The Poetical Works of John Milton

                             JUSTA
                         EDOVARDO KING
                           naufrago,
                               ab
                      Amicis Moerentibus,
                             amoris
                               &
                         mneias chaein
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         Sirecte calculam ponas, ubique naufragium est.
                           Pet. Arb.
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                         CANTABRIGIAE:
        Apud Thomam Buck, & Rogerum Daniel, celeberrimae
                 Academiae typographos.  1638.

  In this Monody the Author bewails a learned Friend,
  unfortunatly drown'd in his Passage from Chester on the Irish
  Seas, 1637.  And by occasion foretels the ruine of our
  corrupted Clergy then in their height.

  YET once more, O ye Laurels, and once more
  Ye Myrtles brown, with Ivy never-sear,
  I com to pluck your Berries harsh and crude,
  And with forc'd fingers rude,
  Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.
  Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear,
  Compels me to disturb your season due:
  For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime
  Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer:
  Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew
  Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.                          10
  He must not flote upon his watry bear
  Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,
  Without the meed of som melodious tear.

  Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well,
  That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring,
  Begin, and somwhat loudly sweep the string.
  Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse,
  So may som gentle Muse
  With lucky words favour my destin'd Urn,                             20
  And as he passes turn,
  And bid fair peace be to my sable shrowd.
  For we were nurst upon the self-same hill,
  Fed the same flock by fountain, shade, and rill.

  Together both, ere the high Lawns appear'd
  Under the opening eye-lids of the morn,
  We drove a field and both together heard
  What time the Gray-fly winds her sultry horn,
  Batt'ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night,
  Oft till the Star that rose, at Ev'ning, bright                      30
  Toward Heav'ns descent had slop'd his westering wheel.
  Mean while the Rural ditties were not mute,
  Temper'd to th'Oaten Flute;
  Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fauns with clov'n heel,
  From the glad sound would not be absent long,
  And old Damoetas lov'd to hear our song.

  But O the heavy change, now thou art gon,
  Now thou art gon, and never must return!
  Thee Shepherd, thee the Woods, and desert Caves,
  With wilde Thyme and the gadding Vine o'regrown,                     40
  And all their echoes mourn.
  The Willows, and the Hazle Copses green,
  Shall now no more be seen,
  Fanning their joyous Leaves to thy soft layes.
  As killing as the Canker to the Rose,
  Or Taint-worm to the weanling Herds that graze,
  Or Frost to Flowers, that their gay wardrop wear,
  When first the White thorn blows;
  Such, Lycidas, thy loss to Shepherds ear.

  Where were ye Nymphs when the remorseless deep                       50
  Clos'd o're the head of your lov'd Lycidas?
  For neither were ye playing on the steep,
  Where your old Bards, the famous Druids ly,
  Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,
  Nor yet where Deva spreads her wisard stream:
  Ay me, I fondly dream!
  Had ye bin there—for what could that have don?
  What could the Muse her self that Orpheus bore,
  The Muse her self, for her inchanting son
  Whom Universal nature did lament,                                    60
  When by the rout that made the hideous roar,
  His goary visage down the stream was sent,
  Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore.

  Alas! What boots it with uncessant care
  To tend the homely slighted Shepherds trade,
  And strictly meditate the thankles Muse,
  Were it not better don as others use,
  To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,
  Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair?
  Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise                    70
  (That last infirmity of Noble mind)
  To scorn delights, and live laborious dayes:
  But the fair Guerdon when we hope to find,
  And think to burst out into sudden blaze.
  Comes the blind Fury with th'abhorred shears,
  And slits the thin spun life.  But not the praise,
  Phoebus repli'd, and touch'd my trembling ears;
  Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,
  Nor in the glistering foil
  Set off to th'world, nor in broad rumour lies,                       80
  But lives and spreds aloft by those pure eyes,
  And perfet witnes of all judging Jove;
  As he pronounces lastly on each deed,
  Of so much fame in Heav'n expect thy meed.

