ACT I.

SCENE I.-A Wood.

Enter Spirit.

Spi. Before the starry threshold of Jove's court
My mansion is, where those immortal shapes
Of bright aerial spirits live inspher'd
Ia regions wild, of calm and serene air,
Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot,

Which men call earth; and with low-thoughted care
Confin'd and pester'd to this pinfold here,
Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being,
Unmindful of the crown that virtue gives,
After this mortal change, to her true servants,
Amongst th' enthron'd gods on sainted seats.
But, to my task.

Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape
Crush'd the sweet poison of misused wine,

On Circe's island fell: this nymph had by him a son,
Much like his father, but his mother more,

Whom therefore she brought up, and Comus nam'd;
Who, in thick shelter of these shades embower'd,
Excels his mother at her mighty art,
Offering to ev'ry traveller

His orient liquor in a crystal glass.

Soon as the potion works, their human countenance
Is chang'd into some brutish form, and they
Not once perceive their foul disfigurement.
Therefore, when any favour'd of high Jove,
Chances to pass through this adventurous glade,
I shoot from heav'n, to give him safe convoy.
But first, I take the likeness of a swain,
And bark! I hear the tread of hateful steps. [Exit.

Enter COMUS, with a rout of Men and Women,
dressed as Bacchanals.

Com. 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 toward the other goal
Of his chamber in the east;
Meanwhile welcome joy and feast!

AIR.-By a Bacchanal.

Now Phoebus sinketh in the west,
Welcome song, and welcome jest,
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 scrup'lous head,
Strict age, and sour severity,

With their grave saws to slumber lie.
Com. We that are of purer fire,
Imitate the starry choir;

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 wav'ring morris move;
And on the tawny sands and shelves
Trip the pert fairies, and the dapper elves.

AIR.-By a Bacchante.

By dimpl'd 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.

Com. Hail, goddess of nocturnal sport! Stay thy cloudy ebon chair,

Wherein thou rid'st with Hecate, and befriend
Us, thy vow'd priests!

Till the nice morn on th' Indian steep
From her cabin loophole peep,

And to the tell-tale sun descry

Our conceal'd solemnity.

DUETT.-By a Man and Woman.
From tyrant laws and customs free,
We follow sweet variety;

By turns we drink, and dance, and sing,
Time 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.

Com. Come; knit hands and beat the ground In a light fantastic round.

(A Dance.)
Break off, break off: I feel the diff'rent pace
Of some chaste footing near about this ground,
Run to your shrouds, within these brakes and trees;
Our number may affright. [Exeunt all but Comus.
Some virgin sure

(For so I can distinguish by my art,)
Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms,
And to my wily trains! Thus I hurl
My spells into the air. When once her eye
Hath met the virtue of this magic dust,
I shall appear some harmless villager.
But see, she stops, and seems

As she'd address herself in song.

AIR.-By a Lady behind.

Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen
Within thy airy cell,

By slow meander's murgent green,

And in the violet-embroider'd vale,

Where the love-lorn nightingale

Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well! Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair,

That likest thy Narcissus are?

O! if thou have

Hid them in some flow'ry cave,
Tell me but where,

Sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere;
So may'st thou be translated to the skies,
And give resounding grace to all heav'n's harmonies!
Com. Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould
Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?
But see, she approaches; I step aside
And hearken, if I may her business hear.
Enter Lady.

Lady. This way the noise was, if mine ear be true, My best guide now; methought it was the sound Of riot and ill-manag'd mirth. I should be loth To meet the rudeness, and swill'd insolence Of such late rioters; yet O! where else Shall I inform my unacquainted feet In the blind mazes of this tangled wood? Com. I'll ease her of that care, and be her guide. (Aside.) Lady. My brothers, when they saw me weary'd out, Stepp'd, as they said, to the next thicket side, To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit, As the kind hospitable woods provide. 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: I cannot halloo to my brothers, but Such noise as I could make to be heard furthest I have ventur'd; for my new enliven'd spirits Prompt me: and they perhaps are not far off. Com. 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 syrens three,
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. (Aside.) Hail, foreign
wonder,

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, To seek i'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. 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 furrows came,
And the swink't 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 fairy vision

Of some gay creatures of the element,
That in the colours of the rainbow live,
And play i'th' plaited 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.

way

Lady. Gentle villager, what readiest would Me to that place? [bring Com. I know each lane, and ev'ry alley green, Dingle, or bushy dell of this wild wood. My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood; And if your stray attendance be yet lodg'd, Or shroud within these limits, I shall know Ere morrow wake, or the low roosted lark From her thatch'd pillow rouse; or grant it other I can conduct yon, lady, to a low, [wise, But loyal cottage, where you may be safe till further quest.

