[thirst:) (For most do taste through fond intemperate Soon as the potion works, their human counte
To quench the drought of Phoebus; which asthey | Venus now wakes, and wakens love. Come, let us our rites begin; 'Tis only day-light that makes sin, Which these dun shades will ne'er report. Hail, goddess of nocturnal sport, Dark-veil'd Cotytto! to whom the secret flame. Of midnight torches burns; mysterious dame, That ne'er art call'd, but when the dragon woom Of Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom, And makes one blot of all the air;
The express resemblance of the gods, is chang'd İnto some brutish form of wolf, or bear,
Or ounce, or tiger, hog, or bearded goat,
All other parts remaining as they were; And they, o perfect is their misery, Not once perceive their foul disfigurement,
But boast themselves more comely than before; And all their friends and native home forget, To roll with pleasure in a sensual stye. Therefore when any, favour'd of high Jove, Chances to pass through this adventurous glade, Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star
Stay the cloudy ebon chair,
Wherein thou rid'st with Hecat', and befriend Us thy vow'd priests, till utmost end
Of all thy dues be done, and none left out; Ere the babbling eastern scout,
The nice Morn, on the Indian steep
From her cabin'd loop-hole peep,
I shoot from Heaven, to give him safe convoy,
And to the tell-tale Sun descry
As now I do: but first I must put off These my sky-robes spun out of Iris' woof, And take the weeds and likeness of a swain That to the service of this house belongs, Who with his soft pipe, and smooth-dittied song, Well knows to still the wild winds when they roar, And hush the waving woods; nor of less faith, And in this office of his mountain watch Likeliest, and nearest to the present aid Of this occasion. But I hear the tread Of hateful steps; I must be viewless now,
COMUS enters with a charming-rod in one hand, his glass in the other; with him a rout of monsters, headed like sundry sorts of wild beasts, but otherwise like men and women, their apparel glistering; they come in making a riotous and unruly noise, with torches in their hands.
The star, that bids the shepherd fold, Now the top of Heaven doth hold; And the gilded car of day His glowing axle doth allay In the steep Atlantic stream;
And the slope Sun his upward beam Shoots against the dusky pole, Pacing towards the other goal Of his chamber in the east.
Mean while welcome Joy, and Feast, Midnight Shout, and Revelry, Tipsy Dance, and Jollity.
Braid your locks with rosy twine, Dropping odours, dropping wine. Rigour now is gone to bed,
And Advice with scrupulous head. Strict Age and sour Severity,
With their grave saws, in slumber lie, We, that are of purer fire, Imitate the starry quire,
Our conceal'd solemnity.
Come, knit hands, and beat the ground In a light fantastic round.
Break off, break off, I feel the different pace Of some chaste footing near about this ground. Run to your shrouds, within these brakes and trees;
Our number may affright: some virgin sure (For so I can distinguish by mine art) Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms, And to my wily trains: I shall ere long Be well-stock'd with as fair a herd as graz'd About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl My dazzling spells into the spungy air, Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion, And give it false presentments, lest the place And my quaint habits breed astonishment, And put the damsel to suspicious flight; Which must not be, for that's against my course: I, under fair pretence of friendly ends, And well-plac'd words of glozing courtesy Baited with reasons not unplausible, Wind me into the easy-hearted man, And hug him into snares. When once her eye
100 Hath met the virtue of this magic dust, I shall appear some harmless villager, Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear. But here she comes; I fairly step aside, And hearken, if I may, her business here.
