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Scene IV.

That could stand up his parallel;

Or fruitful object be

In eye of Imogen, that best

Could deem his dignity?

Moth. With marriage wherefore

To be exil'd and thrown

From Leonati's seat, and cast

From her his dearest one,
Sweet Imogen ?

Sici. Why did you suffer Iachimo,
Slight thing of Italy,

To taint bis nobler heart and brain

With needless jealousy ;

And to become the geck

O' the other's villany?

and scorn

CYMBELINE.

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2 Bro. For this, from stiller seats we came,
Our parents, and us twain,

That, striking in our country's cause,
Fell bravely, and were slain;
Our fealty, and Tenantius' right,

With honour to maintain.

1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthúmus hath
To Cymbeline perform'd:

Then Jupiter, thou king of gods,
Why hast thou thus adjourn'd
The graces for his merits due;

Being all to dolours turn'd?

Sici. Thy crystal window ope; look out;
No longer exercise,

Upon a valiant race, thy harsh

And potent injuries:

Moth. Since, Jupiter, our son is good,
Take off his miseries.

Sici. Peep through thy marble mansion; help!

Or we poor ghosts will cry

To the shining synod of the rest,

Against thy deity.

2 Bro. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal,
And from thy justice fly.

JUPITER descends in Thunder and Lightning,
an eagle; he throws
sitting upon
Thunder-bolt. The Ghosts fall on their

knees.

a

Jup. No more, you petty spirits of region
[ghosts,
low,
Offend our hearing; hush!-How dare you
Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt you know,
Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts?
Poor shadows of Elysium, hence; and rest
Upon your never-withering banks of flowers:
Be not with mortal accidents opprest;

No care of your's it is, you know, 'tis our's.
Whom best I love, I cross; to make my gift,
The more delay'd, delighted. Be content;
Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift :

His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. Our jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in

Our temple was he married.-Rise, and fade !He shall be lord of lady Imogen,

And happier much by his affliction made.
This tablet lay upon his breast; wherein

Our pleasure his full fortune doth coutine;
And so, away: no further with your din
Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.-
Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline.

[Ascends.
Sici. He came in thunder; his celestial

breath

Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle
Stoop'd as to foot us: bis ascension is
More sweet than our bless'd fields: his royal
bird

Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his beak,
As when his god is pleas'd.

All. Thanks, Jupiter!

Sici. The marble pavement closes, he

enter'd

A father to me: and thou hast created
A mother and two brothers: But (O scorn!)
Gone they went heuce so soon as they were
[pend
born.
And so I am awake.-Poor wretches that de-
On greatness' favour, dream as I haye done;
Wake, and find nothing.-but, alas, I swerve:
Many dream not to find, neither deserve,
And yet are steep'd in favours; so am I,

That have this golden chance, and know not
why.

What faries haunt this ground? A book? O,
rare one!

Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment
Nobler than that it covers: let thy effects
So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers,
As good as promise.

[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 for-
tunate, and flourish in peace and plenty.

'Tis still a dream; or else such stuff as madmen
Tongue, and brain not: either both, or nothing:
Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such
Be what it is,
As sense cannot untie.

The action of my life is like it, which
I'll keep, if but for sympathy.

Re-cnter JAILERS.

Jail. Come, Sir, are you ready for death? Post. Over-roasted rather: ready long ago. Jail. Hanging is the word Sir; if you be ready for that, you are well cooked.

Post. So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the dish pays the shot.

Jail. A heavy reckoning for you, Sir: But the comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern bills: which are often the sadness of parting, as the procuring of mirth: you come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with too much drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and sorry that you are paid too much; purse and brain both empty : the brain the heavier for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of heaviness: Oh! of this contradiction you shall now be quit.-Oh! the charity of a penny cord! it sums up thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and creditor but it; of what's past is, and to come, the discharge :-Your neck, Sir, is pen, book, and counters; so the acquittance follows.

Post. I am merrier to die, than thou art to live.

Jail. Indeed, Sir, he that sleeps feels not the tooth-ache: But a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer : for look you, Sir, you know not which way you shall go.

Post. Yes indeed do I, fellow.

