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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.

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Act II. Scene III.

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.

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