This way the noise was, if mine ear be true, 170 My best guide now: methought it was the sound Of riot and ill-manag'd merriment,
110 Such as the jocund flute, or gamesome pipe, Stirs up among the loose unletter'd hinds; When for their teeming flocks, and granges full, In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan, And thank the gods amiss. I should be loth To meet the rudeness, and swill'd insolence, Of such late wassailers; yet O! where else Shall I inform my unacquainted feet In the blind mazes of this tangled wood? My brothers, when they saw me wearied out With this long way, resolving here to lodge Under the spreading favour of these pines, Stept, as they said, to the next thicket side, To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit
Who, in their nightly watchful spheres, Lead in swift round the months and years, The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove, Now to the Moon in wavering morrice move; And, on the tawny sands and shelves, Trip the pert faeries and the dapper elves, By dimpled brook and fountain brim, The wood-nymphs, deck'd with daisies trim, Their merry wakes and pastimes keep; What hath night to do with sleep?
Night hath better sweets to prove,
As the kind hospitable woods provide. They left me then, when the gray-hooded Even, Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed, 189 Rose from the bindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain. But where they are, and why they came not back, Is now the labour of my thoughts; 'tis likeliest They had engag'd their wandering steps too far; And envious darkness, ere they could return, Had stole them from me: else, O thievish Night, Why should'st thou, but for some felonious end, In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars, That Nature hung in Heaven, and fill'd their With everlasting oil, to give due light To the misled and lonely traveller? This is the place, as well as I may guess, Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth Was rife, and perfect in my listening ear; Yet nought but single darkness do I find. What this might be? A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory,
Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, And aery tongues, that syllable mens names 208 On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses. These thoughts may startle well, but not astound, The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended By a strong siding champion, Conscience.- O welcome pure-ey'd Faith, white-handed Hope, Thou hovering angel, girt with golden wings, And thou, unblemish'd form of Chastity! I see ye visibly, and now believe
That he, the Supreme Good, to whom all things Are but as slavish officers of vengeance, Would send a glistering guardian, if need were, To keep my life and honour unassail'd. Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night?
I did not err, there does a sable clond Turn forth her silver lining on the night, And casts a gleam over this tufted grove: I cannot halloo to my brothers, but Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest I'll venture; for my new-enliven'd spirits Prompt me; and they perhaps are not far off.
At every fall smoothing the raven-down Of darkness, till it smil'd! I have oft beard My mother Circe with the Syrens three, Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades, Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs; Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul, And lap it in Elysium: Scylla wept, And chid her barking waves into attention, And fell Charybdis murmur'd soft applause: Yet they in pleasing slumber lull'd the sense, And in sweet madness robb'd it of itself; But such a sacred and home-felt delight, Such sober certainty of waking bliss, I never heard till now.-I'll speak to her, And she shall be my queen.--Hail, foreign wonder! Whom certain these rough shades did never breed, Unless the goddess that in rural shrine Dwell'st here with Pan, or Sylvan; by blest song Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog To touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood, Lad. Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that That is address'd to unattending ears; [praise Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift How to regain my sever'd company, Compell'd me to awake the courteous Echo 275 To give me answer from her mossy couch. Com. What chance, good lady, hath bereft you thus?
Lad. Dim darkness, and this leafy labyrinth. Com. Could that divide you from near-ushering Lad. They left me weary on a grassy turf. guides? Com. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why? Lad. To seek i' the valley some cool friendly
Com. And left your fair side all unguarded, lady? Lad. They were but twain, and purpos'd quick
Lad. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd lips. Com. Two such I saw, what time the labour'd ox In his loose traces from the furrow came, And the swink'd hedger at his supper sat; I saw them under a green mantling vine, That crawls along the side of yon small hill, Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots; Their port was more than human, as they stood: I took it for a faery vision
Of some gay creatures of the element, That in the colours of the rainbow live, And play i' the plighted clouds. I was aw-struck, And, as I past, I worshipt; if those you seek, It were a journey like the path to Heaven, To help you find them.
Lad. Gentle villager, What readiest way would bring me to that place? Com. Due west it rises from this shrubby point. Lad. To find out that, good shepherd, I suppose, In such a scant allowance of star-light, Would overtask the best land-pilot's art, Without the sure guess of well-practis'd feet. 310 Com. I know each lane, and every alley green, Dingle, or bushy dell of this wild wood, And every bosky bourn from side to side, My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood;
In courts of princes, where it first was nam'd 325 Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds,
And yet is most pretended: in a place
Less warranted than this, or less secure,
I cannot be, that I should fear to change it. Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial To my proportion'd strength.—Shepherd, lead on. [Exeunt.]
