Cymbeline by William Shakespeare

Act 5 - Scene 5

Cymbeline’s tent.

Cymbeline : Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made [p]Preservers of my
throne. Woe is my heart [p]That the poor soldier that so richly
fought, [p]Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked
breast [p]Stepp'd before larges of proof, cannot be found: [p]He shall
be happy that can find him, if [p]Our grace can make him so.

Belarius : I never saw [p]Such noble fury in so poor a thing; [p]Such precious
deeds in one that promises nought [p]But beggary and poor looks.

Cymbeline : No tidings of him?

Pisanio : He hath been search'd among the dead and living, [p]But no trace of
him.

Cymbeline : To my grief, I am [p]The heir of his reward; [p][To BELARIUS,
GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS] [p]which I will add [p]To you, the liver,
heart and brain of Britain, [p]By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the
time [p]To ask of whence you are. Report it.

Belarius : Sir, [p]In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen: [p]Further to boast
were neither true nor modest, [p]Unless I add, we are honest.

Cymbeline : Bow your knees. [p]Arise my knights o' the battle: I create
you [p]Companions to our person and will fit you [p]With dignities
becoming your estates. [p][Enter CORNELIUS and Ladies] [p]There's
business in these faces. Why so sadly [p]Greet you our victory? you
look like Romans, [p]And not o' the court of Britain.

Cornelius : Hail, great king! [p]To sour your happiness, I must report [p]The
queen is dead.

Cymbeline : Who worse than a physician [p]Would this report become? But I
consider, [p]By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death [p]Will
seize the doctor too. How ended she?

Cornelius : With horror, madly dying, like her life, [p]Which, being cruel to the
world, concluded [p]Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd [p]I
will report, so please you: these her women [p]Can trip me, if I err;
who with wet cheeks [p]Were present when she finish'd.

Cymbeline : Prithee, say.

Cornelius : First, she confess'd she never loved you, only [p]Affected greatness
got by you, not you: [p]Married your royalty, was wife to your
place; [p]Abhorr'd your person.

Cymbeline : She alone knew this; [p]And, but she spoke it dying, I would
not [p]Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed.

Cornelius : Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love [p]With such integrity,
she did confess [p]Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life, [p]But
that her flight prevented it, she had [p]Ta'en off by poison.

Cymbeline : O most delicate fiend! [p]Who is 't can read a woman? Is there more?

Cornelius : More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had [p]For you a mortal
mineral; which, being took, [p]Should by the minute feed on life and
lingering [p]By inches waste you: in which time she purposed, [p]By
watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to [p]O'ercome you with her
show, and in time, [p]When she had fitted you with her craft, to
work [p]Her son into the adoption of the crown: [p]But, failing of her
end by his strange absence, [p]Grew shameless-desperate; open'd, in
despite [p]Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented [p]The evils she
hatch'd were not effected; so [p]Despairing died.

Cymbeline : Heard you all this, her women?

First Lady : We did, so please your highness.

Cymbeline : Mine eyes [p]Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; [p]Mine ears,
that heard her flattery; nor my heart, [p]That thought her like her
seeming; it had [p]been vicious [p]To have mistrusted her: yet, O my
daughter! [p]That it was folly in me, thou mayst say, [p]And prove it
in thy feeling. Heaven mend all! [p][Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the
Soothsayer, and other] [p]Roman Prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS
LEONATUS [p]behind, and IMOGEN] [p]Thou comest not, Caius, now for
tribute that [p]The Britons have razed out, though with the loss [p]Of
many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit [p]That their good souls
may be appeased with slaughter [p]Of you their captives, which ourself
have granted: [p]So think of your estate.

