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Im. It poison'd me. Cor. O gods!

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

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 To 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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Cym. How now, my flesh, my child? What, mak'st thou me a dullard 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.

[To GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS. Cym. My tears that fall, Prove holy water on thee! Imogen, Thy mother's dead.

Imo. I am sorry for't, my lord.

Cym. O, she was naught; and 'long of her it was,

That we meet here so strangely: But her son
Is gone, we know not how, nor where.
Pis. My lord,
[Cloten,
Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord
Upon my lady's missing, came to me
With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth,
and swore,

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

My lady's honour: what became of him, I further know not.

Gui. Let me end the story:

I slew him there.

Cym. Marry, the gods forfend !+

[lips

I would not thy good deeds should from my
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.

me

Gui. A most uncivil one: The wrongs he did [me Where nothing prince-like; for he did provoke With language that would make me spurn the sea,

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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 Endure our law: Thou art dead. (must

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 Guard,

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?

Are. 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.
Arv. Your danger is

Ours.

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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 saucy: Here's my Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons; [knee; Then, spare not the old father. Mighty Sir, These two young gentlemen, that call me fa

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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
To inlay heaven with stars.
[worthy

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 children;
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 yours, is true, Gui-
derius;

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
I can with ease produce.

Cym. Guiderius had

Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; It was a mark of wonder.

Bel. This is he;

Luc. Happy be you!

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.

lach. I am down again:
[Kneeling.
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; proba-And here the bracelet of the truest princess, [tion, That ever swore her faith. Post. Kneel not to me;

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

Cym. O, what am I

A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother Rejoic'd deliverance more:-Bless'd may you be,

[orbs, That after this strange starting from your You may reign in them now!-O Imogen, Thou hast lost by this a kingdom. Imo. No, my lord;

[brothers, I have got two worlds by't.-O my gentle 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.t-Where? how
liv'd you?
[tive?
And when came you to serve our Roman cap-
How parted with your brothers? how first met
them?
[These,
Why fled you from the court? and whither?
And your three motives to the battle, with
I know not how much more, should be de-
manded;

And all the other by-dependancies, [place,
From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor
Will serve our long intergatories. See,
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen; [eye
And she, like harmless lightning, throws her
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 relieve
To see this gracious season.
[me,

Cym. All overjoy'd,

Save these in bonds; let them be joyful too, For they shall taste our comfort.

Imo. My good master,

I will yet do you service.

Vehement, rapid. + Ie. Which ought to be rendered distinct by an ample narrative.

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, methought,

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, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be førtunate, and flourish in peace and plenty. 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 CYMBELINE.

Which we call mollis aer; and mollis aer
We term it mulier: which mulier, I divine,
Is this most constant wife: who, even now,
Answering the letter of the oracle,
Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about
With this most tender air.

Cym. This hath some seeming.

Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,
Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point
Thy two sons forth: who, by Belarius stolen,
For many years thought dead, are now reviv❜d,
To the majestic cedar join'd; whose issue
Promises Britain peace and plenty.
Cym. Well,

My peace we will begin :-And, Caius Lucius,
Although the victor, we submit to Cesar,
And to the Roman empire; promising
To pay our wonted tribute, from the which
We were dissuaded by our wicked queen;

Ghostly appearancs.

Whom heavens, in justice, (both on her and

hers,)

Have laid most heavy hand.

Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do

tune

The harmony of this peace. The vision
Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke
Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant
Is full accomplish'd: For the Roman eagle,
From south to west on wing soaring aloft,
Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o'the sun
So vanish'd: which foreshow'd our princely
eagle,

The imperial Cesar, should again unite
His favour with the radiant Cymbeline,
Which shines here in the west.

Cym. Laud we the gods:

And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils

From our bless'd altars! Publish we this peace
To all our subjects. Set we forward: Let
A Roman and a British ensign wave
Friendly together: so through Lud's town

march:

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A SONG,

199

Sung by Guiderius and Arviragus over Fidele, supposed to be dead.

BY WILLIAM COLLINS.

To fair Fidele's grassy tomb,

Soft maids and village hinds shall bring
Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom,
And rifle all the breathing spring.
No wailing ghost shall dare appear
To ver with shrieks his quiet grove;
But shepherd lads assemble here,

And melting virgins own their love.
No wither'd witch shall here be seen,
No goblins lead their nightly crew:
The female fays shall haunt the green,
And dress thy grave with pearly dew.
The red-breast oft at evening hours
Shall kindly lend his little aid,
With hoary moss, and gather'd flowers,
To deck the ground where thou art laud,
When howling winds and beating rain,
In tempests shake the sylvan cell;
Or midst the chase on every plain,

The tender thought on thee shall dwell,
Each lonely scene shall thee restore;
For thee the tear be duly shed:
Belov'd, till life could charm no more;

And mourn'd, tili pity's self be deci.

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Sat. Noble patricians, patrons of my right,
Defend the justice of my cause with arms;
And, countrymen, my loving followers,
Plead my successive title with your swords:
I am his first-born son, that was the last
That wore the imperial diadem of Rome;
Then let my father's honours live in me,
Nor wrong mine age with this indignity.
Bas. Romans, friends, followers, favourers
of my right,-

If ever Bassianus, Cesar's son,
Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome,
Keep then this passage to the Capitol;
And suffer not dishonour to approach
The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate,
To justice, continence, and nobility:
But let desert in pure election shine;
And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice.

Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS, aloft, with the

Crown.