Enter The TWO BROTHERS.
And sits as safe as in a senate-house; For who would rob a hermit of his weeds, His few books, or his beads, or maple dish, Or do his gray hairs any violence? But Beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard Of dragon-watch, with unenchanted eye, To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit,
El, Br. Unmuffle, ye faint stars; and thou, fair From the rash land of bold Incontinence,
Be barr'd that happiness, might we but hear The folded flocks penn'd in their wattled cotes, Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops, Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock Count the night watches to his feathery dames, "Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering, In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs. But, O that hapless virgin, our lost sister! Where may she wander now, whither betake her From the chill dew, among rude burs and thistles? Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now, Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm Leans her unpillow'd head, fraught with sad fears.
What, if in wild amazement and affright? Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp Of savage hunger, or of savage heat? El. Br. Peace, brother: be not over-exquisite To cast the fashion of uncertain evils:
You may as well spread out the unsunn'd heaps Of misers' treasure by an outlaw's den, And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope Danger will wink on Opportunity, And let a single helpless maiden pass Uninjur'd in this wild surrounding waste. Of night, or loneliness, it recks me not;
I fear the dread events that dog them both, 405 Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person Of our unowned sister, El. Br.
I do not, brother, Infer, as if I thought my sister's state Secure, without all doubt or controversy; Yet, where an equal poise of hope and fear Does arbitrate the event, my nature is That I incline to hope, rather than fear, And gladly banish squint suspicion. My sister is not so defenceless left
As you imagine; she has a hidden strength, 415 Which you remember not. Sec. Br.
What hidden strength, Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that?
El. Br. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength, [own: Which, if Heaven gave it, may be term'd her 'Tis Chastity, my brother, Chastity: She, that has that, is clad in complete steel; And, like a quiver'd nymph with arrows keen, May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths, Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds; Where, through the sacred rays of Chastity,425 No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer, Will dare to soil her virgin purity: Yea there, where very Desolation dwells, By grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid shades, She may pass on with unblench'd majesty, Be it not done in pride, or in presumption. Some say, no evil thing that walks by night In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen, Blue meager hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost That breaks his magic chains at Curfeu time, No goblin, or swart faery of the mine, 436 Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity. Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call Antiquity from the old schools of Greece To testify the arms of Chastity? Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow, Fair silver-shafted queen, for ever chaste,
Wherewith she tam'd the brinded lioness
And spotted mountain-pard, but set at nought The frivolous bolt of Cupid; gods and men Fear'd her stern frown, and she was queen o' the woods.
What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield, That wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin, Wherewith she freez'd her foes to congeal'd stone,
But rigid looks of chaste auterity, And noble grace, that dash'd brute violence With sudden adoration and blank awe? So dear to Heaven is saintly Chastity, That, when a soul is found sincerely, so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt; And, in clear dream and solemn vision, Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear; Till oft converse with heavenly habitants Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape, The unpolluted temple of the mind,
And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence, 460 Till all be made immortal: but when Lust, By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk, But most by lewd and lavish act of sin, Lets in defilement to the inward parts, The soul grows clotted by contagion, Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite lose The divine property of her first being. Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp, Oft seen in charnel vaults and sepulchres Lingering, and sitting by a new made grave, As loth to leave the body that it lov'd, And link'd itself by carnal sensuality To a degenerate and degraded state.
Sec. Br. How charming is divine philosophy! Not harsh, and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute,
And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns. El. Br. List, list; I hear Some far off halloo break the silent air. Sec. B. Methought so too; what should it be? El. B. For certain Either some one like us night-founder'd here, Or else some neighbour woodman, or, at worst, Some roving robber, calling to his fellows.
