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The purpose I then follow'd;-That I was he,
I am down again :
But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee,
Kneel not to me: power that I have on you, is to spare you; The malice towards you, to forgive you: Live, And deal with others better.
We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law;
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
Call forth your soothsayer: As I slept, methought,
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 re
vive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty.
Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp;
Which we call mollis aer; and mollis aer
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 majestick cedar join'd; whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty.
Well, My peace we will begin:-And, Caius Lucius, Although the victor, we submit to Cæsar, And to the Roman empire; promising To pay our wonted tribute, from the which We were dissuaded by our wicked queen; 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 Cæsar, should again unite
Laud we the gods;
And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils
Friendly together: so through Lud's town march:
Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts.-
This play has many just sentiments, some natural dialogues, and some pleasing scenes, but they are obtained at the expense of much incongruity. To remark the folly of the fiction, the absurdity of the conduct, the confusion of the names and manners of different times, and the impossibility of the events in any system of life, were to waste criticism upon unresisting imbecility, upon faults too evident for detection, and too gross for aggravation.
SUNG BY GUIDERIUS AND ARVIRAGUS OVER FIDELE, SUPPOSED TO BE dead.
BY MR. WILLIAM COLLINS.
To fair Fidele's grassy tomb,
Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each opening sweet, of carliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring. No wailing ghost shall dare appear
To vex 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,
In tempest shake the sylvan cell;
The tender thought on thee shall dwell.