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Yet, when he walks his tempting rounds, the

sorcerer

By magic power their human face restores
And outward beauty, to delude the sight.

2 Spi. Lose they the memory of their former state?

1 Spi. No, they (so 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 sty.

2 Spi. Degrading fall! from such a dire dis

tress

What pain too great our mortal charge to save?
1 Spi. For this, when any favour'd of high Jove
Chances to pass through this advent❜rous glade,
Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star

I shoot from heaven to give him safe convoy,
As now I do; and opportune thou com❜st
To share an office which thy nature loves.
This be our task; 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-ditty'd 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. Veil'd in such disguise
Be it my care the sever'd youths to guide
To their distress'd and lonely sister; thine
To cheer her footsteps through the magic wood.
Whatever blessed spirit hovers near,
On errands bent to wand'ring mortal good,
If need require, him summon to thy side;
Unseen of mortal eye such thoughts inspire,
Such heaven-born confidence, as need demands
In hour of trial.

2 Spi. Swift as winged winds

To my glad charge I fly.

1 Spi. I'll wait a while

To watch the sorcerer, for I hear the tread
Of hateful steps: I must be viewless now.

[Exit.

COMUS enters, with a charming rod in one hand, his glass in the other; with him a rout of Men and Women dressed as Bacchanals; they come in, making a riotous and unruly noise, with torches in their hands.

Comus. [Speaks.] 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 tow'rd the other goal
Of his chamber in the east;
Mean-while welcome joy and feast.

SONG.

Now Phabus sinketh in the west, Welcome song and welcome jest,

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SONG. By a Woman.

By dimpled brook and fountain brim
The Wood-nymphs, deck'd with daisies trim,
Their merry wakes and pastimes keep;
What has night to do with sleep?

Night has better sweets to prove ;
Venus now wakes and wakens love;
Come, let us our rites begin ;

'Tis only day-light that makes sin.

Comus. 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-womb Of Stygian darkness spits her thickest gloom, And makes one blot of all the air,

Stay thy 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 blabbing eastern scout,

The nice Morn, on th' Indian steep
From her cabin loop-hole peep,
And to the tell-tale Sun descry
Our conceal'd solemnity.

SONG. BY COMUS and Woman.
From tyrant laws and customs free,
We follow sweet variety;

By turns we drink, and dance, and sing,
Love for ever on the wing.

Why should niggard rules control
Transports of the jovial soul?
No dull stinting hour we own,
Pleasure counts our time alone.

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(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 pow'r to cheat the eye with blear illusion,
And give it false presentiments, 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
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 bus'ness here.

Enter the Lady.

Lady. This way the noise was if mine ear be

true,

My best guide now: methought it was the sound
Of hot ill-manag'd merriment;

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 loath
To meet the rudeness and swill'd insolence
Of such late rioters; yet oh, where else
Shall I inform my unacquainted feet
In the blind mazes of this tangled wood?
Comus aside.] I'll ease her of that care, and be
her guide.

Lady. My brothers, when they saw me weary'd

out

With this long way, resolving here to lodge
Under the spreading favour of these pines,
Stepp'd, as they said, to the next thicket side
To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit
As the kind hospitable woods provide.
They left me then when the
grey- -hooded Even,
Like a sad votarist in palmer's weeds,
Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain;
But where they are, and why they come not back,
Is now the labour of my thoughts: 'tis likeliest
They had engag'd their wand'ring steps too far.
This is the place as well as I may guess,
Whence, ev'n now, the tumult of loud mirth
Was rife, and perfect in my list'ning ear,
Yet nought but single darkness do I find.
What might this be? A thousand fantasies
Begin to throng into my memory,

Of calling shapes and beck'ning shadows dire,
And airy tongues, that syllable mens' names
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 hov'ring angel, girt with golden wings,
And thou unblemish'd form of Chastity!
I see you visibly, and now believe,
That he, the supreme good (to whom all things ill
Are but as slavish officers of vengeance)
Would send a glist'ring 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 cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night,
And cast 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.