Sec. B. Heaven keep my sister. Again, again, and near!
Best draw, and stand upon our guard. El. B
I'll halloo : If he be friendly, he comes well; if not, Defence is a good cause, and Heaven be for us. [Enter the Attendant Spirit, habited like a shepherd.]
That halloo I should know; what are you? speak; 490
Come not too near, you fall on iron stakes else. Spir. What voice is that? my young lord? speak again.
Sec. B. O brother, 'tis my father's shepherd,
El. B. Thyrsis? Whose artful strains have oft delay'd
The huddling brook to hear his madrigal, And sweeten'd every muskrose of the dale? How cam'st thou here, good swain? hath any ram Slipt from the fold, or young kid lost his dam, Or straggling wether the pent flock forsook ?
Spir. O my lov'd master's heir, and his next joy, I came not here on such a trivial toy As a stray'd ewe, or to pursue the stealth Of pilfering wolf; not all the fleecy wealth, That doth enrich these downs, is worth a thought To this my errand, and the care it brought. But, O my virgin lady, where is she? How chance she is not in your company? El. B. To tell thee sadly, shepherd, without blame, 510
Or our neglect, we lost her as we came. Spir. Ay me unhappy! then my fears are true. El. B. What fears, good Thyrsis? Pr'ythee briefly show.
Spir. I'll tell ye; 'tis not vain or fabulous, (Though so esteem'd by shallow ignorance,) What the sage poets, taught by the heavenly Storied of old in high immortal verse, Of dire chimeras, and enchanted isles, And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to Hell; For such there be, but unbelief is blind.
Within the navel of this hideous wood, Immur'd in cypress shades a sorcerer dwells, Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus, Deep skill'd in all his mother's witcheries; And here to every thirsty wanderer By sly enticement gives his baneful cup, [poison With many murmurs mix'd, whose pleasing The visage quite transforms of him that drinks, And the inglorious likeness of a beast Fixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintage Character'd in the face: this have I learnt: 550 Tending my flocks hard by i' the hilly crofts, That brow this bottom-glade; whence night by
He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl, Like stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey, Doing abhorred rites to Hecate
In their obscured haunts of inmost bowers. Yet have they many baits, and guileful spells; To inveigle and invite the unwary sense Of them that pass unweeting by the way. This evening late, by then the chewing flocks Had ta'en their supper on the savoury herb 541 Of knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold, I sat me down to watch upon a bank With ivy canopied, and interwove With flaunting honey-suckle, and began, Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy, To meditate my rural minstrelsy, Till Fancy had her fill; but, ere a close, The wonted roar was up amidst the woods, And fill'd the air with barbarous dissonance; 550 At which I ceas'd, and listen'd them a while, Till an unusual stop of sudden silence Gave respite to the drowsy frighted steeds, That draw the litter of close-curtain'd Sleep; At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound Rose like a steam of rich distill'd perfumes, And stole upon the air, that even Silence Was took ere she was ware, and wish'd she might Deny her nature, and be never more, Still to be so displac'd. I was all ear, And took in strains that might create a soul Under the ribs of Death: but O! ere long, Too well I did perceive it was the voice Of my most honour'd lady, your dear sister. Amaz'd I stood, harrow'd with grief and fear,
And, O poor hapless nightingale, thought I, How sweet thou sing'st, how near the deadly snare !
Then down the lawns I ran with headlong haste, Through paths and turnings often trod by day, Till, guided by mine ear, I found the place, Where that damn'd wisard, hid in sly disguise, (For so by certain signs I knew,) had met Already, ere my best speed could prevent, The aidless innocent lady, his wish'd prey; Who gently ask'd if he had seen such two, Supposing him some neighbour villager. Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guess'd Ye were the two she meant; with that I sprung Into swift flight, till I had found you here; But further know I not. Sec. Br. O night, and shades! How are ye join'd with Hell in triple knot Against the unarmed weakness of one virgin, Alone and helpless! Is this the confidence You gave me, brother?