  O Fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd floud,
  Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd with vocall reeds,
  That strain I heard was of a higher mood:
  But now my Oate proceeds,
  And listens to the Herald of the Sea
  That came in Neptune's plea,                                         90
  He ask'd the Waves, and ask'd the Fellon winds,
  What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain?
  And question'd every gust of rugged wings
  That blows from off each beaked Promontory,
  They knew not of his story,
  And sage Hippotades their answer brings,
  That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd,
  The Ayr was calm, and on the level brine,
  Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd.
  It was that fatall and perfidious Bark                              100
  Built in th'eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark,
  That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.

  Next Camus, reverend Sire, went footing slow,
  His Mantle hairy, and his Bonnet sedge,
  Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge
  Like to that sanguine flower inscrib'd with woe.
  Ah; Who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge?
  Last came, and last did go,
  The Pilot of the Galilean lake,
  Two massy Keyes he bore of metals twain,                            110
  (The Golden opes, the Iron shuts amain)
  He shook his Miter'd locks, and stern bespake,
  How well could I have spar'd for thee, young swain,
  Anow of such as for their bellies sake,
  Creep and intrude, and climb into the fold?
  Of other care they little reck'ning make,
  Then how to scramble at the shearers feast,
  And shove away the worthy bidden guest.
  Blind mouthes! that scarce themselves know how to hold
  A Sheep-hook, or have learn'd ought els the least                   120
  That to the faithfull Herdmans art belongs!
  What recks it them? What need they? They are sped;
  And when they list, their lean and flashy songs
  Grate on their scrannel Pipes of wretched straw,
  The hungry Sheep look up, and are not fed,
  But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw,
  Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread:
  Besides what the grim Woolf with privy paw
  Daily devours apace, and nothing sed,
  But that two-handed engine at the door,                             130
  Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.

  Return Alpheus, the dread voice is past,
  That shrunk thy streams; Return Sicilian Muse,
  And call the Vales, and bid them hither cast
  Their Bels, and Flourets of a thousand hues.
  Ye valleys low where the milde whispers use,
  Of shades and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,
  On whose fresh lap the swart Star sparely looks,
  Throw hither all your quaint enameld eyes,
  That on the green terf suck the honied showres,                     140
  And purple all the ground with vernal flowres.
  Bring the rathe Primrose that forsaken dies.
  The tufted Crow-toe, and pale Gessamine,
  The white Pink, and the Pansie freakt with jeat,
  The glowing Violet.
  The Musk-rose, and the well attir'd Woodbine.
  With Cowslips wan that hang the pensive hed,
  And every flower that sad embroidery wears:
  Bid Amaranthus all his beauty shed,
  And daffadillies fill their cups with tears,                            150
  And strew the Laureat Herse where Lycid lies.
  For so to interpose a little ease,
  Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.
  Ah me! Whilst thee the shores, and sounding Seas
  Wash far away, where ere thy bones are hurl'd
  Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides.
  Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide
  Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world;
  Or whether thou to our moist vows deny'd,
  Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old,                              160
  Where the great vision of the guarded Mount
  Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold;
  Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth.
  And, O ye Dolphins, waft the haples youth.

  Weep no more, woful Shepherds weep no more,
  For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead,
  Sunk though he be beneath the watry floar,
  So sinks the day-star in the Ocean bed,
  And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
  And tricks his beams, and with new spangled Ore,                    170
  Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:
  So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,
  Through the dear might of him that walk'd the waves
  Where other groves, and other streams along,
  With Nectar pure his oozy Lock's he laves,
  And hears the unexpressive nuptiall Song,
  In the blest Kingdoms meek of joy and love.
  There entertain him all the Saints above,
  In solemn troops, and sweet Societies
  That sing, and singing in their glory move,                         180
  And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
  Now Lycidas the Shepherds weep no more;
  Hence forth thou art the Genius of the shore,
  In thy large recompense and shalt be good
  To all that wander in that perilous flood.

