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;

Titus Andronicus.

A

TRAGEDY,

BY

WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.

ACCURATELY PRINTED

FROM THE TEXT OF

MR. STEEVENS'S LAST EDITION.