Woolf Seminar:Mrs. Dalloway tips: Cymbeline
Shakespeare's Cymbeline: "Fear No More..."
On p. 8, Clarissa thinks of lines from Shakespeare's play Cymbeline. The lines are spoken in Act IV, scene ii. This scene takes place in Wales, near the cave of Belarius. Cymbeline is the king. His first wife died, leaving him with three children, Arviragus, Guiderius, and Imogen. Some 20 years ago he banished Belarius, who kidnapped Arviragus and Guiderius and raised them as his own. In this scene Arviragus and Guiderius discover that their friend Fidele (who is really Imogen, their sister, in disguise) is dead. Imogen is really only sleeping from a potion (like Juliet in Romeo and Juliet). Cloten is the son of Cymbeline's second wife and current queen (and thus Cymbeline's stepson). Guiderius has just killed Cloten, during a confrontation wherein Cloten was going to kill him. Belarius reminds them that Cloten was also a prince, whether they like it or not.
Arviragus's response to his friend Fidele's apparent death is to use elevated language. Guiderius reacts differently. He does not like to use a lot of fancy words in the face of death. He tells Arviragus, "do not play in wench-like words" with the serious matter of death. But Arviragus is the one who suggests that they "sing" Fidele into his grave, even though they are now grown men and no longer have the beautiful voices of young boys. Guiderius says he cannot sing, but agrees to at least speak the words. The words of this song are a farewell to the dead and a reminder to the living that we all must die, must "come to dust." Even lovers must eventually come to dust. This is obviously a recurring theme in Shakespeare and in much literature. What do you find relevant about Clarissa's repeating of this phrase from the song in the novel Mrs. Dalloway? How is this quote, and the song from which it is taken, also important in terms of the Septimus Smith story? And do you find the references Shakespeare makes here to words and how words should be used relevant to this novel and to Jacob's Room as well?
from Shakespeare's Cymbeline, ACT IV, scene 2:
. . .GUIDERIUS Why, he [Fidele--Imogen in disguise] but sleeps: If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed; With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, And worms will not come to thee.. . . (end of excerpt). For the full play, seeARVIRAGUS With fairest flowers Whilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose, nor The azured harebell, like thy veins, no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock would, With charitable bill,--O bill, sore-shaming Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie Without a monument!--bring thee all this; Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none, To winter-ground thy corse.
GUIDERIUS Prithee, have done; And do not play in wench-like words with that which is so serious. Let us bury him, And not protract with admiration what is now due debt. To the grave!
AARVIRAGUS Say, where shall's lay him?
GUIDERIUS By good Euriphile, our mother.
ARVIRAGUS Be't so: And let us, Polydore, though now our voices Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground, As once our mother; use like note and words, Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.
GUIDERIUS Cadwal, I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee; For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse Than priests and fanes that lie.
ARVIRAGUS We'll speak it, then.
BELARIUS Great griefs, I see, medicine the less; for Cloten is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys; And though he came our enemy, remember He was paid for that: though mean and mighty, rotting Together, have one dust, yet reverence, That angel of the world, doth make distinction Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely And though you took his life, as being our foe, Yet bury him as a prince.
GUIDERIUS Pray You, fetch him hither. Thersites' body is as good as Ajax', When neither are alive.
ARVIRAGUS If you'll go fetch him, We'll say our song the whilst. Brother, begin.
[Exit BELARIUS]
GUIDERIUS Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east; My father hath a reason for't.
ARVIRAGUS 'Tis true.
GUIDERIUS Come on then, and remove him.
ARVIRAGUS So. Begin. [SONG]
GUIDERIUS Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:
Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.ARVIRAGUS Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.GUIDERIUS Fear no more the lightning flash,
ARVIRAGUS Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
GUIDERIUS Fear not slander, censure rash;
ARVIRAGUS Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:
GUIDERIUS | | All lovers young, all lovers must
ARVIRAGUS | Consign to thee, and come to dust.GUIDERIUS No exorciser harm thee!
ARVIRAGUS Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
GUIDERIUS Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
ARVIRAGUS Nothing ill come near thee!
GUIDERIUS | | Quiet consummation have;
ARVIRAGUS | And renowned be thy grave![Re-enter BELARIUS, with the body of CLOTEN]
GUIDERIUS We have done our obsequies: come, lay him down.
BELARIUS Here's a few flowers; but 'bout midnight, more: The herbs that have on them cold dew o' the night Are strewings fitt'st for graves. Upon their faces. You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so These herblets shall, which we upon you strew. Come on, away: apart upon our knees. The ground that gave them first has them again: Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain.
[Exeunt BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS]
IMOGEN [Awaking] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is the way?-- I thank you.--By yond bush?--Pray, how far thither? 'Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet?-- I have gone all night. 'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep. But, soft! no bedfellow!--O gods and goddesses!
[Seeing the body of CLOTEN]
These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; This bloody man, the care on't. I hope I dream; For so I thought I was a cave-keeper, And cook to honest creatures: but 'tis not so; 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, Which the brain makes of fumes: our very eyes Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith, I tremble stiff with fear: but if there be Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it! The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is Without me, as within me; not imagined, felt. A headless man! The garments of Posthumus! I know the shape of's leg: this is his hand; His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh; The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face Murder in heaven?--How!--'Tis gone. Pisanio, All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou, Conspired with that irregulous devil, Cloten, Hast here cut off my lord. To write and read Be henceforth treacherous! Damn'd Pisanio Hath with his forged letters,--damn'd Pisanio-- From this most bravest vessel of the world Struck the main-top! O Posthumus! alas, Where is thy head? where's that? Ay me! where's that? Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, And left this head on. How should this be? Pisanio? 'Tis he and Cloten: malice and lucre in them Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant! The drug he gave me, which he said was precious And cordial to me, have I not found it Murderous to the senses? That confirms it home: This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: O! Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood, That we the horrider may seem to those Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord!
[Falls on the body]
http://www.interest.de/~krausst/shakespeare/comedies/cymbeline_index.html
or any of half a dozen other websites that contain shakespeare plays, including Cymbeline, online.
For a summary of Cymbeline, see http://www.unc.edu/~monroem/shakespeare/cymbelin.html
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