The Condensed Version of
by Sicily

Dedication: This one is dedicated to my Playreaders group, who are doing a totally wonderful job performing Midsummer and R&J . . . I love you guys! Thank you for all your friendliness & support, and for humoring me on my strange director-notions.


1st Gentleman: The king's daughter Imogen was supposed to marry her stepbrother, but she went and married Posthumus (who is a cooler guy anyway) instead.
2nd Gentleman: That's great and all, but why are you telling me?
1st Gentleman: Are you kidding? That's crucial plot information. You should feel extremely special.

Imogen: Goodbye my love! Time for you to go be banished.
Posthumus: I promise to e-mail you every day.
Imogen: Have a ring.
Posthumus: Have a, um, token. I'm not sure what it is exactly, but I got it at the flea market for a bargain price.

Cymbeline: You stink, Imogen. Go away.
Queen: What he said.

Cloten: So did I beat the guy up? Did I? Did I? Did I?
1st Lord: You did magnificently, sir.
2nd Lord: Actually, since he's unscathed and you're nursing a black eye, a bloody lip, a scraped forearm, a broken ankle, and apparent brain damage, I don't think that's quite accurate. But what do I know?

Imogen: Now tell me every last little thing Posthumus did the last time you saw him.
Pisanio: Are you sure this isn't, like, an unhealthy obsession?
Imogen: Of course not. Now, exactly how many times did he wiggle his toes as he walked to the ship?

Iachimo: Nice ring.
Posthumus: Thanks! I got it from my lovely, pure, loyal, faithful, no-chance-in-the-world-of-adultery wife.
Iachimo: Either you're majorly overconfident or you're in denial. I bet you that ring I'll be able to sleep with her.
Posthumus: Hmm, sounds like a plot device. Done!

Queen: Do you have the poison I asked for?
Doctor: Right here, m'lady. Um, why exactly did you want me to give you arsenic?
Queen: Trust me. It's for my Evil Scheme. Pisanio! Here's some, um, Alka Seltzer. Don't worry, it's not arsenic or anything.
Pisanio: Wow, for me? Thanks!
Doctor: Actually, I'm smarter than both of them, and it's neither arsenic nor Alka Seltzer. It's actually that stuff that Friar Laurence gave Juliet to make her look dead in Romeo and Juliet. No kidding.

Imogen: My life sucks.
Iachimo: Here's a letter from Posthumus.
Imogen: Scratch that previous comment.
Iachimo: Wow, she's gorgeous. If she's smart, too, this could be bad. I might, y'know, lose.

Iachimo: You know, Posthumus is being really unfaithful to you in Rome.
Imogen: I don't believe you.
Iachimo: Okay, you're right, I lied. Will you sleep with me anyway?
Imogen: Forget it.
Iachimo: Dang. Okay then, will you allow me to keep a large chest in your room that I might crawl out of so I can get a look at your bedroom and pretend I slept with you so I can make your husband think you're unfaithful?
Imogen: I see no problem with that.

Iachimo: So her walls are blue, she's got a Dark Angel poster above her bed, she's reading How to Goodbye Depression, and she's got a pimple on her shoulder. I think I'll take her token while I'm here . . . it's purty.

Cloten: Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer. . .
[Window slams shut]
Cymbeline: Give her time to forget about Posthumus. Then I'm sure she'll like your singing.

Cloten: Marry me.
Imogen: Forget it.

Lord: We're expecting an ambassador from the Romans.
Cymbeline: Oh, is that the time period of this play? I was wondering. It gets confusing with all the anachronisms.

Imogen: Oh no! My token! It's gone! Look for it, Pisanio!

Iachimo: I so slept with your wife.
Posthumus: Did not.
Iachimo: Did too.
Posthumus: Prove it.
Iachimo: She's reading How to Goodbye Depression. And I got her token.
Posthumus: Oh my God! You did!
Iachimo: That was like, totally too easy.

Posthumus: Every single woman in the world is a scum-eating slimeball!
Spaniard: Isn't that a gross generalization based on a single unconfirmed incident?
Posthumus: Your point being?

Lucius: I think you should pay tribute to Rome.
Cymbeline: I think not.

Pisanio: This letter from Posthumus says to kill Imogen.
Imogen: Suddenly I feel like Snow White.

Belarius: Time to hunt.
Polydore and Cadwal: Yay!