Caius Lucius : Consider, sir, the chance of war: the day [p]Was yours by accident;
had it gone with us, [p]We should not, when the blood was
cool, [p]have threaten'd [p]Our prisoners with the sword. But since
the gods [p]Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives [p]May be
call'd ransom, let it come: sufficeth [p]A Roman with a Roman's heart
can suffer: [p]Augustus lives to think on't: and so much [p]For my
peculiar care. This one thing only [p]I will entreat; my boy, a Briton
born, [p]Let him be ransom'd: never master had [p]A page so kind, so
duteous, diligent, [p]So tender over his occasions, true, [p]So feat,
so nurse-like: let his virtue join [p]With my request, which I make
bold your highness [p]Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton
harm, [p]Though he have served a Roman: save him, sir, [p]And spare no
blood beside.

Cymbeline : I have surely seen him: [p]His favour is familiar to me. Boy, [p]Thou
hast look'd thyself into my grace, [p]And art mine own. I know not
why, wherefore, [p]To say 'live, boy:' ne'er thank thy master;
live: [p]And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt, [p]Fitting my
bounty and thy state, I'll give it; [p]Yea, though thou do demand a
prisoner, [p]The noblest ta'en.

Imogen : I humbly thank your highness.

Caius Lucius : I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad; [p]And yet I know thou wilt.

Imogen : No, no: alack, [p]There's other work in hand: I see a thing [p]Bitter
to me as death: your life, good master, [p]Must shuffle for itself.

Caius Lucius : The boy disdains me, [p]He leaves me, scorns me: briefly die their
joys [p]That place them on the truth of girls and boys. [p]Why stands
he so perplex'd?

Cymbeline : What wouldst thou, boy? [p]I love thee more and more: think more and
more [p]What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on?
speak, [p]Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend?

Imogen : He is a Roman; no more kin to me [p]Than I to your highness; who,
being born your vassal, [p]Am something nearer.

Cymbeline : Wherefore eyest him so?

Imogen : I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please [p]To give me hearing.

Cymbeline : Ay, with all my heart, [p]And lend my best attention. What's thy
name?

Imogen : Fidele, sir.

Cymbeline : Thou'rt my good youth, my page; [p]I'll be thy master: walk with me;
speak freely.

Belarius : Is not this boy revived from death?

Arviragus : One sand another [p]Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad [p]Who
died, and was Fidele. What think you?

Guiderius : The same dead thing alive.

Belarius : Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; forbear; [p]Creatures may
be alike: were 't he, I am sure [p]He would have spoke to us.

Guiderius : But we saw him dead.

Belarius : Be silent; let's see further.

Pisanio : [Aside]. It is my mistress: [p]Since she is living, let the time run
on [p]To good or bad.

Cymbeline : Come, stand thou by our side; [p]Make thy demand aloud. [p][To
IACHIMO] [p]Sir, step you forth; [p]Give answer to this boy, and do it
freely; [p]Or, by our greatness and the grace of it, [p]Which is our
honour, bitter torture shall [p]Winnow the truth from falsehood. On,
speak to him.

Imogen : My boon is, that this gentleman may render [p]Of whom he had this
ring.

Posthumus Leonatus : [Aside] What's that to him?

Cymbeline : That diamond upon your finger, say [p]How came it yours?

Iachimo : Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that [p]Which, to be spoke, would
torture thee.

Cymbeline : How! me?

Iachimo : I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that [p]Which torments me to
conceal. By villany [p]I got this ring: 'twas Leonatus' jewel; [p]Whom
thou didst banish; and--which more may [p]grieve thee, [p]As it doth
me--a nobler sir ne'er lived [p]'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear
more, my lord?

Cymbeline : All that belongs to this.

Iachimo : That paragon, thy daughter,-- [p]For whom my heart drops blood, and my
false spirits [p]Quail to remember--Give me leave; I faint.

Cymbeline : My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength: [p]I had rather thou
shouldst live while nature will [p]Than die ere I hear more: strive,
man, and speak.