Jail. Your death has eyes in's head then; I have not seen him so pictured: you must either be directed by some that take upon them to know; or take upon yourself that, which I am sure you do not know; or jump the after-inquiry on your own peril and how you shall speed in your own journey's end, I think you'll never return to tell one.

Post. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want is eyes to direct them the way I am going, but such as wink, and will not use them.

His radiant roof:-Away! and, to be blest,
Let us with care perform his great behest.
[Ghosts vanish.
Post. [Waking.] Sleep, thou hast been a
grandsire, and begot

• The fool.

Jail. What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have the best use of eyes, to see the way of blindness! I am sure, hanging's the way of winking.

• Hazard.

Enter a MESSENGER.

Mess. Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the king.

Post. Thou bringest good news-I am called to be made free.

Jail. I'll be hang'd then.

Post. Thou shalt be then freer than a jailer;

no bolts for the dead.

And, but she spoke it dying, I would not
Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.
Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand
to love

With such integrity, she did confess
Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life,
But that her flight prevented it, she had
Ta'en off by poison.

Cym. O most delicate fiend!

Who is't can read a woman?-Is there more?
Cor. More, Sir, and worse. She did confess,
she had
For you a mortal mineral; which, being took,
Should by the minute feed on life, and, ling'ring,
By inches waste you: In which time she pur-
pos'd

[Exeunt POSTHUMUS and MESSENGER. Jail. Unless a man would marry a gallows, and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman : and there be some of them too, that die against their wills; so should I, if I were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good; Oh! there were desolation of jailers,and gallowses! By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to I speak against my present profit; but my wish'ercome you with her show; yes, and in time, hath a preferment in't. (When she had fitted you with her craft,) to work

[Exeunt.

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Such noble fury in so poor a thing;

Her son into the adoption of the crown.
But failing of her end by his strange absence,
Grew shameless desperate: open'd, in despite
of heaven and men, her purposes; repented
The evils she hatch'd were not effected; so,
Despairing, died.

Cym. Heard you all this, her women !
Lady. We did so, please your highness.
Cym. Mine eyes

Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;
Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my
heart,

That thought her like her seeming; it had been
vicious,

To have mistrusted her yet, O my daughter!
That it was folly in ine, thou may'st say,
And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all!

Such precious deeds in one that promis'd Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the SOOTHSAYER,

nought

But beggary and poor looks.

Cym. No tidings of him?

and other Roman Prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS behind, and IMOGEN.

Pis. He hath been search'd among the dead Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute; that

and living,

But no trace of him.

Cym. To my grief, I am

The heir of his reward; which I will add
To you the liver, heart and brain of Britain,
[To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS.
By whom, I grant, she lives; 'Tis now the time
To ask of whence you are :-report it.

Bel. Sir,

In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen:
Further to boast, were neither true nor modest,
Unless I add, we are honest.

Cym. Bow your knees:

Arise my knights o'the battle: I create you
Companions to our person, and will fit you
With dignities becoming your estates.

Enter CORNELIUS and LADIES.

There's business in these faces :-Why so sadly
Greet you our victory? You look like Romans,
And not o'the court of Britain

Cor. Hail, great king!

To sour your happiness, I must report
The queen is dead.

Cym. Whom worse than a physician
Would this report become? But I consider,
By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death
Will seize the doctor too.-How ended she?
Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life;
Which, being cruel to the world, concluded
Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd,
I will report, so please you: These her women
Can trip me if I err: who, with wet cheeks,
Were present when she finish'd.

Cym. Pry'thee, say.

The Britons have raz'd out, though with the

loss

Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made
suit,
[slaughter
That their good souls may be appeas'd with
Of you their captives, which ourself have
So, think of your estate.
[granted;

Luc. Consider, Sir, the chance of war: the
day

Was your's by accident; had it gone with us,
We should not, when the blood was cool, have
threaten'd
[gods
Our prisoners with the sword. But since the
Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives
May be call'd ransom, let it come: sufficeth,
A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer:
Augustus lives to think on't: And so much
For my peculiar care. This one thing only
I will entreat: My boy, a Briton born,
Let him be ransom'd; never master had
A page so kind, so duteous, diligent,

So tender over his occasions, true,

So feat, so nurse-like let his virtue join
With my request, which, I'll make bold, your
highness

Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm,
Though he have serv❜d a Reman: save him, Sir,
And spare no blood beside.

