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. 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; |