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Soothsayer reads. Wben as a lion's whelp fall, to bimself unknown, with. out seeking find, and be embrac'd by a piece of tender air ; and when from a stately cedar Mall be lopt branches, which, being dead many years, fall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then fall Pofbumus end bis miseries, Britain be fortunate, 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; (To Poft.] who, even now, Answering the letter of the oracle, Unknown to you, unsought, were clip'd about With this most tender air.

Cym. This hath some seeming.

Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline,
Personates thee: and thy lopt branches point
Thy two fons 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.

Cym. Well,
By peace we will begin :-And, Caius Lucius,
Although the victor, we submit to Cæfar,
And to the Roman empire ; promising

pay our wonted tribute, from the which
We were diffuaded by our wicked queen ;
! By peace we will begin :]-To fulfil the prophecy. My peace.

To

On whom heaven's justice, (both on her, and hers)
Hath lay'd 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,
Lefsen'd herself, and in the beams o'the sun
So yanilh'd: which fore-shew'd, our princely eagle,
The imperial Cæsar, 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 blest altars ! Publish we this peace
To all our subjects. Set we forward : Let
A Roman and a British ensign wave
Friendly together : fo through Lud's town march;
And in the temple of great Jupiter
Our peace we'll ratify; feal it with feasts.--
Set on there :--Never was a war did ceasc,
Ere bloody hands were walh'd, with such a peace.

[Exeunt omnes.

A SONG,

Sung by Guiderius and Arviragus over Fidele, supposed

to be dead.
By Mr. WILLIAM COLLIN S.

I.
To fair Fidele's grassy tomb,

Soft maids, and village binds shall bring
Each op'ning sweet of earliest bloom,
And rifle all the breathing spring,

II.
No wailing ghost shall dare appear

To vex with sprieks this quiet grove :
But Mepherd lads assemble bere,
And melting virgins own their love.

III.
No witber'd witch shall bere be seen,

No goblins lead their nightly crew :
The female fays shall haunt the green,

And dress tby grave with pearly dew,

IV.

The red-breast oft at ev’ning hours

Shall kindly lend bis litýle aid,
With boary moss, and gather'd flowers,
To deck the ground where thou art laid.

V.
When bowling winds, and beating rain,

In tempefts fake the sylvan cell ;
Or 'midst the chace on ev'ry plain,
The tender thought on thee fall dwell,

VI.
Each lonely Scene hall thee restore ;

For thee the tear be duly shed:
Belov’d, 'till life could charm no more ;

And mourn'd, 'till pity's self be dead.

K I N G

JOHN

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