Cym. I have surely seen him :
His favour is familiar to me.-

Boy, thou hast look'd thyself into my grace,
And art mine own.-i know not why, nor

wherefore,

To say, live, boy: ne'er thank thy master; live:
And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt,

Cor. First she confess'd she never lov'd you; Fitting my bounty, and thy state, I'll give it;

only

Affected greatness got by you, not you:

Married your royalty, was wife to your place;

Abhorr'd your person.

Cym. She alone new this:

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What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on ? speak,

Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend? Imo. He is a Roman; no more kin to me, Than I to your highness; who, being born your Am something nearer.

Cym. Wherefore ey❜st him so ?

[vassal,

Imo. I'll tell you, Sir, in private, if you please To give me bearing.

Cym. Ay, with all my heart,

And lend my best attention. What's thy name? Imo. Fidele, Sir.

Cym. Thou art my good youth, my page; I'll be thy master: Walk with me; speak freely. [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converse apart.

Bel. Is not this boy reviv'd from death?
Aru. One sand another

Not more resembles: That sweet rosy lad,
Who died, and was Fidele :-What think you?
Gui. The same dead thing alive.

Bel. Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; forbear;

Creatures may be alike: were't he, I am sure
He would have spoke to us.

Gui. But we saw him dead.

Bel. Be silent; let's see further.

Pis. It is my mistress :

Since she is living, let the time run on,
To good, or bad.

[Aside.

[CYMBELINE and IMOGEN come forward. Cym. Conie, stand thou by our side: Make thy demand aloud.-Sir, [To IACH.] step you forth;

Give answer to this boy, and do it freely;
Or, by our greatness, and the grace of it,
Which is our honour, bitter torture shall
Winnow the truth from falsehood.-Ou, speak
to him

Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may render

Of whom he had this ring.

Post. What's that to him?

[Aside.

Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say, How came it yours?

lach. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that

Which, to be spoke, would torture thee.

Cym. How! me?

The mansion where! ('twas at a feast, (O 'would
Our viands had been poison'd! or at least,
Those which I heav'd to head!) the good Post-

húmus,

(What should I say? he was too good to be Where ill men were; and was the best of all Amongst the rar'st of good ones,) sitting sadly, Hearing us praise our loves of Italy

For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast
Of him that best could speak: for feature, lam-
ing
[erva,
The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Min-
Postures beyond brief nature; for condition,
A shop of all the qualities that man
Loves woman for; besides, that hook of wiy-
ing,

Fairness which strikes the eye :-
Cym. I stand on fire:

Come to the matter.

Iach. All too soon I shall,

Unless thou would'st grieve quickly.-This Post húmus,

Most like a noble lord in love, and one
That had a royal lover,) took his hint;
And, not dispraising whom he prais'd, (therein
He was as calm as virtue) he began
His mistress' picture; which by bis tongue be-
ing made,

And then a mind put in't, either our brags
Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description
Prov'd us unspeaking sots.

Cym. Nay, nay, to the purpose.

lach. Your daughter's chastity-there it be.

gins.

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Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain

In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring
By her's and mine adultery: he, true knight,
No lesser of her honour confident
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring;
And would so, had it been a carbuncle
Of Phoebus' wheel; and might so safely, had it
Been all the worth of his car. Away to Bri-
tain

Post I in this design: Well may you, Sir,
Remember me at court, where I was taught
Of your chaste daughter the wide difference
'Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus
quench'd

Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain
'Gan in your duller Britain operate
Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent;
And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd,
That I return'd with simular proof enough

To make the noble Leonatus mad,
By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus and thus: averring notes

Iach. I am glad to be constrain❜d to utter that of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her brace

which

Torments me to conceal. By villany

I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel:

let,

(0 cunning, how I got it!) nay, some marks Of secret on her person, that he could not

Whom thou didst banish; and (which more may But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,

grieve thee,

As it doth me,) a nobler Sir ne'er liv'd

Twixt sky and grouud. Wilt thou hear more, my lord?

