Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd.
Cym. O rare instinct!

When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgment
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which
821
Distinction should be rich in.-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, 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 interrogatories. 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 counter-change
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.

830

[To BELARIUS.

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

Imo. My good master,

I will yet do you service.

Luc. Happy be you!

840

Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, He would have well becom❜d this place, and grac`d

The

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, Iachimo; I had you down, and might
Have made you finish.

Iach. I am down again:

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But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, [Kneels.

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.

860

870

Post. 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 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: let him shew

When 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 stately cedar shall be lopt branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain 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,

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[To CYMBELINE.

Which we call mollis aër; and mollis aër

We term it mulier: which mulier, I divine,

Is this most constant wife; [ To POST.] who, even now,
Answering the letter of the oracle,

Unknown to you, unsought, were clip'd about
With this most tender air.

Cym. This hath some seeming.

Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee: and thy lopt branches point Thy two sons forth: who, by Belarius stolen, For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, To the majestick cedar join'd; whose issue

Promises Britain peace and plenty.

N

900

Cym.

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;

910

On whom heaven's justice (both on her, and her's),
Hath lay'd 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

920

So vanish'd: which fore-shew'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 blest altars! Publish we this peace

To all our subjects. Set we forward: Let
A Roman and a British ensign wave

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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 :-Never was a war did cease,

Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace.

[Exeunt omnes.

A SONG,

A SONG, sung by GUIDERIUS and ARVIKAGUS over FIDELE, supposed to be dead.

By Mr. WILLIAM COLLINS,

1.

To fair Fidele's grassy tomb,

Soft maids, and village hinds shall bring
Each op'ning sweet, of earliest bloom,
And rifle all the breathing spring.

2.

No wailing ghost shall dare appear
To vex with shrieks this quiet grove:
But shepherd lads assemble here,
And melting virgins own their love.

3.

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.

4.

The red-breast oft at ev'ning hours
Shall kindly lend his little aid,
With hoary moss, and gather'd flowers,
To deck the ground where thou art laid.

When