Soothsayer Monologue from Cymbeline

From Cymbeline by William Shakespeare

male · inspirational · 1:05 min

When as a lion’s whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embrac’d by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopp’d branches which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty. Thou, Leonatus, art the lion’s whelp; The fit and apt construction of thy name, Being Leo-natus, doth import so much. The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, Which we call, and We term it; which I divine Is this most constant wife, who even now Answering the letter of the oracle, Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp’d about With this most tender air.

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