Cym. All that belongs to this.
Iach. That paragon, thy daughter,-

For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits

Quail to remember,-Give me leave; I faint. Cym. My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength: I bad rather thou should'st live while nature will, Than die ere I hear more: strive man, and speak.

Jach. Upon a time, (unhappy was the clock That struck the hour!) it was in Rome, (accurs'd

• Sink into dejection.

I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon,-
Methinks, I see him now,-

Post. Ay, so thou dost, [Coming forward.
Italian fiend!-Ah! me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing
That's due to all the villains past, in being,
To come !-O give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright justicer! Thou king, send out
For torturers ingenious: it is I
That all the abhorred things o'the earth amend
By being worse than they. I am Posthúmus,
That kill'd thy daughter :-villain like, I lie;
That caus'd a lesser villain than myself,
A sacrilegious, thief, to do't :-the temple
of virtue was she; yea, and she herself. +
Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set

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The dogs o'the street to bay me every villain
Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus; and
Be villany less than 'twas! O Imogen,
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen !

Imo. Peace, my lord; hear, hear

Post. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page,

There lie thy part.

If I discover'd not which way she was gone,
It was my instant death: By accident,
I had a feigned letter of my master's
Then in my pocket; which directed him

To seek her on the mountains near to Milford.
Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments,
Which he inforc'd from me, away he posts
With unchaste purpose, and with oath to vio
late

[Striking her: she falls.
Pis. O gentlemen, help, help
My lady's honour: what became of him,
Mine, and your mistress:-O my lord Post-I further know not.
húmus!

You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now ;-Help,

help!

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Imo. It poison'd me.

Cor. O gods !

I left out one thing which the queen confess'd,
Which must approve thee honest: If Pisanio
Have, said she, given his mistress that confec-
tion

Which I gave him for a cordial, she is serv'd
As I would serve a rat.

Cym. What's this, Cornelius ?

Cor. The queen, Sir, very oft impórtun'd me
The temper poisons for her; still pretending
The satisfaction of her knowledge, only
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs
Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would

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Gui. Let me end the story :

I slew him there.

Cym. Marry, the gods forfend ! •

I would not thy good deeds should from my

lips

Pluck a hard sentence: pr'ythee, valiant youth,
Deny't again.

Gui. I have spoke it, and I did it.

Cym. He was a prince.

Gui. A most uncivil one: The wrongs he did

me

Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke

me

With language that would make me sparn the

sea,

If it could roar so to me: I cut off's head;
And am right glad, he is not standing here
To tell this tale of mine.

Cym. I am sorry for thee:

By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and

must

Endure our law: Thou art dead.

Imo. That headless man

I thought had been my lord.
Cym. Bind the offender,
And take him from our presence.
Bel. Stay, Sir king:

This man is better than the man he slew,
As well descended as thyself; and hath
More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens
Had ever scar for. Let his arms alone;
[To the Guards.

They were not born for bondage.

Cym. Why, old soldier,
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for
By tasting of our wrath? How of descent
As good as we?

Arv. In that he spake too far.
Cym. And thou shalt die for't.
Bel. We will die all three,

But I will prove that two of us are as good

As I have given out him.-My sons, I must,

For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech,
Though, haply, well for you.

Aru. Your danger is

Our's.

Gui. And our good his.

[Embracing him.

Bel. Have at it then.

[who

By leave ;-Thou had'st, great, king, a subject,
Was call'd Belarius.

Cym. What of him? be is

Cym. How now, my flesh, my child?

What, mak'st thou me a duliard in this act?
Wilt thou not speak to me?

Imo. Your blessing, Sir.

[Kneeling.

Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not;

You had a motive for't.

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A banish'd traitor.

Bel. He it is, that hath

Assum'd this age: indeed, a banish'd man ;
I know not how, a traitor.

Cym. Take him hence;

The whole world shall not save him.

Bel. Not too hot :

First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;
And let it be confiscate all, so soon
As I have receiv'd it.

