The purpose I then follow'd;-That I was he, Iach. 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; Cym. We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law; Pardon's the word to all. As Aro. Nobly doom'd; You holp us, sir, 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 6 Of mine own kindred: when I wak'd, I found Luc. Sooth. Here, my good lord. Philarmonus, Read, and declare the meaning. 6 -spritely shows-] Are groups of sprites, ghostly ap pearances. 7 Make no collection of it ;] A collection is a corollary, a consequence deduced from premises. 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 lopped 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; [To CYMBELINE. Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about Cym. This hath some seeming. Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee: and thy lopp'd 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. Cym. Well, My peace we will begin :And, Caius Lucius, 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 His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Cym. Laud we the gods; And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils Friendly together: so through Lud's town march: Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts.- This play has many just sentiments, some natural dialogues, and some pleasing scenes, but they are obtained at the expence of much incongruity. To remark the folly of the fiction, the absurdity of the conduct, the confusion of the names, and manners of different times, and the impossibility of the events in any system of life, were to waste criticism upon unresisting imbecility, upon faults too evident for detection, and too gross for aggravation. JOHNSON. See page 95, note 7. A SONG, 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 opening sweet, of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring. No wailing ghost shall dare appear And melting virgins own their love. No wither'd witch shall here be seen, The red-breast oft at evening hours When howling winds, and beating rain, Each lonely scene shall thee restore; |