Lady. Shepherd, I take thy word, And trust thy offer'd service. 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 on.

[Exeunt.

Enter Comus's Crew from behind the trees.
AIR.-By a Man.

Fly swiftly, ye minutes, till Comus receive
The nameless soft transports that beauty can give;

moon,

That wont'st to love the trav'ller's benison,
Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud,
And disinherit chaos, that reigns here
In double night of darkness and of shades.
Y. Bro. Or, if our eyes

Be barr'd that happiness, might we but know
The sound of past'ral reed with oaten stops,
Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock,
'Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering,
In this close dungeon of innum'rous boughs.
But O, that hapless virgin, our lost sister!
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;
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?
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.
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 is his own dungeon.

Y. Bro. 'Tis most true,
That musing meditation most affects
The pensive secrecy of desert cell,

Far from the cheerful baunt of men and herds,
And sits as safe as in a senate house;
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.

E. Bro. My sister is not so defenceless left
As you imagine; she has a hidden strength,
Which you remember not.

Y. Bro. What hidden strength?

E. Bro. "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 unbarbour'd heaths, Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds. So dear to heav'n 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 turns it by degrees to the soul's essence,
Till all be made immortal. (A halloo heard.)

List, list; I hear

Some far-off halloo break the silent air.

Y. Bro. Methought so too; what should it be? E. Bro. Either some one like us night-founder'd

here,

Or else some neighbour woodman, or at worst, Some roving robber calling to his fellows.

Y. Bro. Heav'n keep my sister! (Halloo.)
Again! again! and near!

Best draw, and stand upon our guard.
E. Bro. I'll halloo;

If he be friendly, he comes well; if not,
Defence is a good cause, and heav'n be for us.
Enter the Spirit, habited like a Shepherd.
Y. Bro. That halloo I should know-What are
you? speak.
[again.
Spi. What voice is that? My young lord? Speak
Y. Bro. O brother, 'tis my father's shepherd,

sure.

Spi. O, my lov'd master's heir, and his next joy, Where is my virgin lady? where is she? How chance she is not in your company? [blame, E. Bro. To tell thee sadly, shepherd, without Or our neglect, we lost her as we came.

Spi. Ah me unhappy! then my fears are true. E. Bro. What fears, good Thyrsis? pr'ythee, briefly shew.

Spi. Within the bosom of this hideous wood, Immur'd in cypress shades, a sorc'rer dwells, Of Bacchus and of Circe born; great Comus, Deep skill'd in all his mother's witcheries, And wanton as his father. This I learn'd Tending my flocks hard by ; whence, night by night, He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl; Yet have they many baits and guileful spells, T'inveigle and invite th' unwary sense.

(A loud laugh.)

But hark! the beaten timbrel's jarring sound,
And wild tumultuous mirth,proclaim their presence
Onward they move; and this way guide their steps.
Let us withdraw awhile!
(They retire.)

Enter Comus's Crew, revelling; 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?

1 Wom. Ye godlike youths,

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.
AIR.-By a Man.
By the gayly circling glass
We can see how minutes pass;
By the hollow cask are told
How the waning 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.

(A female offers the cup, which they both put by.) E. Bro. Forbear, nor offer us the poison'd sweets. 1 Wom. Oh! how unseemly shews in blooming

youth

Such grey severity! But come with us;

We to the bow'r of bliss will guide your steps.

AIR.

Would you taste the noontide air?
To yon fragrant bow'r repair,
Where, woven with the poplar bough,
The mantling vine will shelter you.
Down each side a fountain flows,
Tinkling, murm'ring, as it goes
Lightly o'er the mossy ground,
Sultry Phoebus scorching round.
Round the languid herds and sheep
Stretch'd o'er sunny hillocks sleep,

Man.

