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It was wise nature's end in the donation,
To be his evidence now.

Cym. O, what am I
A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother
Rejoic'd deliverance more :-Bless'd may you be,
That, after this strange starting from your orbs,
You may reign in them now !- Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.

Imo. No, my lord ;
I have got two worlds by't.-0 my gentle brother,
Have we thus met: () never say hereafter,
But I am truest speaker : you call'd me brother,
When I was but your sister ; I you brothers,
When you were so indeed.

Cym. Did you e'er meet?
Arv. Ay, my good lord.

Gui. And at first meeting lov'd;
Continued so, until we thought he died.

Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd.

Cym. Ó rare instinct ! When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgement4 Hath to it circumstantial branches, which Distinction should be rich in 5–Where? how liv'd you ? And when came you to serve our Roman captive? How parted with your brothers ? how first met them? Why fled you from the court ? and whither ? These, And your three motives to the battle, 6 with I know not how much more, should be demanded ; And all the other by-dependencies From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor place, Will serve our long intergatories. See, Posthumus anchors upon Imogen ; And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye On him, her brothers, me, her master ; hitting Each object with a joy ; the counterchange Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground, And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.Thou art my brother ; So we'll hold thee ever. [TO BEL.

Imo. You are my father too ; and did relieve me,

[4] Fierce-is vehement, rapid. JOHNSON

[5] Which ought to be rendered distinct by a liberal amplitude of nar. rative. STEEVENS.

[6]. That is, though strangely expressed, the motives of you thręe for engaging in the battle. So, in Romeo and Juliet, « both our remedies" means, the remedy for us both. M. MASON

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To see this gracious season.

Cym. All o'er-joy'd,
Save these in bonds; let them be joyful too,
For they shall taste our confort.

Imo. My good master,
I will yet do you service.

Luc. Happy be you !

Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought,
He would have well becom'd this place, and grace
The thankings of a king.

Post. I am, sir,
The soldier that did company these three
In poor beseeming ; 'twas a fitment for
The purpose I then follow'd ;– That I was he,
Speak, lachimo; I had you down, and might
Have made you finish.
lach. I am down again :

[Kneeling
But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee,
As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech you,
Which I so often owe : but, your ring first;
And here the bracelet of the truest princess,
That ever swore her faith.

Post. Kneel not to me ;
The power that I have on you, is to spare you;
The malice towards you, to forgive you : Live,
And deal with others better.

Cym. Nobly doom'd:
We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law ;
Pardon's the word to all.

Arv. You holp us, sir,
As you did mean indeed to be our brother;
Joy'd are we, that you are.

Post. Your servant, princes.-Good my lord of Rome,
Call forth your soothsayer; As I slept, methought,
Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back,
Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows
Of mine own kindred: when I wak’d, I found
This label on my bosom; whose containing
Is so from sense in hardness, that I can
Make no collection of it ;7 let him show
-His skill in the construction.

Luc. Philarmonus,

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[7] A collection is a corollary, a consequence deduced from the premises Whose containing, means, the contents of which, STEEVENS

Sooth. Here, my good lord.
Luc. Read, and declare the meaning.

Sooth. [Reads.) When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air ; and when from a stately cedar shall be lonped branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow ; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Bria tain be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty. Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp ; The fit and apt construction of thy name, Being Leo-natus, doth import so much :

The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, [70 Cym.
Which we call mollis aer ; and mollis aer
We term it mulier : which mulier I divine,
Is this most constant wife ; who, even now,
Answering the letter of the oracle,
Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about
With this most tender air.

Cym. This hath some seeming.

Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,
Personates thee : and thy lopp'd branches point
Thy two sons forth : whó, by Belarius stolen,
For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd,
To the majestic cedar join'd; whose issue
Promises Britain peace and plenty.

Cym. Well,
My peace we will begin :-and, Caius Lucius,
Although the victor, we submit to Cæsar,
And to the Roman empire ; promising
To pay our wonted tribute, from the which
We were dissuaded by our wicked queen ;
Whom heavens, in justice, (both on her, and hers,)
Have laid most heavy hand.

Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do tune
The harmony of this peace. The vision
Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke
Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant
Is full accomplish'd : For the Roman eagle,
From south to west on wing soaring aloft,
Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o’the sun
So vanish'd : which foreshow'd our princely eagle,
The imperial Cæsar, should again unite
His favour with the radiant Cymbeline,

Which shines here in the west.

Cym. Laud we the gods ;
And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils
From our bless'd altars ! Publish we this peace
To all our subjects. Set we forward : Let
A Roman and a British ensign wave
Friendly together : so through Lud's town march :
And in the temple of great Jupiter
Our peace we'll ratify ; seal it with feasts.-
Set on there :-Neyer was a war did cease,
Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace.

[Exeunt.

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Sung by GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS, over FIDELE, supposed to

be dead.

BY MR. WILLIAM COLLINS.

To fair Fidele's grassy tomb

Soft maids, and village hinds, shall bring
Each np’ning sweet, of earliest bloom,

And rifle all the breathing spring.
No wailing ghost shall dare appear

To vex with shrieks this quiet grove;
But shepherd lads assemble here,

And melting virgins own their love.

No wither'd witch shall here be seen,

No goblins lead their nightly crew:
The female fays shall haunt the green,

And dress thy grave with pearly dew.

The red-breast oft at evening hours

Shall kindly lend his little aid,
With boary moss, and gather'd lowers,
To deck the ground where thou art laid.

When howling winds, and beating rain,

In tempests shake the sylvan cell;
Or midst the chace on every plain,

The tender thought on thee shall dwell.

Each lonely scene shall thee restore;

For thee the tear be duly shed:
Belov'd, till life could charm no more;

And mourn'd till pity's self be dead.

IND OF VOL. VII.

MUNROE & FRANCIS'

Third Edition.

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