After Posthumus leaves Britain on a boat in accordance with his exile by King Cymbeline, Imogen uses a simile and a metaphor that describe her love for him. Speaking with Pisanio, Posthumus’s loyal servant, she states:
I would have broke mine eyestrings, cracked them, but
To look upon him till the diminution
Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle;
Nay, followed him till he had melted from
The smallness of a gnat to air; and then
Have turned mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio,
When shall we hear from him?
Because she is imprisoned in the castle, Imogen was not able to accompany Posthumus as he boarded the boat and sailed away from Britain to Italy. She claims that, had she been there, she would have watched him sail away so closely and for so long that she would have broken her eyes, focusing her gaze on him until he was as small “as my needle.” This simile emphasizes her devotion to Posthumus, as she would have continued to watch him until the boat was no larger than a small point on the horizon. Next, she claims that she would have continued to watch him until he “melted” from the “smallness of a gnat to air” before turning away and weeping, a metaphor that again emphasizes her love for Posthumus.
Annoyed by Posthumus’s insistence on the unrivaled virtues of his beloved Imogen, Iachimo claims that he could successfully seduce her with nothing more than a letter of introduction, a claim that Posthumus fiercely denies. In response, Iachimo uses a metaphor that compares the virtue of women to meat in order to argue that any woman can be corrupted eventually. Addressing Posthumus before the other courtiers in Italy, Iachimo states:
You are afraid, and therein the wiser. If you
buy ladies’ flesh at a million a dram, you cannot
preserve it from tainting. But I see you have some
religion in you, that you fear.
Even if “ladies’ flesh” is purchased at “a million a dram,” Iachimo claims, a man still “cannot / preserve it from tainting.” In other words, Iachimo argues that even seemingly refined and virtuous women can be corrupted, just as meat, even if purchased at great expense, still spoils once enough time has passed. Iachimo’s misogynistic metaphor suggests that seemingly virtuous women might hold off a little bit longer than their less chaste counterparts, but eventually they will submit to a man’s seduction attempts.
Here, as elsewhere in the play, Iachimo discusses women using language that is dismissive and that frames romance as an act of consumption. He then adds, in another metaphor, that Posthumus seems to have “religion” in him, treating his wife as if she is a god rather than a mortal, again attempting to knock Imogen off her pedestal.
When Posthumus arrives in Italy, he immediately begins to quarrel with the Italian and French courtiers about the virtue and worthiness of Imogen, antagonizing Iachimo, who feels that Posthumus must be exaggerating her good qualities. In response, Iachimo uses a series of military metaphors to support his argument that he could successfully seduce Imogen despite Posthumus’s confidence in her faithfulness:
With five times so much conversation I
should get ground of your fair mistress,
make her go back even to the yielding,
had I admittance and opportunity to friend.
Here, Iachimo presents a wager to Posthumus, claiming that, with just a small bit of conversation, he would be able to seduce Imogen. He uses a series of metaphors drawn from the language of warfare, stating that he could “get ground” of Imogen—or, in other words, his metaphorical army would be able to gain ground in battle against hers, forcing her to “go back” or retreat and, ultimately, to “yield” or submit to his attack. These martial metaphors are thoroughly conventional, drawing from the stock metaphors of romantic poetry in the early modern period, which often figure seduction as a battle between a man, the invading army, and a woman, the defending army.
After secretly entering Imogen’s bedroom by hiding in a chest, Iachimo waits until she has fallen asleep before exiting the chest and taking careful notes about her bedroom and body in order to convince Posthumus that he was successful in seducing his wife. In describing his deceptive plot, Iachimo metaphorically compares seduction to the picking of a lock:
On her left breast
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
I’ th’ bottom of a cowslip. Here’s a voucher
Stronger than ever law could make. This secret
Will force him think I have picked the lock and ta’en
The treasure of her honor. No more. To what end?
Why should I write this down that’s riveted,
Screwed to my memory?
