Make no Collection of it. Let him ſhew
His skill in the conſtruction.
Sooth. Heere, my good Lord.
Lue. Read, and declare the meaning.
When as a Lyons whelpe, ſhall to himſelfe unknown, with-
out ſeeking ſinde, 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 renine, bee ioyated to
the old Stocke, and freſhly grow, then ſhall Poſthumus end his
miſeries, Britaine be fortunate, and flouriſh in Peace and Plen-
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 Acr, and Mollis Aer
We terme it Mulier; which Mulier I divine
Is this moſt conſtant Wife, who even now
Anſwering the Letter of the Oracle,
Vuknowne 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; whole Iſſue
Promiſes Britaine, Peace and Plenty.
My Peace we will begin: And Caius Lucius,
Although the Victor, we ſubmit to Cæſar,
And to the Romane Empire; promiſing
To pay our wonted Tribute, from the which
We were diſſwaded by our wicked Queene,
Whom heavens in Iuſtice both on her, and hers,
Haue laid moſt heauy hand.
Sooth. The fingers of the Powresaboue, do tune
The harmony of this Peace: the Viſion
Which I made knowne to Lucius ere the ſtroke
Of yet this ſcarſe-cold-Battaile, at this inſtang
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 ſore-ſhew'd our Princely Eagle
Th' Imperiall Cæſar, ſhould againe vnice
His Fauour, with the Radiant Cymbeline,
Which ſhines heere in the Weſt.
Cym. Laud we the Gods,
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-Townes march,
And in the Temple of great Jupiter
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.