Belarius: They're really the princes, who I kidnapped when they were babies cause I was mad at Cymbeline. Oh, and their real names are Guiderius and Averigus, but I call them Polydore and Cadwal because those are easier to pronounce.

Imogen: So you gonna kill me, or what?
Pisanio: Didn't we establish that this isn't a tragedy? Anyway, it would complicate the plot more if you dressed up as a boy. Never mind that it's a rip off of numerous other Shakespeare plays. Oh, and here's some AlkaSeltzer that I got from the queen.
Imogen: I think I'll call myself Fidele. Not to be confused with the dictator of Cuba.

Cymbeline: Bye-bye, Lucius! See you again when we fight each other!
Messenger: Imogen's gone.
Cymbeline: This is definitely not my day.

Cloten: Hey, you! Bring me some of Posthumus' clothes so I can rape Imogen.
Pisanio: Right away, m'lord.

Fidele/Imogen: I've decided I don't like backpacking at all. I like my featherbed.

Polydore/Guiderius: I don't know who you are, but you look pretty cool.
Cadwal/Averigus: Yeah! I don't know you at all, but I like you anyway. Come live with us.
Fidele/Imogen: I should be disturbed, because that sounds really nasty, in more ways than one. Only I'm not. So, sure! I'd love to live with you.

Roman Dude: We're going to war with Britain.
Other Roman Dude: Cool.

Cloten: Here I am in Posthumus' clothes, waiting for Imogen so I can rape her. I didn't know if you might've figured this out from the last time I was on stage; so I thought I'd tell you again.

Fidele/Imogen: I feel icky.
Cadwal/Averigus: Poor you. Bye now.

Fidele/Imogen: I think I'll take this AlkaSeltzer stuff Pisanio gave me. Seeing as how it's , this will probably result in a plot twist.

Cloten: Hah! I am so cool! I am a prince! Bow and worship me.
Polydore/Guiderius: No, sorry, I'd rather kill you.

Polydore/Guilderius: Hah! I won. I will now throw his head in the river.
Belarius: Okay, but we have to give the rest of his body a proper burial.
Cadwal/Averigus: Aw, you're no fun at all.

Polydore/Guilderius: Dangit, Fidele's dead too.
Cadwal/Averigus: Darn. Let's put the two bodies next to each other.
Polydore/Guilderius: Why?
Cadwal/Averigus: Why not?

Imogen/Fidele: Oh! It's a guy wearing Posthumus' clothes! My love is dead! Wahhhhh!
Cloten's Body: Doesn't this sound rather a lot like Romeo and Juliet?
Imogen/Fidele: Quiet, you.

Roman Guy: Hey, I'm going to fight Cymbeline. Want to be my squire?
Imogen/Fidele: You meet me in the woods next to a dead body and you ask me to be your squire?
Roman Guy: Sure, what's wrong with that?

Cymbeline: The queen's upset that her son's not here.
Pisanio: Like we care.

Pisanio: Y'know, I've completely lost track of the plot. I have no idea what's going on with Imogen, Posthumus, or Cloten. Oh well. It was confusing anyway.

Polydore/Guiderius: Hey, cool, fighting.
Cadwal/Averigus: Fun! Let's join them and fight too.

Posthumus: Maybe it was a yucky generalization to say all women are scum-sucking slimeballs. I feel bad now.

Iachimo: Maybe it was mean to take their rings and tokens and make them mad at each other. I feel bad now.

[Big fight between Cymbeline's guys -- the Britons -- and the Romans. Imogen is on the Roman side, but all the other major characters are on Cymbeline's side.]
Roman Guy: Okay, time to retreat.
Other Roman Guy: We haven't actually lost, you know.
Roman Guy: Are you kidding? The play's named after the other guy, and our characters aren't even given names at all. Gee, who do you think's gonna win?

Roman Lord: You know, you made the Britons win. Therefore we don't like you, so we're gonna put you in prison.
Posthumus: Am I supposed to care or something?

Jupiter: I like you, Posthumus. I just thought I'd mention that.
Posthumus: (blinks) Thanks, I guess.

{Author: You know, this last scene is really just Shakespeare telling the whole play over again so all the minor characters have all the info and everything becomes clear. If you want the full effect, go back to the top and read the play over again. But I'm not going to spell it all out again here. Suffice to say, everything works out and is happy and sweet. Kay?}

Everybody:
Yay us.