Iachimo : Upon a time,--unhappy was the clock [p]That struck the hour!--it was
in Rome,--accursed [p]The mansion where!--'twas at a feast,--O,
would [p]Our viands had been poison'd, or at least [p]Those which I
heaved to head!--the good Posthumus-- [p]What should I say? he was too
good to be [p]Where ill men were; and was the best of all [p]Amongst
the rarest of good ones,--sitting sadly, [p]Hearing us praise our
loves of Italy [p]For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast [p]Of
him that best could speak, for feature, laming [p]The shrine of Venus,
or straight-pight Minerva. [p]Postures beyond brief nature, for
condition, [p]A shop of all the qualities that man [p]Loves woman for,
besides that hook of wiving, [p]Fairness which strikes the eye--

Cymbeline : I stand on fire: [p]Come to the matter.

Iachimo : All too soon I shall, [p]Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This
Posthumus, [p]Most like a noble lord in love and one [p]That had a
royal lover, took his hint; [p]And, not dispraising whom we
praised,--therein [p]He was as calm as virtue--he began [p]His
mistress' picture; which by his tongue [p]being made, [p]And then a
mind put in't, either our brags [p]Were crack'd of kitchen-trolls, or
his description [p]Proved us unspeaking sots.

Cymbeline : Nay, nay, to the purpose.

Iachimo : Your daughter's chastity--there it begins. [p]He spake of her, as Dian
had hot dreams, [p]And she alone were cold: whereat I, wretch, [p]Made
scruple of his praise; and wager'd with him [p]Pieces of gold 'gainst
this which then he wore [p]Upon his honour'd finger, to attain [p]In
suit the place of's bed and win this ring [p]By hers and mine
adultery. He, true knight, [p]No lesser of her honour
confident [p]Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring; [p]And would
so, had it been a carbuncle [p]Of Phoebus' wheel, and might so safely,
had it [p]Been all the worth of's car. Away to Britain [p]Post I in
this design: well may you, sir, [p]Remember me at court; where I was
taught [p]Of your chaste daughter the wide difference [p]'Twixt
amorous and villanous. Being thus quench'd [p]Of hope, not longing,
mine Italian brain [p]'Gan in your duller Britain operate [p]Most
vilely; for my vantage, excellent: [p]And, to be brief, my practise so
prevail'd, [p]That I return'd with simular proof enough [p]To make the
noble Leonatus mad, [p]By wounding his belief in her renown [p]With
tokens thus, and thus; averting notes [p]Of chamber-hanging, pictures,
this her bracelet,-- [p]O cunning, how I got it!--nay, some
marks [p]Of secret on her person, that he could not [p]But think her
bond of chastity quite crack'd, [p]I having ta'en the forfeit.
Whereupon-- [p]Methinks, I see him now--

Posthumus Leonatus : [Advancing] Ay, so thou dost, [p]Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous
fool, [p]Egregious murderer, thief, any thing [p]That's due to all the
villains past, in being, [p]To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or
poison, [p]Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out [p]For
torturers ingenious: it is I [p]That all the abhorred things o' the
earth amend [p]By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, [p]That
kill'd thy daughter:--villain-like, I lie-- [p]That caused a lesser
villain than myself, [p]A sacrilegious thief, to do't: the
temple [p]Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself. [p]Spit, and throw
stones, cast mire upon me, set [p]The dogs o' the street to bay me:
every villain [p]Be call'd Posthumus Leonitus; and [p]Be villany less
than 'twas! O Imogen! [p]My queen, my life, my wife! O
Imogen, [p]Imogen, Imogen!

Imogen : Peace, my lord; hear, hear--

Posthumus Leonatus : Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page, [p]There lie thy
part.

Pisanio : O, gentlemen, help! [p]Mine and your mistress! O, my lord
Posthumus! [p]You ne'er kill'd Imogen til now. Help, help! [p]Mine
honour'd lady!

Cymbeline : Does the world go round?

Posthumus Leonatus : How come these staggers on me?

Pisanio : Wake, my mistress!

Cymbeline : If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me [p]To death with mortal
joy.

Pisanio : How fares thy mistress?

Imogen : O, get thee from my sight; [p]Thou gavest me poison: dangerous fellow,
hence! [p]Breathe not where princes are.

Cymbeline : The tune of Imogen!