A special party, have, by their common voice,
In election for the Roman empery,
Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius
For many good and great deserts to Rome;
A nobler man, a braver warrior,
Lives not this day within the city walls:
He by the senate is accited* home,
From weary wars against the barbarous Goths,
That, with his sons, a terror to our foes,
Hath yok'd a nation strong, train'd up in arms.
Ten years are spent, since first he undertook
This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms
Our enemies' pride: Five times he hath re-
turn'd

Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sous
In coffins from the field;

And now at last, laden with honour's spoils,
Returns the good Andronicus to Rome,
Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms.
Let us entreat,-By honour of his name,
Whom, worthily, you would have now succeed,
And in the Capitol and senate's right,
Whom you pretend to honour and adore,-
That you withdraw you, and abate your
strength;

Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should,
Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness.
Sat. How fair the tribune speaks to calm my
thoughts!

Bas. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy In thy uprightness and integrity,

Mar. Princes that strive by factions, and And so I love and honour thee and thine, by friends,

Ambitiously for rule and empery,

Lall,

Thy nobler brother Titus, and his sons,
And her, to whom my thoughts are humbled

Know, that the people of Rome, for whom we Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament,

stand

I. e. My title to the succession.

That I will here dismiss my loving friends

Summoned.

TITUS ANDRONICUS.

And to my fortunes, and the people's favour,
Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd.

[Exeunt the Followers of BASSIANUS.
Sat. Friends, that have been thus forward in
my right,

I thank you all, and here dismiss you all;
And to the love and favour of my country
Commit myself, my person, and the cause.
[Exeunt the Followers of SATURNINUS.
Rome, be as just and gracious unto me,
As I am confident and kind to thee.-
Open the gates, and let me in.

*801

Tit. I give him you; the noblest that surThe eldest son of this distressed queen. [vives, Tam. Stay, Roman brethren; Gracious

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conqueror,
Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed,
A mother's tears in passion* for her son:
And, if thy sons were ever dear to thee,
Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome,
O, think my son to be as dear to me.
To beautify thy triumphs, and return,
Captive to thee, and to thy Roman yoke;
But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets,
O! if to fight for king and common weal
For valiant doings in their country's cause?
Were piety in thine, it is in these.
Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood:
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods?
Draw near them then in being merciful;
Andro-Thrice-noble Titus, spare my first-born son.
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge;
Tit. Patient yourself, madam, and pardon

Bas. Tribunes! and me, a poor competitor.
SAT. and BAS. go into the Capitol, and exeunt
with SENATORS, MARCUS, &c.

SCENE II.-The same.
Enter a CAPTAIN, and Others.
Cap. Romans, make way; The good
nicus,
Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion,
Successful in the battles that he fights,
With honour and with fortune is return'd,
From where he circumscribed with his sword,
And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome.
Flourish of Trumpets, &c. Enter MUTIUS and
MARTIUS: after them, two Men bearing a Coffin
covered with black; then QUINTUS and LUCIUS.
After them, TITUS ANDRONICUS; and then
TAMORA, with ALARBUS, CHIRON, DEME-
TRIUS, AARON, and other Goths, prisoners;
Soldiers and People following. The Bearers
set down the Coffin, and TITUS speaks.
Tit. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning
weeds!
Lo, as the bark that hath discharged her
[fraught,
Returns with precious lading to the bay,
From whence at first she weigh'd her anchor-

age,

Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs,
To re-salute his country with his tears;
Tears of true joy for his return to Rome.-
Thou great defender of this Capitol,+
Stand gracious to the rights that we intend!
Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons,
Half of the number that king Priam had,
Behold the poor remains, alive, and dead!
These, that survive, let Rome reward with
love;

These, that I bring unto their latest home,
With burial amongst their ancestors:
Here Goths have given me leave to sheath
my sword.

Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own,
Why suffer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet,
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx?-
Make way to lay them by their brethren.

[The Tomb is opened.
There greet in silence, as the dead are wont,
And sleep in peace, slain in your country's
O sacred receptacle of my joys,
Sweet cell of virtue and nobility,
[wars!
How many sons of mine hast thou in store,
That thou wilt never render to me more?
Luc. Give us the proudest prisoner of the
Goths,

That we may hew his limbs, and, on a pile,
Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh,
Before this earthly prison of their bones;
That so the shadows be not unappeas'd,
Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth.

Freight. + Jupiter, to whom the Capitol was sacred. It was supposed that the ghosts of unburied people appeared to soucit the rites of funeral.

me.

These are their brethren, whom you Goths
[beheld
Religiously they ask a sacrifice:
Alive, and dead; and for their brethren slain,

To this your son is mark'd; and die he must,
To appease their groaning shadows that are
gone.

Luc. Away with him! and make a fire straight;

And
Let's

with your swords, upon a pile of wood, hew his limbs, till they be clean consum'd.

[Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and
MUTIUS, with ALARBUS.
Tam. O cruel, irreligious piety!

Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive
Chi. Was ever Scythia half so barbarous?
Dem. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome.
To tremble under Titus' threatening look. [al,
With opportunity of sharp revenge
Then, madam, stand resolv'd; but hope with-
The salf-same gods, that arm'd the queen of
Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent,
May favour Tamora, the queen of Goths,
(When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was
queen,)

[Troy

To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.
Re-enter LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and MU-
TIUS, with their Swords bloody.

Luc. See, lord and father, how we have per-
form'd

[sky.

Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd,
And entrails feed the sacrificing fire,
Whose smcke, like incense, doth perfume the
Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren,
And with loud 'larums welcome them to Rome.
Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus
Make this his latest farewell to their souls.

[Trumpets sounded, and the Coffins luid in
the Tomb.
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons:
Rome's readiest champions, repose you here,
Secure from worldly chances and mishaps!
Here grow no damned grudges; here, are nc
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,
storms,

No noise, but silence and eternal sleep:

Enter LAVINIA.

In peace and honour rest you here, my sons!
Lav. In peace and honour live lord Titus
long;

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