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Comus aside.] Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould

Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?
Sure something holy lodges in that breast,
And with these raptures moves the vocal air
To testify his hidden residence:

How sweetly did they float upon the wings
Of silence through the empty vaulted night,
At ev'ry fall smoothing the raven down
Of Darkness till it smil'd! I have oft heard
My mother Circe, with the Sirens three,
Amidst the flow'ry-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 sweet in 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 won-
der!

Whom certain these rough shades did never breed,

Unless the goddess that, in rural shrine, Dwell'st here with Pan or Silvan, by bless'd song Forbidding ev'ry bleak unkindly fog

To touch the prosp'rous growth of this tall wood.

Lady. Nay, gentle shepherd! ill is lost that praise

That is address'd to unattending ears:
Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift
How to regain my sever'd company,
Compell'd me to awake the courteous Echo
To give me answer from her mossy couch.
Com. What chance, good lady, hath bereft you
thus?

Lady. Dim darkness, and this leafy labyrinth. Com. Could that divide you from near-ush'ring guides?

Lady. They left me weary on a grassy turf. Com. By falsehood or discourtesy, or why? Lady. To seek i̇' th' valley some cool friendly spring.

Com. And left your fair side all unguarded, Lady!

Lady. They were but twain, and purpos'd quick

return.

Com. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them?

Lady. How easy my misfortune is to hit!
Com. Imports their loss beside the present need?
Lady. No less than if I should my brothers
lose.

Com. Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom?

Lady. 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't hedger at his supper sat.
1 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 fairy vision

Of some gay creatures of the element,
That in the colours of the rainbow live,
And play i' th' plighted clouds. I was awe-struck,
And as I pass'd I worshipp'd: if those you seek,
It were a journey like the path to heav'n
To help you find them.

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Lady. To find out that, good Shepherd, I sup

pose,

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.
Com. I know each lane and ev'ry alley green,
Dingle or bushy dell, of this wide wood,
And ev'ry bosky bourn from side to side,
My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood;
And if your stray attendants be yet lodg'd,
Or shroud within these limits, I shall know
Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark
From her thatch'd pallat rouse: if otherwise,
I can conduct you, Lady, to a low
But loyal cottage, where you may be safe
Till farther quest.

Lady. Shepherd, I take thy word,
And trust thy honest offer'd courtesy,
Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds
With smoky rafters, than in tap'stry halls
And courts of princes, where it first was nam❜d,
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, bless'd Providence, and square my trial
To my proportion'd strength!---Shepherd, lead
[Exeunt.

on.

Enter COMUS' Crew from behind the trees.

SONG. By a Man.

Fly swiftly, ye minutes! till COMUS receive
The nameless soft transports that beauty can give;
The bowl's frolick joys let him teach her to prove,
And she in return yield the raptures of love.

Without love and wine, wit and beauty are vain,
All grandeur insipid, and riches a pain,
The most splendid palace grows dark as the grave:
Love and wine give, ye Gods, or take back what
you gave.

ACT II.

E. Bro. Unmuffle, ye faint Stars! and thou, fair Moon!

That wont'st to love the traveller's benison,
Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud,
And disinherit Chaos, that reigns here
In double night of darkness and of shades;
Or if your influence be quite damm'd up
With black usurping mists, some gentle taper,
Though a rush candle, from the wicker-hole
Of some clay habitation, visit us

CHORUS.

Away, away, away,
To Comus' court repair;
There night outshines the day,
There yields the melting fair.

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But oh! that hapless virgin, our lost sister!
Where may she wander now, whither betake her
From the chill dew, amongst 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?

E. Bro. Peace, brother; be not over exquisite
To cast the fashion of uncertain evils;
For, grant they be so, while they rest unknown
What need a man forestal his date of grief,
And run to meet what he would most avoid?
Or if they be but false alarms of fear,
How bitter is such self-delusion!
I do not think my sister so to seek,
Or so unprincipled in virtue's book,
And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever,
As that the single want of light and noise
(Not being in danger, as I trust she is not)
Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts,
And put them into misbecoming plight.
Virtue could see to do what Virtue would
By her own radiant light, though sun and moon
Were in the flat sea sunk; and Wisdom's self
Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude,
Where with her best nurse, Contemplation,
She plumes her feathers and lets grow her wings,
That in the various bustle of resort
Were all so ruffled, and sometimes impair'd.
He, that has light within his own clear breast,
May sit i' th' centre and enjoy bright day;
But he, that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts,
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun,
Himself in his own dungeon.