Though he earlier failed to seduce Imogen, he realizes that he can make a strong case that he was successful if he makes intimate observations about her body, noting small details that only a lover should know about, like a small mole on her left breast. This observation, he notes in a metaphor, will serve as a “voucher” or a piece of evidence in a court of law. Next, he claims that his knowledge of Imogen’s body will trick Posthumus into believing that Iachimo has successfully “picked the lock and ta’en / The treasure of her honor.” Here, he uses the picking of a lock and the theft of treasure as a metaphor for seducing another man’s wife. There is an irony to his choice of metaphor: he has, after all, not skillfully picked a lock and stolen treasure, but rather disguised himself as treasure by hiding in a chest.
After failing to woo Imogen with music, Cloten considers a more underhanded strategy. Planning to bribe one of Imogen’s female attendants, he uses a legal metaphor:
I know her women are about her.
What If I do line one of their hands? ’Tis gold
Which buys admittance—oft it doth—yea, and makes
Diana’s rangers false themselves, yield up
Their deer to th’ stand o’ th’ stealer; and ’tis gold
Which makes the true man killed and saves the thief,
Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man.
What Can it not do and undo? I will make
One of her women lawyer to me, for
I yet not understand the case myself.
By your leave.
First, he notes that Imogen’s female attendants have access to her private quarters, and he weighs the possibility of bribing one of them to let him in so that he can speak with her. First, he alludes to the chaste goddess Diana, arguing that her “rangers” must occasionally deceive her in exchange for money. Gold, he muses, is an unpredictable power, sometimes helping the corrupt gain victory over the innocent, but sometimes leading both the innocent and the guilty to their deaths. He resolves to make one of the attendants serve as “lawyer” to him, as he does not yet understand the “case” himself. In this legal metaphor, he compares a bribed woman to a lawyer, who can help him make sense of this confusing “case” or situation, and further, can advocate on his behalf to Imogen just as a lawyer advocates for their client.
Hoping to prove that he truly did spend the night in Imogen’s bedchamber, Iachimo uses hyperbole, allusion, and metaphor when describing the carvings on Imogen’s chimney with rich detail:
The chimney
Is south the chamber, and the chimney-piece
Chaste Dian bathing: never saw I figures
So likely to report themselves: the cutter
Was as another nature, dumb; outwent her,
Motion and breath left out.
After locating the area of her room where the chimney is located, he describes the carved “chimney-piece,” which depicts “Chaste Dian bathing.” Here, he alludes to the “chaste” goddess of hunting and virginity, Diana, the Roman equivalent of the Greek Artemis, an allusion that is ironic given that he claims (falsely) that Imogen has been anything but chaste since Posthumus’s exile.
Hyperbolically, he claims that he never saw artistic images that seemed “so likely to report themselves" (that is, to come to life at any moment). The “cutter” or carver of the chimney-piece, Iachimo claims in a metaphor, must have been “another nature,” a god-like creator of an entire world. His depiction of Venus, he adds, outdoes the real goddess Venus, even if she can neither speak nor move, since “Motion and breath” have been “left out” of the world created by the sculptor.
After Iachimo provides seemingly solid evidence that he was successful in his attempt to seduce Imogen, Posthumus uses metaphors and allusions to express his disillusionment with Imogen in particular but also with women generally:
Is there no way for men to be but women
Must be half-workers? We are all bastards;
And that most venerable man which I
Did call my father, was I know not where
When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools
Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother seem'd
The Dian of that time so doth my wife
The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance!