Amongst the rest a small unsightly root, Telling their strange and vigorous faculties: The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it, But of divine effect, he cull'd me out ; Bore a bright golden flower, but not in this soil: But in another country, as he said, Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon: And yet inore med'cinal is it than that moly, That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave; He call'd it hæmony, and gave
And bade me keep it as of sovran use 'Gainst all enchantments, mildew, blast, or damp, Or ghastly furies' apparition.
I purs'd it up, but little reckoning made, But now I find it true; for by this means Till now that this extremity compell'd: I knew the foul enchanter though disguis❜d, Enter'd the very lime-twigs of his spells, And yet came off: if you have this about you, (As I will give you when we go) you may
Yes, and keep it still; Boldly assault the necromancer's hall;
Lean on it safely; not a period Shall be unsaid for me: against the threats Of malice, or of sorcery, or that power Which erring men call Chance, this I hold firm,- Virtue may be assail'd, but never hurt, Surpris'd by unjust force, but not enthrall'd;590 Yea, even that, which mischief meant most harm, Shall in the happy trial prove most glory: But evil on itself shall back recoil, And mix no more with goodness; when at last Gather'd like scum, and settled to itself, It shall be in eternal restless change Self-fed, and self-consumed: if this fail, The pillar'd firmament is rottenness,
And Earth's base built on stubble.-But come,
Against the opposing will and arm of Heaven 600 May never this just sword be lifted up ; But for that damn'd magician, let him be girt With all the grissly legions that troop Under the sooty flag of Acheron,
Harpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms 'Twixt Africa and Ind, I'll find him out, And force him to return his purchase back, Or drag him by the curls to a foul death, Curs'd as his life. Spir. Alas! good venturous youth, I love thy courage yet, and bold emprise; But here thy sword can do thee little stead; Far other arms and other weapons must Be those, that quell the might of hellish charms: He with his bare wand can unthread thy joints, And crumble all thy sinews. El. Br. How durst thou then thyself approach so near, Why pr'ythee, shepherd, As to make this relation? Spir. Care, and utmost shifts, How to secure the lady from surprisal, Brought to my mind a certain shepherd lad, Of small regard to see to, yet well skill'd In every virtuous plant, and healing herb, That spreads her verdant leaf to th' morning ray: He lov'd me well, and oft would beg me sing; Which when I did, he on the tender grass Would sit and hearken even to ecstasy, And in requital ope his leathern scrip, And show me simples of a thousand names,
Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood, And brandish'd blade, rush on him; break his glass,
And shed the luscious liquor on the ground, But seize his wand; though he and his curs'd
Fierce sign of battle make, and menace high, Or like the sons of Vulcan vomit smoke, Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink. El. Br. Thyrsis, lead on apace, I'll follow thee; And some good angel bear a shield before us.
The Scene changes to a stately palace, set out with all manner of deliciousness: soft music, tables spread with all dainties. Comus appears with his rabble, and the Lady set in an enchanted chair, to whom he offers his glass, which she puts by, and goes about to rise.
Nay, lady, sit; if I but wave this wand, Your nerves are all chain'd up in alabaster, 660 And you a statue, or, as Daphne was, Root-bound, that fled Apollo.
Lad. Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind Fool, do not boast; With all thy charms, although this corporal rind Thou hast immanacled, while Heaven sees good. Com. Why are you vex'd, lady? Why do you frown?
Here dwell no frowns, nor anger; from these gates Sorrow flies far: see, here be all the pleasures, That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts, When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns Brisk as the April buds in primrose-season. 671 And first, behold this cordial julep here, That flames and dances in his crystal bounds, With spirits of balm and fragrant syrops mix'd; Not that nepenthes, which the wife of Thone In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena, Is of such power to stir up joy as this, To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst. Why should you be so cruel to yourself,
And to those dainty limbs, which Nature lent 6SQ
For gentle usage and soft delicacy? But you invert the covenants of her trust,
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