; and
Lament the role of nepotism in the workplace:
Additional Resources
Find a copy of the entire play here.
Read about a reference to a 1611 staging affects the dating of the play here.
Look at some cool art inspired by the play in the Folger’s collection here.
Lest you think I’m reaching too far with the allusion, Imogen has sung to them, cleaned their house, and improved their cooking. Then she takes a potion from an evil stepmother queen and falls into a cursed sleep. Although there aren’t adorable woodland creatures assisting her, I stand by the reference.
The nurse that fled with their kidnapper to care for them.
This is all done in stage directions rather than dialogue. Someone smarter than me will have to explain that.