  Thus sang the uncouth Swain to th'Okes and rills,
  While the still morn went out with Sandals gray,
  He touch'd the tender stops of various Quills,
  With eager thought warbling his Dorick lay:
  And now the Sun had stretch'd out all the hills,                    190
  And now was dropt into the Western bay;
  At last he rose, and twitch'd his Mantle blew:
  To morrow to fresh Woods, and Pastures new.

  Notes:
   64  uncessant] Manuscript reads incessant, so that uncessant
  is probably a misprint; though that spelling is retained in the Second
  Edition.
   82  perfet] So in Comus, line 203. In both these places
  the manuscript has perfect, as elsewhere where the word occurs. In
  the Solemn Music, line 23, where the First Edition reads perfect,
  the second reads perfet.
  149 Amaranthus] Amarantus

                            A MASKE
                           PRESENTED
                       At Ludlow Castle,
                             1634:

                On Michalemasse night, before the
                        RIGHT HONORABLE,
          IOHN Earle of Bridgewater, Viscount Brackly,
              Lord President of WALES, and one of
                 His MAIESTIES most honorable
                        Privie Counsell.

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     Eheu quid volui misero mihi! floribus austrum
     Perditus —————————
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                            LONDON
                 Printed for HYMPHREY ROBINSON
             at the signe of the Three Pidgeons in
                   Pauls Church-yard.  1637.

To the Right Honourable, John Lord Vicount Bracly, Son and
  Heir apparent to the Earl of Bridgewater, &c.

  My LORD,

  This Poem, which receiv'd its first occasion of Birth from your
  Self, and others of your Noble Family, and much honour from
  your own Person in the performance, now returns again to
  make a finall Dedication of it self to you.  Although not openly
  acknowledg'd by the Author, yet it is a legitimate off-spring, so
  lovely, and so much desired, that the often Copying of it hath
  tired my Pen to give my several friends satisfaction, and brought
  me to a necessity of producing it to the publike view; and now
  to offer it up in all rightfull devotion to those fair Hopes, and
  rare endowments of your much-promising Youth, which give a
  full assurance, to all that know you, of a future excellence.  Live
  sweet Lord to be the honour of your Name, and receive this as
  your own, from the hands of him, who hath by many favours
  been long oblig'd to your most honour'd Parents, and as in this
  representation your attendant Thyrsis, so now in all reall
  expression

  Your faithfull, and most humble Servant

  H. LAWES.

  Note: Dedication to Vicount Bracly: Omitted in 1673.

The Copy of a Letter writt'n by Sir HENRY WOOTTON, to
  the Author, upon the following Poem.

  From the Colledge, this 13. of April, 1638.

  SIR,
  It was a special favour, when you lately bestowed upon me
  here, the first taste of your acquaintance, though no longer then
  to make me know that I wanted more time to value it, and  to
  enjoy it rightly; and in truth, if  I could then have imagined your
  farther stay in these parts, which I understood afterwards by
  Mr. H. I would have been bold in our vulgar phrase to mend my
  draught (for you left me with an extreme thirst) and to have
  begged your conversation again, joyntly with your said learned
  Friend, at a poor meal or two, that we might have banded
  together som good Authors of the antient time: Among which, I
  observed you to have been familiar.

  Since your going, you have charg'd me with new Obligations,
  both for a very kinde Letter from you dated the sixth of this
  Month, and for a dainty peece of entertainment which came
  therwith.  Wherin I should much commend the Tragical part, if
  the Lyrical did not ravish me with a certain Dorique delicacy in
  your Songs and Odes, wherunto I must plainly confess to have
  seen yet nothing parallel in our Language: Ipsa mollities.
  But I must not omit to tell you, that I now onely owe you
  thanks for intimating unto me (how modestly soever) the true
  Artificer. For the work it self I had view'd som good while
  before, with singular delight, having receiv'd it from our
  common Friend Mr. R. in the very close of the late R's Poems,
  Printed at Oxford, wherunto it was added (as I now suppose)
  that the Accessory might help out the Principal, according to
  the Art of Stationers, and to leave the Reader Con la bocca
  dolce.