Jealous,

Assail us?

Wom. Can any harm assail us, my shepherd of the

grove? [love? Man. Can any harm assail us, my rural queen of Wom. Feel how my heart is beating, my shepherd of the grove. [of love. Man. The pulse of life retreating, my rural queen The pulse of life retreating,

Wom. My shepherd of the grove. Man. Thus love's sweet poison drinking, Wom. Dear idol of my love. E. Bro. From virtue sever'd, pleasure frenzy And always flies at reason's cool return. But we forget; who hears the voice of truth, In noisy riot and intemp'rance drown'd? Thyrsis, be thou our guide! We'll follow thee; And some good angel bear a shield before us!

[grows,

[Exeunt Brothers and Spirit.

1 Wom. Come, come, my friends, and partners of my joys,

Leave to yon pedant youths their bookish dreams; A beardless Cynic is the shame of nature,

Beyond the cure of this inspiring cup;

Away, nor waste a moment more about 'em.

CHORUS.

Away, away, away,

To Comus' court repair;

There night outshines the day,

There yields the melting fair. [Exeunt.
ACT II.

SCENE I-A gay Pavilion.

COMUS and Attendants on each side of the Lady, who is seated in an enchanted chair.

Com. Come, thou goddess fair and free, In heav'n yclep'd Euphrosyne,

And by men heart-easing mirth,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth,
With two sister graces more,
To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore!
Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee
Jest, and youthful jollity,

Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport, that wrinkled care derides;
And laughter, holding both his sides!
Come, and trip it as you go,
On the light fantastic toe:
And in thy right hand lead with thee,
The mountain nymph, sweet liberty.

AIR.-By a Man.

Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee,
Jest and youthful jollity,

Quips and cranks and wanton wiles,
Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport, that wrinkled care derides;
And laughter, holding both his sides!
Cho. Haste thee, nymph, &c.

Enter EUPHROSYNE.
AIR.-EUPHROSYNE.
Come, come, bid adieu to fear!
Love and harmony reign here.
No domestic, jealous jars,
Buzzing slanders, wordy wars,
In our presence will appear;
Love and harmony reign here.

Sighs to am'rous sighs returning,
Pulses beating, bosoms burning;
Bosoms with warm wishes panting,
Words to speak those wishes wanting,
Are the only tumults here,
All the woes you need to fear;

Love and harmony reign here.

Lady. How long must I, by magic fetters chain'd To this detested seat, hear odious strains Of shameless folly which my soul abhors?

And breathe the pleasing pangs of gentle love. Com. Now softly slow sweet Lydian airs attune, (A Pastoral Nymph advances slowly, with a me

lancholy and desponding air, and repeats, by way
of soliloquy, the first six lines, and then sings the
Ballad. She is observed by Euphrosyne, who,
by her gestures, expresses her different senti-
ments of the subject of her complaint, suitably to
the character of their several Songs.

RECITATIVE.-Pastoral Nymph.
How gentle was my Damon's air!
Like sunny beams his golden hair;
His voice was like the nightingale's,
More sweet his breath than flow'ry vales,
How hard such beauties to resign!
And yet that cruel task is mine.
AIR.

On ev'ry hill, in ev'ry grove,

Along the margin of each stream,
Dear conscious scenes of formal love,
I mourn, and Damon is my theme.
The hills, the groves, the streams remain,
But Damon there I seek in vain.

From hill, from dale, each charm is fled;
Groves, flocks, and fountains please no more;
Each flower in pity droops its head,

All nature does my loss deplore.
All, all reproach the faithless swain,
Yet Damon still I seek in vain.

RECITATIVE.-EUPHROSYNE. Love, the greatest bliss below, How to taste few women know; Fewer still the way have hit How a fickle swain to quit. Simple nymph, then learn of me How to treat inconstancy.

AIR.

The wanton god, that pierces hearts,
Dips in gall his pointed darts:
But the nymph disdains to pine,
Who bathes the wound with rosy wine.
Farewell lovers when they're cloy'd;
If I am scorn'd because enjoy'd,
Sure the squeamish fops are free
To rid me of dull company.