Pisanio : Lady, [p]The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if [p]That box I gave
you was not thought by me [p]A precious thing: I had it from the
queen.

Cymbeline : New matter still?

Imogen : It poison'd me.

Cornelius : O gods! [p]I left out one thing which the queen confess'd. [p]Which
must approve thee honest: 'If Pisanio [p]Have,' said she, 'given his
mistress that confection [p]Which I gave him for cordial, she is
served [p]As I would serve a rat.'

Cymbeline : What's this, Comelius?

Cornelius : The queen, sir, very oft importuned me [p]To temper poisons for her,
still pretending [p]The satisfaction of her knowledge only [p]In
killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs, [p]Of no esteem: I, dreading
that her purpose [p]Was of more danger, did compound for her [p]A
certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease [p]The present power of
life, but in short time [p]All offices of nature should again [p]Do
their due functions. Have you ta'en of it?

Imogen : Most like I did, for I was dead.

Belarius : My boys, [p]There was our error.

Guiderius : This is, sure, Fidele.

Imogen : Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? [p]Think that you are
upon a rock; and now [p]Throw me again.

Posthumus Leonatus : Hang there like a fruit, my soul, [p]Till the tree die!

Cymbeline : How now, my flesh, my child! [p]What, makest thou me a dullard in this
act? [p]Wilt thou not speak to me?

Imogen : [Kneeling] Your blessing, sir.

Belarius : [To GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS] Though you did love [p]this youth, I
blame ye not: [p]You had a motive for't.

Cymbeline : My tears that fall [p]Prove holy water on thee! Imogen, [p]Thy
mother's dead.

Imogen : I am sorry for't, my lord.

Cymbeline : O, she was nought; and long of her it was [p]That we meet here so
strangely: but her son [p]Is gone, we know not how nor where.

Pisanio : My lord, [p]Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord
Cloten, [p]Upon my lady's missing, came to me [p]With his sword drawn;
foam'd at the mouth, and swore, [p]If I discover'd not which way she
was gone, [p]It was my instant death. By accident, [p]had a feigned
letter of my master's [p]Then in my pocket; which directed him [p]To
seek her on the mountains near to Milford; [p]Where, in a frenzy, in
my master's garments, [p]Which he enforced from me, away he
posts [p]With unchaste purpose and with oath to violate [p]My lady's
honour: what became of him [p]I further know not.

Guiderius : Let me end the story: [p]I slew him there.

Cymbeline : Marry, the gods forfend! [p]I would not thy good deeds should from my
lips [p]Pluck a bard sentence: prithee, valiant youth, [p]Deny't
again.

Guiderius : I have spoke it, and I did it.

Cymbeline : He was a prince.

Guiderius : A most incivil one: the wrongs he did me [p]Were nothing prince-like;
for he did provoke me [p]With language that would make me spurn the
sea, [p]If it could so roar to me: I cut off's head; [p]And am right
glad he is not standing here [p]To tell this tale of mine.

Cymbeline : I am sorry for thee: [p]By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and
must [p]Endure our law: thou'rt dead.

Imogen : That headless man [p]I thought had been my lord.

Cymbeline : Bind the offender, [p]And take him from our presence.

Belarius : Stay, sir king: [p]This man is better than the man he slew, [p]As well
descended as thyself; and hath [p]More of thee merited than a band of
Clotens [p]Had ever scar for. [p][To the Guard] [p]Let his arms
alone; [p]They were not born for bondage.

Cymbeline : Why, old soldier, [p]Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid
for, [p]By tasting of our wrath? How of descent [p]As good as we?

Arviragus : In that he spake too far.

Cymbeline : And thou shalt die for't.

Belarius : We will die all three: [p]But I will prove that two on's are as
good [p]As I have given out him. My sons, I must, [p]For mine own
part, unfold a dangerous speech, [p]Though, haply, well for you.

Arviragus : Your danger's ours.

Guiderius : And our good his.

Belarius : Have at it then, by leave. [p]Thou hadst, great king, a subject
who [p]Was call'd Belarius.