  Now Sir, concerning your travels, wherin I may challenge a
  little more priviledge of Discours with you; I suppose you will
  not blanch Paris in your way; therfore I have been bold to
  trouble you with a few lines to Mr. M. B. whom you shall easily
  find attending the young Lord S. as his Governour, and you
  may surely receive from him good directions for the shaping of
  your farther journey into Italy, where he did reside by my choice
  som time for the King, after mine own recess from Venice.

  I should think that your best Line will be thorow the whole
  length of France to Marseilles, and thence by Sea to Genoa,
  whence the passage into Tuscany is as Diurnal as a Gravesend
  Barge: I hasten as you do to Florence, or Siena, the rather to tell
  you a short story from the interest you have given me in your
  safety.

  At Siena I was tabled in the House of one Alberto Scipioni, an
  old Roman Courtier in dangerous times, having bin Steward to
  the Duca di Pagliano, who with all his Family were strangled
  save this onely man that escap'd by foresight of the Tempest:
  With him I  had often much chat of those affairs; Into which he
  took pleasure to look back from his Native Harbour: and at my
  departure toward Rome (which had been the center of    his
  experience) I had wonn confidence enough to beg his advice,
  how I might carry my self securely there, without offence of
  mine own conscience.  Signor Arrigo mio (sayes he) I pensieri
  stretti, & il viso sciolto, will go safely over the whole World: Of
  which Delphian Oracle (for so I have found it) your judgement
  doth need no commentary; and therfore (Sir) I will commit you
  with it to the best of all securities, Gods dear love, remaining

  Your Friend as much at command as any of longer date,

  Henry Wootton.

  Postscript.

  SIR, I have expressly sent this my Foot-boy to prevent your
  departure without som acknowledgement from me of the
  receipt of your obliging Letter, having myself through som
  busines, I know not how, neglected the ordinary conveyance.
  In any part where I shall understand you fixed, I shall be glad,
  and diligent to entertain you with Home-Novelties; even for
  som fomentation of our friendship, too soon interrupted in the
  Cradle.

  Note: Letter from Sir Henry Wootton: Omitted in 1673

  The Persons.

  The attendant Spirit afterwards in the habit of Thyrsis.
  Comus with his crew.
  The Lady.
  1. Brother.
  2. Brother.
  Sabrina the Nymph.

  The cheif persons which presented, were
  The Lord Bracly.
  Mr. Thomas Egerton his Brother,
  The Lady Alice Egerton.

  The first Scene discovers a wilde Wood.

  The attendant Spirit descends or enters.

