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Whom heavens in justice, both on her and hers,
Have laid most heavy hand.

SOOTHSAYER. The fingers of the pow'rs above do tune
The harmony of this peace. The vision

Which I made known to Lucius ere the stroke
Of yet this scarce-cold battle, at this instant

Is full accomplish'd; for the Roman eagle,
From south to west on wing soaring aloft,

Lessen'd herself and in the beams o' th' sun
So vanish'd; which foreshow'd our princely eagle,

Th'imperial Caesar, Caesar, should again unite
His favour with the radiant Cymbeline,

Which shines here in the west.
CYMBELINE. 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
-THE END-

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