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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-consum'd; If this fail,
The pillar'd firmament is rottenness,
And earth's base built on stubble. But come,
Spirit. Alas! good venturous Youth,
I love thy courage yet, and bold emprise;
Elder Brother. Why pr'ythee, Shepherd,
How durst thou then thyself approach so near,
As to make this relation?
Spirit. Care, and utmost shifts,
How to secure the lady from surprisal,
But now I find it true; for by this means
1 knew the foul enchanter though disguis'd,
Entered 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
Boldly assault the necromancer's hall;
Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood,
And brandish'd blade, rush on him; break his glass
And shed the luscious liquour on the ground,
But seise his wand; though he and his curs'd crew
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.
Elder Brother. 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 musick, 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.
Lady. Fool, do not boast;
Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind With all thy charms, although this corporal rind Thou hast immanacled, while Heaven sees good.
Camus. 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. 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 Holena, It 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 For gentle usage and soft delicacy? But you invert the covenants of her trust, And harshly deal, like an ill borrower, With that which you receiv'd on other terms; Scorning the unexempt condition, By which all mortal frailty must subsist, Refreshment after toil, ease after pain, That have been tir'd all day without repast,
And timely rest have wanted; but, fair Virgin,
Lady. 'Twill not, false traitor!
'Twill not restore the truth and honesty,
Comns. O foolishness of men! that lend their
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