  Spir: Before the starry threshold of Joves Court
  My mansion is, where those immortal shapes
  Of bright aereal Spirits live insphear'd
  In Regions milde of calm and serene Ayr,
  Above the smoak and stirr of this dim spot,
  Which men call Earth, and with low-thoughted care
  Confin'd, and pester'd in this pin-fold here,
  Strive to keep up a frail, and Feaverish being
  Unmindfull of the crown that Vertue gives
  After this mortal change, to her true Servants                       10
  Amongst the enthron'd gods on Sainted seats.
  Yet some there be that by due steps aspire
  To lay their just hands on that Golden Key
  That ope's the Palace of Eternity:
  To such my errand is, and but for such,
  I would not soil these pure Ambrosial weeds,
  With the rank vapours of this Sin-worn mould.
  But to my task.  Neptune besides the sway
  Of every salt Flood, and each ebbing Stream,
  Took in by lot 'twixt high, and neather Jove,                        20
  Imperial rule of all the Sea-girt Iles
  That like to rich, and various gemms inlay
  The unadorned boosom of the Deep,
  Which he to grace his tributary gods
  By course commits to severall government,
  And gives them leave to wear their Saphire crowns,
  And weild their little tridents, but this Ile
  The greatest, and the best of all the main
  He quarters to his blu-hair'd deities,
  And all this tract that fronts the falling Sun                       30
  A noble Peer of mickle trust, and power
  Has in his charge, with temper'd awe to guide
  An old, and haughty Nation proud in Arms:
  Where his fair off-spring nurs't in Princely lore,
  Are coming to attend their Fathers state,
  And new-entrusted Scepter, but their way
  Lies through the perplex't paths of this drear Wood,
  The nodding horror of whose shady brows
  Threats the forlorn and wandring Passinger.
  And here their tender age might suffer perill,                       40
  But that by quick command from Soveran Jove
  I was dispatcht for their defence, and guard;
  And listen why, for I will tell ye now
  What never yet was heard in Tale or Song
  From old, or modern Bard in Hall, or Bowr.
  Bacchus that first from out the purple Grape,
  Crush't the sweet poyson of mis-used Wine
  After the Tuscan Mariners transform'd
  Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed,
  On Circes Iland fell (who knows not Circe                             50
  The daughter of the Sun?  Whose charmed Cup
  Whoever tasted, lost his upright shape,
  And downward fell into a groveling Swine)
  This Nymph that gaz'd upon his clustring locks,
  With Ivy berries wreath'd, and his blithe youth,
  Had by him, ere he parted thence, a Son
  Much like his Father, but his Mother more,
  Whom therfore she brought up and Comus named,
  Who ripe, and frolick of his full grown age,
  Roving the Celtic, and Iberian fields,                               60
  At last betakes him to this ominous Wood,
  And in thick shelter of black shades imbowr'd,
  Excells his Mother at her mighty Art,
  Offring to every weary Travailer,
  His orient liquor in a Crystal Glasse,
  To quench the drouth of Phoebus, which as they taste
  (For most do taste through fond intemperate thirst )
  Soon as the Potion works,  their human count'nance,
  Th' express resemblance of the gods, is chang'd
  Into som brutish form of Woolf, or Bear,                             70
  Or Ounce, or Tiger, Hog, or bearded Goat,
  All other parts remaining as they were,
  And they, so perfect is their misery,
  Not once perceive their foul disfigurement,
  But boast themselves more comely then before
  And all their friends, and native home forget
  To roule with pleasure in a sensual stie.
  Therfore when any favour'd of high Jove,
  Chances to pass through this adventrous glade,
  Swift as the Sparkle of a glancing Star,                             80
  I shoot from Heav'n to give him safe convoy,
  As now I do: But first I must put off
  These my skie robes spun out of Iris Wooff,
  And take the Weeds and likenes 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 wilde winds when they roar,
  And hush the waving Woods, nor of lesse faith,
  And in this office of his Mountain watch,
  Likeliest, and neerest to the present ayd                            90
  Of this occasion.  But I hear the tread
  Of hatefull steps, I must be viewles 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 wilde Beasts, but otherwise like Men and Women, their
  Apparel glistring, they come in making a riotous and unruly
  noise, with Torches in their hands.

  Co: The Star that bids the Shepherd fold,
  Now the top of Heav'n doth hold,
  And the gilded Car of Day,
  His glowing Axle doth allay
  In the steep Atlantick stream,
  And the slope Sun his upward beam
  Shoots against the dusky Pole,
  Pacing toward the other gole                                        100
  Of his Chamber in the East.
  Meanwhile welcom Joy, and Feast,
  Midnight shout, and revelry,
  Tipsie dance, and Jollity.
  Braid your Locks with rosie Twine
  Dropping odours, dropping Wine.
  Rigor now is gon to bed,
  And Advice with scrupulous head,
  Strict Age, and sowre Severity,
  With their grave Saws in slumber ly.                               110
  We that are of purer fire
  Imitate the Starry Quire,
  Who in their nightly watchfull Sphears,
  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 Fairies and the dapper Elves;
  By dimpled Brook, and Fountain brim,
  The Wood-Nymphs deckt with Daisies trim,                            120
  Their merry wakes and pastimes keep:
  What hath night to do with sleep?
  Night hath better sweets to prove,
  Venus now wakes, and wak'ns Love.
  Com let us our rights begin,
  'Tis onely day-light that makes Sin
  Which these dun shades will ne're report.
  Hail Goddesse of Nocturnal sport
  Dark vaild Cotytto, t' whom the secret flame
  Of mid-night Torches burns; mysterious Dame                        130
  That ne're art call'd, but when the Dragon woom
  Of Stygian darknes spets her thickest gloom,
  And makes one blot of all the ayr,
  Stay thy cloudy Ebon chair,
  Wherin thou rid'st with Hecat', and befriend
  Us thy vow'd Priests, til 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'd loop hole peep,                                    140
  And to the tel-tale Sun discry
  Our conceal'd Solemnity.
  Com, knit hands, and beat the ground,
  In a light fantastick round.

