University of Virginia Library

SCENE VIII.

Cymbeline and Bellarius enter attended.
The Priestess drops her Veil.
Priest.
What would our Cymbeline with great Andate?

Cymb.
O, sacred dame, by whom the Heavens pronounce
Their past and future purposes! you see
A man, amid the pride of royalty,
Most wretched—shorn of children, and of kin—
Of all the joys and amities that could
Endear existence—as a lonely oak,
Lopp'd of his branches!—Tell me, sacred dame,
For which of my mistreadings, have these ills
Fallen thick and heavy on me?

Priest.
For a sister!

Cymb.
The laws did warrant me.

Priest.
What law can warrant
Against the law of Heaven—great nature's law,
Writ in the bosom, stamp'd in characters
Of mercy on the human sense divine,
That binds the feeling brotherhood of man,
And 'fines him into godhead?

Cymb.
O pardon! I have greatly sinn'd—the pride
Of novel kingship, and the scorn of shame,
So near our throne, thro' her incontinence,
Enforced the inhuman act.

Priest.
Thus saith Andate:
Never shalt thou behold the chearing face
Of sympathizing friendship, never feel
The blest embracements of a daughter's fondness;
Till that the melting eye of Adelaide
Shall weep, in kind compassion, o'er thy griefs,
And wash thy stains away.

Cymb.
That were too much—
Too much to hope from her forgiving goodness,
If that the gods, by means miraculous,
Had yet preserv'd her to me—Never shall
These eyes, in mortal sockettings, be blest
With such a speculation!

Priest.
O, behold!

[Throws up her veil
Cymb.
My sister! my lost sister!—

Bell.
O, the gods!—

[Fainting.
Cymb.
Help here!—my friend is dying.—

[Supporting Bellarius.
Priest.
Bless'd powers!
Through all his guise—I think—'tis he—'tis he!—
My lord, my ever loved, my long lamented,
Lost Leontius!

[Embraces.
Bell.
O, Adelaide—thine arm—my Heaven
Has come too sudden on me!—

Cymb.
Now, indeed,
I see it is Leontius—'tis the man
Who, long since, sought the life he saved so lately.

Bell.
Not with a traiterous poniard, Cymbeline—
At noon, and hand to hand.

Cymb.
True, true, my brother!
I see the reason, now—it was resistless.
Had you but told me, ere you went to Rome—
Or had our Adelaide confest her spousals
With my heart's chosen—what a mass of guilt,
And grief, had then been spared?

Priest.
And would you, then,
Would you have pardon'd?

Cymb.
Yes, with that full bounty,
That now I claim from both.

Bell.
My King, my master!—

[Kneels.
Priest.
O, now, indeed, my fond, my new found brother!

[Kneels.
Cymb.
Rise to my arms, my heart!—there reign, united,
And make up all my treasure!—
[Embrace.
Say, my sister,
How came this strange event, this blest reversion
Of joys, the last to look for?—Saw I not
The flames ascend thy funeral pyre?

Priest.
You did;
But then, a little charitable art,
Conveyed me, inward, by clandestine stairs,
Just as the flames ascended.—Many a victim,
Our pious priestess, in like manner, saved,
For the dear meeting, and enraptured clasp,
Of fathers, sons, and brothers.

Bell.
But the pledge,
The pledge of our connubial loves, my Adelaide—
What hath befallen?

Priest.
Our late good priestess, Etheline,
Some few nights since, upon her dying couch
Confest, she had my new-born babe convey'd,
Wrapp'd in rich vestments, to my royal brother,
With a fair scroll, expressive of these words—
“Andate sends a son to Cymbeline.”

Cymb.
And was our Leonatus, then, the son
Of my sole sister?—Let mine eyes, but once
Behold my Imogen and him united,
Then, close them, gods, in peace!

Priest.
Approach, my children,
And take the blessing of your King and father.