Y. Bro. 'Tis most true

That musing Meditation most affects
The pensive secrecy of desert cell,

Far from the chearful haunt of men and herds,
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 grey 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
From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.
You may as well spread out the unsunn'd heaps
Of miser's 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,
Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person
Of our unowned sister.

E. Bro. 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 th' 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
Which you remember not.

r. Bro. What hidden strength Unless the strength of Heaven? if you mean that. E. Bro. I mean that too; but yet a hidden strength,

Which if Heaven gave it, may be term'd her

own;

'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
No savage fierce, bandit, 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 meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost,
That breaks his magick chains at curfew time,
No goblin, or swart fairy of the mine,
Hath hurtful pow'r 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 friv❜lous bolt of Cupid: gods and men
Fear'd her stern frown, and she was Queen o' th'
woods.

What was the 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 austerity
And noble grace, that dash'd brute violence
With sudden adoration and blank awe?
So dear to Heav'n is saintly chastity,
That, when a soul is found sincerely so,
A thousand livery'd angels lacquey 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 heav'nly habitants
Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape,
The unpolluted temple of the mind,
And turn it by degrees to the soul's essence,
Till all be made immortal.

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E. Bro. Thyrsis? whose artful strains have oft' delay'd

The huddling brook to hear his madrigal,
And sweeten'd ev'ry musk-rose of the dale.
How cam'st thou here, good swain? has any ram
Slipp'd from the fold, or young kid lost his dam,
Or straggling weather the pent flock forsook?
How couldst thou find this dark sequester'd nook?
F. Spi. O my loved 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 pilf'ring 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 oh! my virgin lady! where is she?
How chance she is not in your company?
E. Bro. To tell thee sadly, shepherd, without

blame

Or our neglect, we lost her as we came.

F. Spi. Ah me! unhappy! then my fears are

true.

E. Bro. What fears, good Thyrsis? pr'ythee briefly shew?

F. Spi. F'll tell ye: 'tis not vain nor fabulous, (Though so esteem'd by shallow ignorance) What the sage poets, taught by th' heav'nly Muse, Story'd 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.

VOL. II

E. Bro. Proceed, good shepherd; I am all attention.

F. Spi. 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 wanton as his father;

And here to ev'ry thirsty wanderer

By sly enticements gives his baneful cup,
With many murmurs mix'd, whose pleasing poison
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
Tending my flock hard by, i' th' hilly crofts
That brow this bottom glade, whence night by
night

He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl
Like stabled wolves, or tygers at their prey,
Doing abhorred rites to Hecate

In their obscured haunts and inmost bow'rs.
Yet have they many baits and guileful spells,
And beauty's tempting semblance can put on,
T' inveigle and invite th' unwary sense
Of them that pass unweeting by the way.
But hark! the beaten timbrels jarring sound
And wild tumultuous mirth proclaim their pre-

sence:

Onward they move, and see! a blazing torch Gleams through the shade, and this way guides their steps.

Let us withdraw a while, and watch their motions. [They retire.

Enter COMUS's Crew revelling, and by turns caressing each other, till they observe the Two Brothers; then the Elder Brother advances and speaks.

E. Bro. What are you, speak, that thus in wanton riot

And midnight revelry, like drunken bacchanals, Invade the silence of these lonely shades?

F. Wom. Ye godlike youths whose radiant
forms excel

The blooming grace of Maia's winged son,
Bless the propitious star that led you to us:
We are the happiest of the race of mortals,
Of freedom, mirth, and joy, the only heirs:
But you shall share them with us; for this cup,
This nectar'd cup, the sweet assurance gives
Of present and the pledge of future bliss.
[She offers them the cup, which they both put by.

SONG. By a Man.

By the gayly circling glass
We can see how minutes pass,
By the hollow cask are told
How the waining night grows old.
Soon, too soon, the busy day
Drives us from our sport and play:
What have we with day to do?
Sons of Care, 'twas made for you.

E. Bro. Forbear, nor offer us the poison'd

sweets

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