  The Measure.

  Break off; break off, I feel the different pace,
  Of som chast footing neer about this ground.
  Run to your shrouds, within these Brakes and Trees,
  Our number may affright: Som Virgin sure
  (For so I can distinguish by mine Art)
  Benighted in these Woods.  Now to my charms,                        150
  And to my wily trains, I shall e're long
  Be well stock't with as fair a herd as graz'd
  About my Mother Circe.  Thus I hurl
  My dazling Spells into the spungy ayr,
  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,                             160
  And well plac't words of glozing courtesie
  Baited with reasons not unplausible
  Wind me into the easie-hearted man,
  And hugg him into snares.  When once her eye
  Hath met the vertue of this Magick dust,
  I shall appear som harmles Villager
  Whom thrift keeps up about his Country gear,
  But here she comes, I fairly step aside,
  And hearken, if I may, her busines here.

  The Lady enters.

  La: This way the noise was, if mine ear be true,                    170
  My best guide now, me thought it was the sound
  Of Riot, and ill manag'd Merriment,
  Such as the jocond Flute, or gamesom Pipe
  Stirs up among the loose unleter'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 rudenesse, and swill'd insolence
  of such late Wassailers; yet O where els
  Shall I inform my unacquainted feet                                 180
  In the blind mazes of this tangl'd 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 se'd 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 gray-hooded Eev'n
  Like a sad Votarist in Palmers weed
  Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus wain.                      190
  But where they are, and why they came not back,
  Is now the labour of my thoughts, 'tis likeliest
  They had ingag'd their wandring steps too far,
  And envious darknes, e're they could return,
  Had stole them from me, els O theevish Night
  Why shouldst thou, but for som fellonious end,
  In thy dark lantern thus close up the Stars,
  That nature hung in Heav'n, and fill'd their Lamps
  With everlasting oil, to give due light
  To the misled and lonely Travailer?                                 200
  This is the place as well as I may guess,
  Whence eev'n now the tumult of loud Mirth
  Was rife and perfect in my list'ning ear,
  Yet nought but single darknes do I find.
  What might this be? A thousand fantasies
  Begin to throng into my memory
  Of calling shapes, and beckning shadows dire,
  And airy tongues, that syllable mens names
  On Sands and Shoars and desert Wildernesses.
  These thoughts may startle well, but not astound                    210
  The vertuous mind that ever walks attended
  By a strong siding champion Conscience.—
  O welcom pure-ey'd Faith, white-handed Hope,
  Thou hovering Angel girt with golden wings.
  And thou unblemish't form of Chastity,
  I see ye visibly and now beleeve
  That he, the Supreme good t'whom all things ill
  Are but as slavish  officers of vengeance,
  Would send a glistring Guardian if need were
  To keep my life and honour unassail'd.                              220
  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 casts a gleam over this tufted Grove.
  I cannot hallow to my Brothers, but
  Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest
  Ile venter, for my new enliv'nd spirits
  Prompt me; and they perhaps are not far off.

  SONG.

  Sweet Echo, sweetest Nymph that liv'st unseen                       230
  Within thy airy shell
  By slow Meander's margent green,
  And in the violet imbroider'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 som flowry Cave,
  Tell me but where                                                   240
  Sweet Queen of  Parly, Daughter of the Sphear,
  So maist thou be translated to the skies,
  And give resounding grace to all Heav'ns Harmonies.