Cym. Nursing of my sons?

Bel. I am too blunt and sancy: Here's my knee;

Ere I arise I will prefer my sons;

Then, spare not the old father. Mighty Sir,
These two young gentlemen, that call me fa-
ther,

And think they are my sons, are none of mine ;
They are the issue of your loins, my liege,

With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, And blood of your begetting.

and swore,

Cym. How! my issue?

• Mix, compound.

• Forhid.

These,

Bel. So sure as you your father's. 1, old Why fled you from the court? and whither Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd: And your three motives to the battle, with Your pleasure was my mere offence, my pun-I know not how much more, should be de manded;

ishment

self, and all my treason; that I suffer'd, Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes (For such, and so they are,) these twenty

years

Have I train'd up: those arts they have, as I
Could put into them; my breeding was, Sir,

as

Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these chil-
dren

Upon my banishment; I mov'd her to't;
laving receiv'd the punishment before,
for that which I did then: Beaten for loyalty
Excited me to treason: Their dear loss,
the more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd
Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious
Sir,

Here are your sons again; and I must lose
Two of the sweet'st companions in the world :—
The benediction of these covering heavens
Fall on their heads like dew! for they are
worthy

To inlay heaven with stars.

Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'st.

The service, that you three have done, is more
Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my chil-
dren:

If these be they, I know not how to wish
A pair of worthier sons.

Bel. Be pleas'd a while.

This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,
Most worthy prince, as your's, is true,

derius;

And all the other by-dependancies.

From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor
place,

Will serve our long intergatories. See,
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen;

And she like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brothers, me, her master; hitting
Each object with a joy; the counterchange
Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.-
Thou art my brother; So we'll hold thee ever.
[To BELARIUS.

Imo. You are my father too: and did re-
relieve me,

To see this gracious season.
Cym. All overjoy'd,

Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too,
For they shall taste our comfort.
Imo. My good master,

Luc. Happy be you!

[Kneeling.

Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, He would have well becom'd this place, and grac'd

The thankings of a king.

Post. I am, Sir,

The soldier that did company these three

In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for

The purpose I then follow'd ;-That I was he,
Speak, lachimo: I had you down, and might
Have made you finish.

Gui-I will yet do you service.

This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus,
Your younger princely son; he, Sir, was lapp'd
In a most curious mantle wrought by the
hand

Of his queen mother, which, for more pro-
bation,

I can with ease produce.

Cym. Guiderius bad

Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;

It was a mark of wonder.

Bel. This is he;

Who hath upon him still that natural stamp ;
It was wise nature's end in the donation,
To be his evidence now.

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Imo. No, my lord;

I have got two worlds" by't.-O my gentle
brothers,

Have we thus met? O never say hereafter,
But I am truest speaker: you call'd me brother,
When I was but your sister; I you brothers,
When you were so indeed.

Cym. Did you e'er meet?

Arv. Ay, my good lord.

Gui. And at first meeting lov'd;

Continued so, until we thought he died.

Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd.
Cym. O rare instinct!

When shall I hear all through? This fierce
abridgment

Hath to it circumstantial branches, which Distinction should be rich in. +-Where? liv'd you?

And when came you to serve our Roman
tive?
How parted with your brothers? how first
them?

how

met

lach. I am down again:

But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee,
As then your force did. Take that life, 'be-
seech 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,
The malice towards you, to forgive you: Live,
And deal with others better.

Cym. Nobly doom'd:

We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law;
Pardon's the word to all.

Arv. You holp us, Sir,

As 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, me-
thought,

Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back,
Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows
Of mine own kindred: when I wak'd, I found
This label on my bosom; whose containing
Is so from sense in hardness, that I can
Make no collection of it; let him show
His skill in the construction.

Luc. Philarmonus,

Sooth. Here, my good lord.

Luc. Read and declare the meaning.
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,
shell 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.

cap-Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp',
The fit and apt construction of thy name,
Being Leo-natus, doth import so much :
The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,
[To CYMBELING.
Which we call mollis aer; and mollis aer

• Vehement, rapid. tle Which ought to be rendered distinct in an ample narrative.

• Ghostly appearances.

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