Cymbeline  first appeared in print in 1623, as the final play in Shakespeare’s First Folio. The catalogue lists the play amongst tragedies like King Lear, Hamlet and Macbeth. Yet, as one of Shakespeare’s ‘late plays’ (the plays composed in the latter stages of his writing career), Cymbeline resists neat categorisation. The play includes a lot of the tropes we expect from Shakespeare’s tragedies: murder, war and poison, to name a few. Cymbeline ends, however, on a more positive note. Peace is restored, families are reunited and – in a particularly fantastical moment – the god, Jupiter, descends from the sky ‘upon an eagle’ to offer a hopeful prophecy.

We might attribute this blurring of genre to Shakespeare’s ‘late’ style, through which he experimented with new dramatic techniques and forms. But in Cymbeline, Shakespeare is also particularly fond of revisiting his earlier plays. Indeed, Shakespeare scholars have linked this play to twenty-two others in the playwright’s canon. So, whilst Cymbeline is experimental, it is also uniquely self-conscious.

The play opens in the royal court of King Cymbeline, who ruled ancient Britain from 33 BCE to 2 CE. In the first scene, two gentlemen quickly bring the audience up to speed: Cymbeline’s daughter, Innogen, has defied her father’s instructions to marry her stepbrother, Cloten. Instead, she has secretly married a ‘poor but worthy’ gentleman called Posthumus. As punishment, Cymbeline exiles Posthumus from England and imprisons Innogen, proclaiming his daughter to be a traitor to her bloodline. Shakespeare’s choice to open the play in this way immediately reminds us of King Lear, an earlier tragedy which similarly begins with a breakdown in the relationship between a royal father and his daughter.

In Innogen and Posthumus, we might also recognise another pair of ‘star-crossed lovers’, who are constantly thwarted by overbearing fathers, miscommunication and manipulation. Enter Iachimo. Arriving in Rome, the exiled Posthumus boasts about the chaste beauty of his English bride. The villainous Italian, Iachimo, quickly spots an opportunity to play an Iago-esque role in this story. Just as Iago uses Othello’s handkerchief to ‘prove’ Desdemona’s infidelity, Iachimo steals the bracelet given to Innogen by Posthumus in order to convince Posthumus that his wife has been unfaithful. And, like Othello, Posthumus’ love for his wife is quickly overshadowed by his jealousy. He writes home to his servant, Pisanio, and orders him to murder Innogen in the Welsh town of Milford Haven.

Thankfully, Pisanio decides to help Innogen, by putting her in the disguise of a male page and sending her into the safety of the Welsh countryside. In the role of Fidele, Innogen happens to bump into Arviragus and Guiderius: her long-lost brothers who were thought to have died as children. Only, the siblings do not recognise each other, having been separated for many years. Innogen’s disguise links Cymbeline to several Shakespeare plays that similarly blur the boundaries of gender, such as The Merchant of Venice or As You Like It. There are particularly strong links between the use of this trope in Cymbeline and Twelfth Night. Just as Sebastian recognises something of himself in the disguised Viola, asking ‘what kin are you to me’, Innogen’s rugged brother, Arviragus, immediately promises to love Fidele ‘as my brother’. In this way, both plays explore how familial bonds transcend obstacles like distance, time or disguise.

All the while, Cymbeline is facing war with Rome. Within the time period that the play is set, Cymbeline – and Britain more widely – were under the rule of the Roman emperor Augustus. Each year, Britain was expected to pay a tribute to Rome, as a show of their respect and submission to the powerful empire. In Cymbeline, Shakespeare’s ancient Britain is one in the process of defining itself. Cymbeline’s Queen, in particular, advocates for a form of British identity which is distinct from Rome. At the encouragement of his wife, Cymbeline refuses to pay Rome its customary tribute, and Rome doesn’t take too kindly to this display of independence. Roman forces invade Britain and are eventually defeated through the intervention of Cymbeline’s long-lost sons. The play’s exploration of what it means to be British places it firmly in conversation with Shakespeare’s history plays.

At the same time, Britain’s historical identity is formed in the shadow of Augustus Caesar, a figure who also appears in Julius Caesar and Antony and Cleopatra by the names Octavius and Caesar. It is not surprising that Shakespeare’s reimagining of ancient Britain is linked to his plays set in Rome. Classical writings about ancient Britain were not particularly positive. Ancient Britons were often described as a marginal community living on the edge of the world, awaiting the civilising force of Roman invasion. Cymbeline offers a more sympathetic – and even empowering – version of British history. After all, the British forces are successful in preventing a Roman invasion, and peace with Rome is only restored at the end of the play because Cymbeline commands it.

Shakespeare lovers and novices alike will struggle to watch Cymbeline without drawing connections to his many other plays. Yet, Cymbeline is not simply the ‘greatest hits’ of Shakespeare rolled into one play. Rather, it is exactly the kind of play we may expect from a writer in the latter stages of his career. It resists neat interpretation, and part of the joy of watching Cymbeline is its explorative reflection on Shakespeare’s dramatic career.

Cymbeline plays in the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse from 10 January until 20 April. 

FINIS.