And let it be confiscate all, so soon As I've receiv'd it. Cym. Nurfing of my Sons? Bel. I am too blunt, and fawcy; here's Ere I arife, I will prefer my Sons, my knee :: Then spare not the old Father. Mighty Sir, Cym. How? my iffue? Bel. So fure as you, your Father's: I, old Morgan, For That which I did then. Beaten for loyalty, Cym. Thou weep'ft, and fpeak'ft: The fervice, that you three have done, is more A pair of worthier Sons. Bel. Be pleas'd a while This Gentleman, whom I call Paladour, Moft worthy Prince, as yours, is true Guiderius: Your Your younger princely Son; he, Sir, was lapt Cym. Guiderius had Upon his neck a mole, a fanguine ftar; Bel. This is he; Who hath upon him ftill that natʼral stamp : Cym. Oh, what am I A Mother to the birth of three! ne'er Mother Imo. No, my Lord: I've got two worlds by't. Oh, my gentle Brothers, But I am trueft fpeaker. You call'd me Brother, Cym. Did you e'er meet? Arv. Ay, my good Lord. Guid. And at first meeting lov'd; Continu'd fo, until we thought he died. Cor. By the Queen's dram fhe swallow'd. When fhall I hear all through? this fierce abridgment Diftinction fhould be rich in.-Where? how liv'd you? And when came you to ferve our Roman Captive? How parted with your Brothers? how firft met them? (58) Why fled you from the Court? and whither? — These, And (58) Why fled you from the Court, and whether thefe ?] By a ftrange Negligence, in all the Editions, this Paffage is ftark Nonfenfe. One Part of the Miftake made is in the Word, whether; and another, is, in the falfe Pointing. It must be rectified thus; Why fled you from the Court? and whither? Thefe, &c. The King is asking his Daughter, how She has liv'd fince her Elope ment And your three motives to the battel, with I know not how much more, fhould be demanded And all the other Bye-dependances ノ From chance to chance: but not the time, nor place, Will ferve long interrogatories. See, Pofthumus anchors upon Imogen; And fhe, like harmless lightning, throws her eye Thou art my Brother; fo we'll hold thee ever. [To Bel. Cym. All o'er-joy'd, Save thefe in bonds: let them be joyful too, For they fhall tafte our comfort. Imo. My good master, I will yet do you service. Luc. Happy be you! Cym. The forlorn Soldier, that fo nobly fought, He would have well becom'd this place, and grac'd The thankings of a King. Poft. 'Tis I am, Sir, The Soldier, that did company these three, In poor Befeeming: 'twas a fitment for The purpose I then follow'd. That I was he, Iach. I am down again: But now my heavy conscience finks my knee, [Kneels. And here the bracelet of the trueft Princess, Poft. Kneel not to me: ment from the Court; when She enter'd herself in Lucius's Service; how the met with her Brothers, or parted from them; why She fled from the Court, and to what Place: And having enumerated fo many Particulars, he ftops fhort, and cries, "All these Circumftances, and the Motives of "Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus to the Battle, together with a "Number more of Occurrences by the Bye, I want to be refolv'd in." The The power, that I have on you, is to spare you: Cym. Nobly doom'd: We'll learn our freeness of a fon-in-law; Arv. You help'd us, Sir, As you did mean, indeed, to be our brother; Poft. Your fervant, Princes. Good my lord of Rome, Call forth your Soothsayer: as I lept, methought, Great Jupiter upon his cagle back'd, Appear'd to me, with other sprightly fhews Luc. Philarmonus, Sooth. Here, my good Lord. Luc. Read, and declare the meaning. [Reads.] WHEN as a lion's whelp shall, to bimself unknown. without feeking find, and be embrac'd by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar fhall be lopt. branches, which, being dead many years, fhall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then fball Pofthumus end his miferies, Britaine be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty. Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp; [To Cymb. Which we call Mollis Aer; and Mollis Aer Is this moft conftant wife; who, even now, Unknown to you, unfought, were clipt about Cym. This hath fome Seeming. Sooth. Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Perfonates thee; and thy lopt branches point Thy two Sons forth: who, by Belarius ftoll'n, For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, To the majestick cedar join'd; whofe Iffue Promifes Britaine peace and plenty. Cym. My peace we will begin, and, Caius Lucius, Although the victor, we submit to Cæfar, And to the Roman Empire; promifing, To pay our wonted tribute, from the which We were diffuaded by our wicked Queen; On whom heav'n's justice (both on her, and hers) Hath laid moft heavy hand. Sooth. The fingers of the Powers above do tune The harmony of this peace: the vifion, Which I made known to Lucius ere the ftroke Of this yet fcarce-cold battel, at this instant Is full accomplish'd. For the Roman eagle, From South to Weft on wing foaring aloft, Leffen'd her felf, and in the beams o'th' Sun So vanish'd; which fore-fhew'd our princely Eagle, Th' imperial Cæfar, fhould again unite His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which fhines here in the Weft. Cym. Laud we the Gods! And let the crooked fmoaks climb to their Noftrils From our bleft altars! publish we this Peace To all our Subjects. Set we forward let A Roman and a British Enfign wave Friendly together; fo through Lud's town march: Our Peace we'll ratifie. Seal it with feafts. Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with fuch a Peace. " The End of the Sixth Volume. |