The benediction of these covering Heavens Fall on their heads, liks dew, for they are worthie Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'st: The Service that you three have done, is more 420 Unlike, then this thou tell'st. I lost my Children, If these be they, I know not how to wish A payre of worthier Sonnes. Bel. Be pleas'd awhile; This Gentleman, whom I call Polidore, Most worthy Prince, as yours, is true Guiderius: Cym. Guiderius had Upon his necke a Mole, a sanguine Starre, Bel. This is he, Who hath upon him still that naturall stampe: Cym. Oh, what am I A Mother to the byrth of three? Nere Mother Imo. No, my Lord: 429 440 I have got two Worlds by't. Oh my gentle Brothers, Have we thus met? Oh never say heereafter 417. liks: like-2-4F. But I am truest speaker. You call'd me Brother When I was but your Sister: I you Brothers, Cym. Did you ere meete? Arvi. I my good Lord. Gui. And at first meeting lov'd, Continew'd so, untill we thought he dyed. Corn. By the Queenes Dramme she swallow'd. 450 When shall I heare all through? This fierce abridgment, Hath to it Circumstantiall branches, which Distinction should be rich in. Where? how liv'd you? I know not how much more should be demanded, From chance to chance? But nor the Time, nor Place Posthumus Anchors upon Imogen; 470 And she (like harmlesse Lightning) throwes her eye And smoake the Temple with our Sacrifices. [To Belarius] Thou art my Brother, so wee'l hold thee ever. Imo. You are my Father too, and did releeve me: To see this gracious season. Cym. All ore-joy'd Save these in bonds, let them be joyfull too, 450. we: ye-2RowE. 461. Brother: brothers-2ROWE 467. Interrogatories: inter'gatories-MALONE. For they shall taste our Comfort. 479 yet do you service. Cym. The forlorne Souldier, that no Nobly fought He would have well becom'd this place, and grac'd The thankings of a King. Post. I am Sir The Souldier that did company these three In poore beseeming: 'twas a fitment for The purpose I then follow'd. That I was he, Iach. [Kneeling] I am downe againe: 490 But now my heavie Conscience sinkes my knee, And heere the Bracelet of the truest Princesse That ever swore her Faith. Post. Kneele not to me: The powre that I have on you, is to spare you: Cym. Nobly doom'd: Wee'l learne our Freenesse of a Sonne-in-Law: 500 Arvi. You holpe1 us Sir, As you did meane indeed to be our Brother, Joy'd are we, that you are. 1 belped Post. Your Servant Princes. Good my Lord of Rome Call forth your Sooth-sayer: As I slept, me thought Great Jupiter upon his Eagle back'd Appear'd to me, with other sprightly shewes 480. new 1. at I-POPE. 510. sprightly: spritely-STEEVENS (1793). 510 482. No: So-2-4F. Of mine owne Kindred. When I wak'd, I found Is so from sense in hardnesse, that I can Make no Collection 1 of it. Let him shew His skill in the construction. Luc. Philarmonus. Sooth. Heere, my good Lord. Luc. Read, and declare the meaning. When as a Lyons whelpe, shall to himselfe unknown, with-out seeking finde, and bee embrac'd by a peece of tender | Ayre: And when from a stately Cedar shall be lopt branches, | which being dead many yeares, shall after revive, bee joynted to | the old Stocke, and freshly grow, then shall Posthumus end his | miseries, Britaine be fortunate, and flourish in Peace and Plen- | tie. Thou Leonatus art the Lyons Whelpe, The fit and apt Construction of thy name [To Cymbeline] The peece of tender Ayre, thy vertu ous Daughter, Which we call Mollis Aer, and Mollis Aer Cym. This hath some seeming. Sooth. The lofty Cedar, Royall Cymbeline Personates thee: And thy lopt Branches, point Thy two Sonnes forth: who by Belarius stolne For many yeares thought dead, are now reviv'd 530 540 To the Majesticke Cedar joyn'd; whose Issue Cym. Well, My Peace we will begin: And Caius Lucius, To pay our wonted Tribute, from the which Whom heavens in Justice both on her, and hers, 550 Sooth. The fingers of the Powres above, do tune Which I made knowne to Lucius ere the stroke His Favour, with the Radiant Cymbeline, Cym. Laud we the Gods, 560 And let our crooked Smoakes climbe to their Nostrils From our blest Altars. Publish we this Peace To all our Subjects. Set we forward: Let A Roman, and a Brittish Ensigne wave Friendly together: so through Luds-Towne march, Our Peace wee'l ratifie: Seale it with Feasts. 570 (Ere bloodie hands were wash'd) with such a Peace. FINIS. 555. yet this: this yet-3-4F. Exeunt. |