Posthumus misogynistically laments the fact that women must be “half-workers” in human reproduction, implying that he wishes that men could be born without any involvement from women at all. All men, he claims, are “bastards” who cannot be sure of their paternity due to the infidelity of women. Angrily, Posthumus suggests that he cannot be sure that his own “venerable” father truly is his father, since he might be a “counterfeit” who was “stamp’d” by another “coiner.” In this layered metaphor, Posthumus compares humans to coins. Though the King's seal on a coin guarantees its authenticity, a clever forger can produce a counterfeit. In much the same way, Posthumus reasons, any man might use his “tools” (or genitalia) to produce a “counterfeit” child that another man then raises unknowingly as his own. He then alludes to Diana, the goddess of chastity, noting that his mother appeared to be an exemplar of chaste virtue, but now he feels he cannot be so sure due to his distrust of women.
Belarius attempts to discourage his two young wards, Arviragus and Guiderius, from traveling to the court to offer their services to the King who, unbeknownst to them, is their true father. He uses a number of metaphors that suggest that service and loyalty are not rewarded in the royal courts:
O boys, this story
The world may read in me: my body's mark'd
With Roman swords, and my report was once
First with the best of note: Cymbeline loved me,
And when a soldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off: then was I as a tree
Whose boughs did bend with fruit: but in one night,
A storm or robbery, call it what you will,
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
And left me bare to weather.
His own body, he claims metaphorically, is a book upon which anyone might read his “story” by examining the various wounds and scars that he gained while fighting against Roman soldiers. Earlier, he notes, he had a good reputation as a loyal soldier and was “loved” by the King himself. Using another metaphor, he states that he was a “tree” covered in “fruit,” suggesting that he did good work for the King and was rewarded for his efforts. One day, however, a “storm or robbery” shook all the fruit off his branches and left him “bare” of leaves and vulnerable to the weather. These botanical metaphors suggest that life in the courts is unpredictable, and the ill intentions of others can quickly and unfairly leave a person empty-handed.
Though they care deeply for Belarius, who has raised them as his own children, Arviragus and Guiderius remain unconvinced by his argument that they should avoid the courts and stay in the remote countryside. Guiderius uses a series of metaphors to express his dissatisfaction with his own lack of worldly experience:
Out of your proof you speak: we, poor unfledged,
Have never wing'd from view o' the nest, nor know not
What air's from home. Haply this life is best,
If quiet life be best; sweeter to you
That have a sharper known; well corresponding
With your stiff age: but unto us it is
A cell of ignorance; travelling a-bed;
A prison for a debtor, that not dares
To stride a limit.
Guiderius argues that while Belarius’s critique of the courts might be valid, he is able to speak from personal experience, something that neither he nor his brother has, as they have spent their entire lives living (quite literally) under a rock. He compares himself in a metaphor to a bird that has never left the nest and has no experience navigating the open air. Though he concedes that life in the countryside might be preferable for an older person, he feels that he has been imprisoned in a “cell of ignorance,” or a “prison for a debtor,” seeing the world only from his own bed. The various metaphors that Guiderius employs, from a bird’s nest to a prison cell, suggest that he feels trapped in his remote and uneventful life.
While accompanying Imogen to Milford Haven, where she expects to meet her beloved Posthumus, Pisanio feels that he must disclose the truth: that Posthumus suspects her of infidelity and plots to kill her in revenge. Finally, he shows her the letter that he received from Posthumus, and he uses a series of metaphors to describe the pain that the letter has inflicted upon her:
What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper
Hath cut her throat already. No, 'tis slander,
Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath
Rides on the posting winds and doth belie
All corners of the world: kings, queens and states,
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave
This viperous slander enters. What cheer, madam?
The letter commands Pisanio to kill Imogen, but Pisanio notes sadly that he has no “need” to draw his sword, as the disclosure of the letter has, metaphorically, “cut her throat already.” He then modifies his claim, stating that it is not the letter but rather “slander” that wounds people with its sharp edges. He then compares slander, in a metaphor, to a snake that “outvenoms” all of the poisonous creatures found in the Nile river. Further developing this metaphor, he suggests that “viperous slander” can travel to all corners of the world quickly and with ease, afflicting royalty, whole nations, young and older women, and even the dead. Pisanio’s metaphor suggests that gossip spreads quickly and spares no one.