  Co: Can any mortal mixture of Earths mould
  Breath such Divine inchanting ravishment?
  Sure somthing holy lodges in that brest,
  And with these raptures moves the vocal air
  To testifie his hidd'n residence;
  How sweetly did they float upon the wings
  Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night                         250
  At every fall smoothing the Raven doune
  Of darknes till it smil'd: I have oft heard
  My mother Circe with the Sirens three,
  Amid'st the flowry-kirtl'd Naiades
  Culling their Potent hearbs, and balefull 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,                      260
  And in sweet madnes rob'd it of it self,
  But such a sacred, and home-felt delight,
  Such sober certainty of waking bliss
  I never heard till now.  Ile speak to her
  And she shall be my Queen.  Hail forren wonder
  Whom certain these rough shades did never breed
  Unlesse the Goddes that in rurall shrine
  Dwell'st here with Pan, or Silvan, by blest Song
  Forbidding every bleak unkindly Fog
  To touch the prosperous growth of this tall Wood.                   270

  La: Nay gentle Shepherd ill is lost that praise
  That is addrest 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 mossie Couch.

  Co: What chance good Lady hath bereft you thus?

  La: Dim darknes, and this heavy Labyrinth.

  Co: Could that divide you from neer-ushering guides?

  La: They left me weary on a grassie terf.                           280

  Co: By falshood, or discourtesie, or why?

  La: To seek in vally som cool friendly Spring.

  Co: And left your fair side all unguarded Lady?

  La: They were but twain, and purpos'd quick return.

  Co: Perhaps fore-stalling night prevented them.

  La: How easie my misfortune is to hit!

  Co:  Imports their loss, beside the present need?

  La:  No less then if I should my brothers loose.

  Co: Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom?

  La:  As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd lips.                      290

  Co: Two such I saw, what time the labour'd Oxe
  In his loose traces from the furrow came,
  And the swink't hedger at his Supper sate;
  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 then human, as they stood;
  I took it for a faery vision
  Of som gay creatures of the element
  That in the colours of the Rainbow live                             300
  And play i'th plighted clouds.  I was aw-strook,
  And as I past, I worshipt: if those you seek
  It were a journey like the path to Heav'n,
  To help you find them.  La:  Gentle villager
  What readiest way would bring me to that place?

  Co:  Due west it rises from this shrubby point.

  La: To find out that, good Shepherd, I suppose,
  In such a scant allowance of Star-light,
  Would overtask the best Land-Pilots art,
  Without the sure guess of well-practiz'd feet,                      310

  Co: I know each lane, and every alley green
  Dingle, or bushy dell of this wilde Wood,
  And every bosky bourn from side to side
  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't pallat rowse, if otherwise
  I can conduct you Lady to a low
  But loyal cottage, where you may be safe                            320
  Till further quest.
                      La: Shepherd I take thy word,
  And trust thy honest offer'd courtesie,
  Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds
  With smoaky rafters, then in tapstry Halls
  And Courts of Princes, where it first was nam'd,
  And yet is most pretended: In a place
  Less warranted then this, or less secure
  I cannot be, that I should fear to change it.
  Eie me blest Providence, and square my triall
  To my proportion'd strength.  Shepherd lead on.—                   330

  The Two Brothers.

  Eld. Bro: Unmuffle ye faint stars, and thou fair Moon
  That wontst to love the travailers benizon,
  Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud,
  And disinherit Chaos, that raigns here
  In double night of darknes, and of shades;
  Or if your influence be quite damm'd up
  With black usurping mists, som gentle taper
  Though a rush Candle from the wicker hole
  Of som clay habitation visit us
  With thy long levell'd rule of streaming light.                     340
  And thou shalt be our star of Arcady,
  Or Tyrian Cynosure.
                      2. Bro: Or if our eyes
  Be barr'd that happines, might we but hear
  The folded flocks pen'd in their watled 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 som solace yet, som little chearing
  In this close dungeon of innumerous bowes.
  But O that haples virgin our lost sister                            350
  Where may she wander now, whether betake her
  From the chill dew, amongst rude burrs and thistles?
  Perhaps som cold bank is her boulster now
  Or 'gainst the rugged bark of som broad Elm
  Leans her unpillow'd head fraught with sad fears.
  What if in wild amazement, and affright,
  Or while we speak within the direfull grasp
  Of Savage hunger, or of Savage heat?

