Cymbeline Part 20

Bel. Be pleas'd awhile; This Gentleman, whom I call Polidore, Most worthy Prince, as yours, is true Guiderius: This Gentleman, my Cadwall, Aruiragus.

Your yonger Princely Son, he Sir, was lapt In a most curious Mantle, wrought by th' hand Of his Queene Mother, which for more probation I can with ease produce

Cym. Guiderius had Vpon his necke a Mole, a sanguine Starre, It was a marke of wonder

Bel. This is he, Who hath vpon him still that naturall stampe: It was wise Natures end, in the donation To be his euidence now

Cym. Oh, what am I A Mother to the byrth of three? Nere Mother Reioyc'd deliuerance more: Blest, pray you be, That after this strange starting from your Orbes, You may reigne in them now: Oh Imogen, Thou hast lost by this a Kingdome

Imo. No, my Lord: I haue got two Worlds by't. Oh my gentle Brothers, Haue we thus met? Oh neuer say heereafter But I am truest speaker. You call'd me Brother When I was but your Sister: I you Brothers, When we were so indeed

Cym. Did you ere meete?

Arui. I my good Lord

Gui. And at first meeting lou'd, Continew'd so, vntill we thought he dyed

Corn. By the Queenes Dramme she swallow'd

Cym. O rare instinct!

When shall I heare all through? This fierce abridgment, Hath to it Circ.u.mstantiall branches, which Distinction should be rich in. Where? how liu'd you?

And when came you to serue our Romane Captiue?

How parted with your Brother? How first met them?

Why fled you from the Court? And whether these?

And your three motiues to the Battaile? with I know not how much more should be demanded, And all the other by-dependances From chance to chance? But nor the Time, nor Place Will serue our long Interrogatories. See, Posthumus Anchors vpon Imogen; And she (like harmlesse Lightning) throwes her eye On him: her Brothers, Me: her Master hitting Each obiect with a Ioy: the Counter-change Is seuerally in all. Let's quit this ground, And smoake the Temple with our Sacrifices.

Thou art my Brother, so wee'l hold thee euer

Imo. You are my Father too, and did releeue me: To see this gracious season

Cym. All ore-ioy'd Saue these in bonds, let them be ioyfull too, For they shall taste our Comfort

Imo. My good Master, I will yet do you seruice

Luc. Happy be you

Cym. The forlorne Souldier, that so n.o.bly fought He would haue 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, Speake Iachimo, I had you downe, and might Haue made you finish

Iach. I am downe againe: But now my heauie Conscience sinkes my knee, As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you Which I so often owe: but your Ring first, And heere the Bracelet of the truest Princesse That euer swore the Faith

Post. Kneele not to me: The powre that I haue on you, is to spare you: The malice towards you, to forgiue you. Liue And deale with others better

Cym. n.o.bly doom'd: Wee'l learne our Freenesse of a Sonne-in-Law: Pardon's the word to all

Arui. You holpe vs Sir, As you did meane indeed to be our Brother, Ioy'd are we, that you are

Post. Your Seruant Princes. Good my Lord of Rome Call forth your Sooth-sayer: As I slept, me thought Great Iupiter vpon his Eagle back'd Appear'd to me, with other sprightly shewes Of mine owne Kindred. When I wak'd, I found This Labell on my bosome; whose containing Is so from sense in hardnesse, that I can Make no Collection of it. Let him shew His skill in the construction

Luc. Philarmonus

Sooth. Heere, my good Lord

Luc. Read, and declare the meaning.

Reades.

When as a Lyons whelpe, shall to himselfe vnknown, without 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 reuiue, bee ioynted to the old Stocke, and freshly grow, then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britaine be fortunate, and flourish in Peace and Plentie.

Thou Leonatus art the Lyons Whelpe, The fit and apt Construction of thy name Being Leonatus, doth import so much: The peece of tender Ayre, thy vertuous Daughter, Which we call Mollis Aer, and Mollis Aer We terme it Mulier; which Mulier I diuine Is this most constant Wife, who euen now Answering the Letter of the Oracle, Vnknowne to you vnsought, were clipt about With this most tender Aire

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 reuiu'd To the Maiesticke Cedar ioyn'd; whose Issue Promises Britaine, Peace and Plenty

Cym. Well, My Peace we will begin: And Caius Lucius, Although the Victor, we submit to Caesar, And to the Romane Empire; promising To pay our wonted Tribute, from the which We were disswaded by our wicked Queene, Whom heauens in Iustice both on her, and hers, Haue laid most heauy hand

Sooth. The fingers of the Powres aboue, do tune The harmony of this Peace: the Vision Which I made knowne to Lucius ere the stroke Of yet this sca.r.s.e-cold-Battaile, at this instant Is full accomplish'd. For the Romaine Eagle From South to West, on wing soaring aloft Lessen'd her selfe, and in the Beames o'th' Sun So vanish'd; which fore-shew'd our Princely Eagle Th' Imperiall Caesar, should againe vnite His Fauour, with the Radiant Cymbeline, Which shines heere in the West

Cym. Laud we the G.o.ds, And let our crooked Smoakes climbe to their Nostrils From our blest Altars. Publish we this Peace To all our Subiects. Set we forward: Let A Roman, and a Brittish Ensigne waue Friendly together: so through Luds-Towne march, And in the Temple of great Iupiter Our Peace wee'l ratifie: Seale it with Feasts.

Set on there: Neuer was a Warre did cease (Ere bloodie hands were wash'd) with such a Peace.

Exeunt.

FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF CYMBELINE.