And fhe, like harmless lightning, throws her eye Thou art my brother, fo we'll hold thee ever. [To Bellarius. Cym. All o'er-joy'd, Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too, For they fhall tafte our comfort. Imo. My good master, I will yet do you fervice. Luc. Happy be you! Cym. The forlorn foldier that fo nobly fought, He would have well becom'd this place, and grae'd The thinkings of a King. Poft. 'Tis I am, Sir, The foldier 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 confcience finks my knee, [Kneels. As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech you, Which I fo often owe: but your ring first, And here your bracelet of the trueft Princess Poft. Kneel not to me: The power that I have on you, is to fpare you: Cym. Nobly doom'd: We'll learn our freeness of a fon-in-law; Pardon's the word to all. Arv. You help'd'us, Sir, As you did mean indeed to be our brother; Poft Poft. Your fervant, Princes. * Cym. By peace we will begin: and, Caius Lucius, Although the victor, we fubmit to Cæfar, And to the Roman Empire; promifing To pay our wonted tribute, from the which -----Poft. Your fervant, Princes. Good my Lord of Rome, Call forth your Soothsayer: as I flept, methought Appear'd to me with other fprightly fhews Luc. Philarmonus! Sooth. Here, my good Lord. Luc. Read, and declare the meaning. [Reads.] ། When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without fecking find, and be embrac'd by a piece of tender air; and when from a ftately cedar fhall be lopt branches, which being dead many years, Shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow, then Shall Pothumus and his miferies, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty. Thou, Leonatms, art the lion's whelp; The fit and apt conftruction of thy name Being Leonatus, doth import fo much: The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, [To Cymbeline, We term it Mulier: which Mulier I divine Unknown to you, unfought, were clipt about Cym. This hath fome feeming. Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, On whom heav'n's juftice (both on her, and hers) Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do tune Which I made known to Lucius ere the ftroke His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Cym. Laud we the Gods! And let the crooked fmoaks climb to their noftrile A Roman and a British enfign wave Friendly together; fo through Lud's town march, Our peace we'll ratific. Seal it with feafts. Ere bloody hands were wafh'd, with fuch a peace. [Exeunt omnes. The End of the EIGHTH VOLUME. |