Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd. When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgment I know not how much more, should be demanded; From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor place, And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye 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, Iach. I am down again: 850 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, Post. Kneel not to me: The power that I have on you, is to spare you; 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 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 piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, 890 [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, Unknown to you, unsought, were clip'd about 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, 910 On whom heaven's justice (both on her, and her's), Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do tune 920 So vanish'd: which fore-shew'd, our princely eagle, Cym. Laud we the gods; And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils To all our subjects. Set we forward: Let 939 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 2. No wailing ghost shall dare appear 3. No wither'd witch shall here be seen, 4. The red-breast oft at ev'ning hours When |