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The soldier, that did company these three,
Iach. I am down again :
Post. Kneel not to me:
Cym. Nobly doom'd:
Arv. You help'd us, Sir,
Post. Your servant, Princes. Good my lord of Rome,
[Reads.] WHEN as a lion's whelp hall, to himself unknown,
without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air ; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopt
branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, ITA be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall His Posthumus end his miseries, Britaine be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty.
G Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp;
Fron The fit and apt construction of thy name,
TO Being Leonatus, doth import fo much :
AR The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,
And Which we call Mollis Aer; and Mollis Aer We term it Mulier : which Mulier, I divine, Is this most constant wife; who, even now,
Ere Answering the letter of the Oracle, Unknown to you, unsought, were clipt about With this most tender air.
Cym. This has some seeming.
Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,
Cym. My peace we will begin, and, Caius Lucius,
Sooth. The singers of the Powers above do tune
Th’imperial Cæfar, should again unite
Cym. Laud we the Gods !