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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:
And in the temple of great Jupiter
Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts.-
Set on there :-Never was a war did cease,
Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace.

[Exeunt.

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Act II. Scene III.
Aar. Hark, Tamora,--the empress of my soul,
Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee,
This is the day of doom for Bassianus;

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Titus Andronicus.

TRAGEDY,

BY

WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.

ACCURATELY PRINTED

FROM THE TEXT OP

MR. STEEVENS'S LAST EDITION.

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