Imatges de pÓgina

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

Imo. My good maitet,
I will yet do you can

Luc. Happy be you!

Cym. The forlorn foldier, ihat so nobly fought, He would have well become this place, and grac'd The thankings of a King.

Pot. 'Tis 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, Iachimo, I had you down, and might
Have made your finish.

lach. I am down again :
But now my heavy conscience finks my knec, Kneels.
And then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech you,
Which I so often owe: but, your ring first ;
And here the bracelet of the trueft Princess,
That ever swore her faith.

Post. Knecl not to me:
The power, that I have on you, is to spare you :
The malice tow'rds 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.

Aru. You help'd us, Sir,
did mean,

indeed, to be our brother; Joy'd are we, that you are.

Poft. Your servant, Princes. Good my lord of Rome, Call forth your Soothsayer. As I slept, methought, Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back’d, Appear'd to me, with other sprightly shews of inine 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. Let him fhew
His skill in the construction,

Luc. Phi'armonets,—
Sooth. Here, my good lord.
Luc. Read, and declare the meaning.

(Reads.] WHEN

HEN as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown,

without seeking find, and be embrac'd by a piece of tender air ; and when from a statelya cedar shall be lopt branches, which, being dead many years, fhall after revive, be jointed to the old lock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britaine be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty.

Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp ;
The fit and apt construction of thy name,
Being Leonałus, doth import so much :
The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,

[To Cymbeline.
Which we call Mollis Aer; and Mollis Aer
We term it Mulier: which Mulier, I divine,
Is this molt constant wife; who, even now,
Answering the letter of the Oracle,
Unknown to you, unsought, were clipt about
With this most tender air.

Cym. This has fome seeming.

Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Perfonates thee ; and thy lopt branches point Thy two fons forth: who, by Belarius stoll'n, For many years thought clead, are now reviv'd, To the majestic cedarjoin'd; whose Issue Promises Brilaine peace and plenty.

Cym. My peace we will begin, and, Caius Lucius, Although the vi&or, we submit no Cæsar, And to the Roman Empire ; promising, To pay our winted tribute, from the which We were dilluaded by our wicked Queen ;


On whom heav'n's justice (both on her, and hers)
Hath laid most heavy hand.

Sooth. The fingers of the Powers above do tune
The harmony of this peace: the vision,
Which I made known in Lucius

ere the stroke Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant Is full accomplish'd. For the Roman eagle, From fouth to weft on wing soaring aloft, Leffen'd herself, and in the beams o'th' fun So vanilh'd ; 'which fore-lhew'd oud princely eagle, Th' imperial Cæfar, should again unite His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west.

Cym. Laud we the Gods ! And let the crooked Smokes climb to their Nostrils From our blest allars! 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 ratisy. Seal it with fcafts. Set on, there: Never was a War did cease, Ere bloody hands were wafh'd, with such a Peace.

(Exeunt omnes.

The End of the Eighth Volume.

[ocr errors]
« AnteriorContinua »