Cymbeline : What of him? he is [p]A banish'd traitor.

Belarius : He it is that hath [p]Assumed this age; indeed a banish'd man; [p]I
know not how a traitor.

Cymbeline : Take him hence: [p]The whole world shall not save him.

Belarius : Not too hot: [p]First pay me for the nursing of thy sons; [p]And let
it be confiscate all, so soon [p]As I have received it.

Cymbeline : Nursing of my sons!

Belarius : I am too blunt and saucy: here's my knee: [p]Ere I arise, I will
prefer my sons; [p]Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir, [p]These
two young gentlemen, that call me father [p]And think they are my
sons, are none of mine; [p]They are the issue of your loins, my
liege, [p]And blood of your begetting.

Cymbeline : How! my issue!

Belarius : So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, [p]Am that Belarius whom
you sometime banish'd: [p]Your pleasure was my mere offence, my
punishment [p]Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd [p]Was all
the harm I did. These gentle princes-- [p]For such and so they
are--these twenty years [p]Have I train'd up: those arts they have as
I [p]Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as [p]Your highness
knows. Their nurse, Euriphile, [p]Whom for the theft I wedded, stole
these children [p]Upon my banishment: I moved her to't, [p]Having
received the punishment before, [p]For that which I did then: beaten
for loyalty [p]Excited me to treason: their dear loss, [p]The more of
you 'twas felt, the more it shaped [p]Unto my end of stealing them.
But, gracious sir, [p]Here are your sons again; and I must lose [p]Two
of the sweet'st companions in the world. [p]The benediction of these
covering heavens [p]Fall on their heads like dew! for they are
worthy [p]To inlay heaven with stars.

Cymbeline : Thou weep'st, and speak'st. [p]The service that you three have done is
more [p]Unlike than this thou tell'st. I lost my children: [p]If these
be they, I know not how to wish [p]A pair of worthier sons.

Belarius : Be pleased awhile. [p]This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, [p]Most
worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius: [p]This gentleman, my
Cadwal, Arviragus, [p]Your younger princely son; he, sir, was
lapp'd [p]In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand [p]Of his
queen mother, which for more probation [p]I can with ease produce.

Cymbeline : Guiderius had [p]Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; [p]It was a
mark of wonder.

Belarius : This is he; [p]Who hath upon him still that natural stamp: [p]It was
wise nature's end in the donation, [p]To be his evidence now.

Cymbeline : O, what, am I [p]A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er
mother [p]Rejoiced deliverance more. Blest pray you be, [p]That, after
this strange starting from your orbs, [p]may reign in them now! O
Imogen, [p]Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.

Imogen : No, my lord; [p]I have got two worlds by 't. O my gentle
brothers, [p]Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter [p]But I am
truest speaker you call'd me brother, [p]When I was but your sister; I
you brothers, [p]When ye were so indeed.

Cymbeline : Did you e'er meet?

Arviragus : Ay, my good lord.

Guiderius : And at first meeting loved; [p]Continued so, until we thought he
died.

Cornelius : By the queen's dram she swallow'd.

Cymbeline : O rare instinct! [p]When shall I hear all through? This
fierce [p]abridgement [p]Hath to it circumstantial branches,
which [p]Distinction should be rich in. Where? how lived You? [p]And
when came you to serve our Roman captive? [p]How parted with your
brothers? how first met them? [p]Why fled you from the court? and
whither? These, [p]And your three motives to the battle, with [p]I
know not how much more, should be demanded; [p]And all the other
by-dependencies, [p]From chance to chance: but nor the time nor
place [p]Will serve our long inter'gatories. See, [p]Posthumus anchors
upon Imogen, [p]And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye [p]On
him, her brother, me, her master, hitting [p]Each object with a joy:
the counterchange [p]Is severally in all. Let's quit this
ground, [p]And smoke the temple with our sacrifices. [p][To
BELARIUS] [p]Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever.

Imogen : You are my father too, and did relieve me, [p]To see this gracious
season.

