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Imo. No, my Lord:

I've got two worlds by't.

Oh, my gentle brothers,

Have we thus met? oh, never fay hereafter,

But I am truest speaker.

You call'd me brother,

When I was but your fifter; I, you brothers,

When ye were so indeed.

Cym. Did you e'er meet?

Arv. Ay, my good Lord.

Guid. And at first meeting lov'd;
Continued fo, until we thought he dy'd.

Cor. By the Queen's dram the fwallow'd.
Cym. O rare instinct !

When shall I hear all through? this fierce abridgment
Hath to it circumftantial branches, which

Distinction fhould be rich in.-Where? how liv'd you?
And when came you to ferve our Roman captive?
How parted with your brothers? how first met them?
Why fled you from the court? and whither?-Thefe &
And your three motives to the battle, with

I know not how much more, fhould be demanded ;.
And all the other by-dependences

From chance to chance: but not the time, nor place,
Will ferve long interrogatories. See,,
Pofthumus anchors upon Imogen;

And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brothers, me, her mafter; hitting
Each object with a joy. The counter change
Is fev'rally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our facrifices.
Thou art my brother; fo we'll hold thee ever.

[To Belarius

Imo. You are my father too, and did relieve me, To fee this gracious feafon !

Cym. All o'erjoy'd,

Save chefe in bonds : let them be joyful too,

For they fhall tafte our comfort.

Imo. My good mafter,

I will yet do you service.

Luc. Happy be you!

Gym. The forlorn foldier, that fo nobly fought,. He would have well become this place, and grac'd The thankings 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,
Speak, Iachimo, I had you down, and might
Have made your finish.

Iach. I am down again.

But now my heavy confcience finks my knee,

[Kneels.

And then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech you,
Which I fo often owe: but, your ring first ;
And here the bracelet of the truest princess
That ever fwore her faith.

Poft. Kneel not to me.

The power that I have on you, is to spare you ;;
The malice tow'rds you, to forgive you. Live,,
And deal with others better!

Cym. Nobly doom'd:

We'll learn our freenefs 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 ;

Joy'd are we that you are.

Poft. Your fervant, princes.

*Poft. Your fervant, princes. Good my Lord of Rome, Call forth your Soothsayer. As I flept, methought

Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back'd,

Appear'd to me, with other fprightly fhews

Of mine own kindred. When I wak'd, I found

This label on my bofom; whofe containing

Is fo from fenfe in hardness, that I can
Make no collection of it. Let him fhew.
His skill in the conftruction.

Luc. Philarmonus,

Sooth. Here, my good Lord.

Luc Read, and declare the meaning.

Reads.

"When as a lion's whelp fhall, to himself unknown, without feck. "ing find, and be embrac'd by piece of tender air; and when, from a ftately cedar fhall be lopt branches, which, being dead many years, "fhall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow, then "fhall P @humus erd his miferies, Britain be fortunate, and flourish "in peace and plenty,"

Thou, Leonatus, art the Hon's whelp;
The fit and apt conftruction of thy name,

Cym. My 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
We were diffuaded by our wicked Queen ;

On whom heav'n's juftice (both on her and her's)
Hath laid most heavy hand.

Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do tune
The harmony of this peace: the vifion

Which I made known to Lucius ere the stroke
Of this yet fcarce-cold battle, at this inftant
Is full accomplish'd. For the Roman eagle,
From fouth to weft on wing foaring aloft,
Leffen'd herself, and in the beams o' th' fun
So yanifh'd; which fore-fhew'd our princely eagle,
Th' Imperial Cæfar, fhould again unite

His favour with the radiant Cymbeline,
Which fhines here in the welt.

Gym. Laud we the gods!

And let the crooked fmoaks climb to their noftrils
From our bless'd altars! publish we this peace

To all our fubjects.

Set we forward: let

A Roman and a British enfign wave

Friendly together; fo through Lud's town march; And in the temple of great Jupiter

Our peace we'll ratify. Seal it with feafts.

Set on, there never was a war did cease,

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

Being Leonatus, doth import fo much.

The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,
Which we call Mollis Aer; and Mollis Aer
We term it Mulier: which Mulier, I divine,
Is this most conftant wife; who, even now,
Anfwering the letter of the oracle,

Unknown to you, unfought, were clipt about
With this moft tender air.

Cym. This has fome feeming.

Sooth. The lofty cedar, Royal Cymbeline,
Perfonates thee; and thy lopt branches point
Thy two fons forth: who, by Belarius ftoln,
For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd,
To the majestic cedar join'd; whose iffue
Promifes Britain peace and plenty.
Cym. My peace we will begin, &c.

[Exeunt omnes.

[To Cymbeline

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SCENE, Troy; and the Grecian camp before it.

This flory was originally written by Lollius an old Lombard au thor, and fince by Chaucer. It is alfo found in an old English storybook of the three deftructions of Troy; from which many of the circumstances in this play are borrowed, they being to be found no where else.

Before this play, printed in 1609, is a bookfeller's preface, fhewing that first imprefion to have been before the play had been acted; and that it was published without Shakespear's knowledge, from a copy that had fallen into the book feller's hands. Mr Dryden thinks this one of the firit of our author's plays: but, on the contrary, it may be judged from the forementioned preface, that it was one of his laft and the great number of obfervations, both moral and politic, (with which this piece is crouded more than any other of his), feems to. confirm my opinion.

1

PRO

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LOGUE.

N Troy, there lies the fcene: from ifles of Greece
The princes orgillous, their high blood chaf'd,
Have to the port of Athens fent their fhips,
Fraught with the minifters and inftruments
Of cruel war. Sixty and nine that wore
Their crownets regal, from th' Athenian bag
Put forth toward Phrygia, and their vow is made
To ranfack Troy; within whofe ftrong immures,
The ravifh'd Helen, Menelaus' Queen,

With wanton Paris fleeps; and that's the quarrel.
To Tenedos they come

And the deep drawing barks do there difgorge
Their warlike fraughtage. Now on Dardan plains,
The fresh and yet unbruifed Greeks do pitch
Their brave pavilions. Priam's fix gates i' th' city,
(Dardan, and Thymbria, Ilia, Scaa, Troian,
And Antenorides), with may staples,

And correfponfive and fulfilling bolts,
Sperre up the fons of Troy..

Now expection tickling fkittish spirits
On one and other fide, Trojan and Greek,
Sets all on hazard. And hither am I come
A prologue arm'd, (but not in confidence
Of author's pen, or actor's voice; but fuited
In like condition as our argument)

To tell you, (fair beholders), that our play
Leaps o'er the vaunt and firftlings of those broils,
'Ginning i' th' middle; ftarting thence away,
To what may be digefted in a play.

Like, or find fault,do as your pleasures are ;
Now good, or bad, 'tis but the chance of war.

Troi.

.

ACT I. SCENE I.

C

The palace in Troy.

Enter Pandarus and Troilus,

ALL here my varlet; I'll unarm again. Why should I war without the walls of Troy, That find fuccruel battle here within? Each Trojan that is mafter of his heart,

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