They have charms, whilst mine can please;

I love them much, but more my ease;

Nor jealous fears my love molest,

Nor faithless vows shall break my rest.

Why should they ever give me pain,
Who to give me joy disdain?

All I ask of mortal man,

Is love to me, whilst he can.

If short my span, 1 less can spare
To pass a single pleasure by;
An hour is long, if lost in care,

They only live who life enjoy.

Com. List, lady; be not coy, and be not cozen'd With that same vaunted name, virginity. What need a vermeil tinctur'd lip for that, Love darting eyes, or tresses like the morn? There was another meaning in these gifts; Think what, and be advis'd; you are but young yet; This will inform you soon. One sip of this Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight, Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise and taste. Enter the Brothers, with their swords drawn, who wrest the glass out of Comus's hand, and break it against the ground; he and his rout are all driven out: after which the Spirit enters.

Spi. What,have you let the false enchanter 'scape? O, ve mistook! you should have snatch'd his wand, And bound him fast; without his rod revers'd, We cannot free the lady, that sits here

In stony fetters fix'd, and motionless.

Yet stay, be not disturb'd; now I bethink me,
There is a gentle nymph not far from hence,
Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure,

Com. Cast thine eyes around, and see

How from every element

Nature's sweets are cull'd from thee,

And her choicest blessings sent.

Hither summer, autumn, spring, Hither all your tributes bring; All on bended knee be seen, Paying homage to your queen!

(The Lady attempts to rise.)

Nay, lady, sit; if I but wave this wand,
Your nerves are all bound up in alabaster,
And you a statue.

my

mind

Lady. Fool, do not boast; Thou canst not touch the freedom of With all thy charms, although this corp'ral 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: And first behold this cordial julap here, That flames and dances in his crystal bounds! Lady. Know, base deluder, that I will not taste it. Keep thy detested gifts for such as these.

(Points to his crew.)
Com. Why should you be so cruel to yourself,
And to those dainty limbs, which nature lent
For gentle usage and soft delicacy;

That have been tir'd all day without repast,
And timely rest have wanted? But, fair virgin,
This will restore all soon.

Lady. "Twill not, false traitor!

Twill not restore the truth and honesty

That thou hast banish'd from thy tongue with lies.
Was this the cottage, and the safe abode [ments!
Thou told'st me of? Hence with thy brew'd enchant-
Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets
I would not taste thy treas'nous offer. None,
But such as are good men, can give good things;
And that which is not good is not delicious
To a well-govern'd and wise appetite.
Shall I go on, or have I said enough?

Com. Enough to shew

That your are cheated by the lying boasts
Of starving pedants, that affect a fame

From scorning pleasures which they cannot reach.
AIR.-By a Bacchante.

Preach not to me your musty rules,

Ye drones that mould in idle cell!
The heart is wiser than the schools,
The senses always reason well.

The clasping charm, and thaw the numbing spell,

If she be right invok'd in warbling song.

Sabrina, goddess dear!

We implore thy powerful aid
To undo the charmed band

Of true virgin here distress'd,

Through the force and through the wilt
Of unblest enchanter vile.

SABRINA rises.
RECITATIVE.-SABRINA.
Shepherd, 'tis my office best
To help ensnared chastity;
Brightest lady, look on me.

Thus I sprinkle on thy breast
Drops, that from my fountain pure
I have kept of precious cure;
Thrice upon thy finger's tip,
Thrice upon thy rabied lip;
Next this marble venom'd seat,
Smear'd with gums of glut'nous heat,
I touch with chaste palms, moist and cold:
Now the spell hath lost its hold;

And must haste, ere morning hour,
To wait in Amphitrite's bower.
(Sabrina descends, and the Lady rises out of her
seat; the Brothers embrace her tenderly.)
E. Bro. Inform us, Thyrsis, if for this thine aid
We aught can pay, that equals thy desert.
Spi. (Discovering himself.) Pay it to heaven!
There my mansion is.
RECITATIVE.-Spirit.

Now my task is smoothly done,
I can fly, or I can run

Quickly to the green carth's end,

Where the bow'd welkin slow doth bend;
And from thence can soar as soon,
To the corners of the moon.