Cymbeline : All o'erjoy'd, [p]Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too, [p]For
they shall taste our comfort.

Imogen : My good master, [p]I will yet do you service.

Caius Lucius : Happy be you!

Cymbeline : The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, [p]He would have well
becomed this place, and graced [p]The thankings of a king.

Posthumus Leonatus : I am, sir, [p]The soldier that did company these three [p]In poor
beseeming; 'twas a fitment for [p]The purpose I then follow'd. That I
was he, [p]Speak, Iachimo: I had you down and might [p]Have made you
finish.

Iachimo : [Kneeling] I am down again: [p]But now my heavy conscience sinks my
knee, [p]As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you, [p]Which
I so often owe: but your ring first; [p]And here the bracelet of the
truest princess [p]That ever swore her faith.

Posthumus Leonatus : Kneel not to me: [p]The power that I have on you is, to spare
you; [p]The malice towards you to forgive you: live, [p]And deal with
others better.

Cymbeline : Nobly doom'd! [p]We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law; [p]Pardon's
the word to all.

Arviragus : You holp us, sir, [p]As you did mean indeed to be our
brother; [p]Joy'd are we that you are.

Posthumus Leonatus : Your servant, princes. Good my lord of Rome, [p]Call forth your
soothsayer: as I slept, methought [p]Great Jupiter, upon his eagle
back'd, [p]Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows [p]Of mine own
kindred: when I waked, I found [p]This label on my bosom; whose
containing [p]Is so from sense in hardness, that I can [p]Make no
collection of it: let him show [p]His skill in the construction.

Caius Lucius : Philarmonus!

Soothsayer : Here, my good lord.

Caius Lucius : Read, and declare the meaning.

Soothsayer : [Reads] 'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself [p]unknown, without
seeking find, and be embraced by a [p]piece of tender air; and when
from a stately cedar [p]shall be lopped branches, which, being dead
many [p]years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old [p]stock, and
freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end [p]his miseries, Britain be
fortunate and flourish in [p]peace and plenty.' [p]Thou, Leonatus, art
the lion's whelp; [p]The fit and apt construction of thy
name, [p]Being Leonatus, doth import so much. [p][To CYMBELINE] [p]The
piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, [p]Which we call 'mollis
aer;' and 'mollis aer' [p]We term it 'mulier:' which 'mulier' I
divine [p]Is this most constant wife; who, even now, [p]Answering the
letter of the oracle, [p]Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd
about [p]With this most tender air.

Cymbeline : This hath some seeming.

Soothsayer : The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, [p]Personates thee: and thy lopp'd
branches point [p]Thy two sons forth; who, by Belarius stol'n, [p]For
many years thought dead, are now revived, [p]To the majestic cedar
join'd, whose issue [p]Promises Britain peace and plenty.

Cymbeline : Well [p]My peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius, [p]Although the
victor, we submit to Caesar, [p]And to the Roman empire;
promising [p]To pay our wonted tribute, from the which [p]We were
dissuaded by our wicked queen; [p]Whom heavens, in justice, both on
her and hers, [p]Have laid most heavy hand.

Soothsayer : The fingers of the powers above do tune [p]The harmony of this peace.
The vision [p]Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke [p]Of this
yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant [p]Is full accomplish'd; for
the Roman eagle, [p]From south to west on wing soaring
aloft, [p]Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o' the sun [p]So
vanish'd: which foreshow'd our princely eagle, [p]The imperial Caesar,
should again unite [p]His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, [p]Which
shines here in the west.

Cymbeline : Laud we the gods; [p]And let our crooked smokes climb to their
nostrils [p]From our blest altars. Publish we this peace [p]To all our
subjects. Set we forward: let [p]A Roman and a British ensign
wave [p]Friendly together: so through Lud's-town march: [p]And in the
temple of great Jupiter [p]Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with
feasts. [p]Set on there! Never was a war did cease, [p]Ere bloody
hands were wash'd, with such a peace.

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Next: Act 5 - Scene 5

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