  Eld. Bro: Peace brother, be not over-exquisite
  To cast the fashion of uncertain evils;                             360
  For grant they be so, while they rest unknown,
  What need a man forestall 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 unprincipl'd in vertues book,
  And the sweet peace that goodnes boosoms ever,
  As that the single want of light and noise
  (Not being in danger, as I trust she is not)                        370
  Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts,
  And put them into mis-becoming plight.
  Vertue could see to do what vertue would
  By her own radiant light, though Sun and Moon
  Were in the salt sea sunk.  And Wisdoms 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 too ruffled and sometimes impaired.                        380
  He that has light within his own deer brest
  May sit i'th center, 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.

  2. Bro: Tis most true
  That musing meditation most affects
  The pensive secrecy of desert cell,
  Far from the cheerfull haunt of men, and herds,
  And sits as safe as in a Senat house,
  For who would rob a Hermit of his Weeds,                            390
  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 uninchanted eye,
  To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit
  From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.
  You may as well spred out the unsun'd heaps
  Of Misers treasure by an out-laws den,
  And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope                              400
  Danger will wink on Opportunity,
  And let a single helpless maiden pass
  Uninjur'd in this wilde surrounding wast.
  Of night, or lonelines it recks me not,
  I fear the dred events that dog them both,
  Lest som ill greeting touch attempt the person
  Of our unowned sister.

  Eld. Bro: I do not, brother,
  Inferr, as if I thought my sisters state
  Secure without all doubt, or controversie:
  Yet where an equall poise of hope and fear                          410
  Does arbitrate th'event, my nature is
  That I encline to hope, rather then 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.

  2. Bro: What hidden strength,
  Unless the strength of Heav'n, if you mean that?

  ELD Bro: I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength
  Which if Heav'n gave it, may be term'd her own:
  'Tis chastity, my brother, chastity:                               420
  She that has that, is clad in compleat steel,
  And like a quiver'd Nymph with Arrows keen
  May trace huge Forests, and unharbour'd Heaths,
  Infamous Hills, and sandy perilous wildes,
  Where through the sacred rayes of Chastity,
  No savage fierce, Bandite, or mountaneer
  Will dare to soyl her Virgin purity,
  Yea there, where very desolation dwels
  By grots, and caverns shag'd with horrid shades,
  She may pass on with unblench't majesty,                            430
  Be it not don in pride, or in presumption.
  Som say no evil thing that walks by night
  In fog, or fire, by lake, or moorish fen,
  Blew meager Hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost,
  That breaks his magick chains at curfeu time,
  No goblin, or swart faery of the mine,
  Hath hurtfull power o're true virginity.
  Do ye beleeve me yet, or shall I call
  Antiquity from the old Schools of Greece
  To testifie the arms of Chastity?                                   440
  Hence had the huntress Dian her dred bow
  Fair silver-shafted Queen for ever chaste,
  Wherwith 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 oth' Woods.
  What was that snaky-headed Gorgon sheild
  That wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd Virgin,
  Wherwith she freez'd her foes to congeal'd stone?
  But rigid looks of Chast austerity,                                 450
  And noble grace that dash't brute violence
  With sudden adoration, and blank aw.
  So dear to Heav'n is Saintly chastity,
  That when a soul is found sincerely so,
  A thousand liveried Angels lacky her,
  Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,
  And in cleer dream, and solemn vision
  Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear,
  Till oft convers with heav'nly habitants
  Begin to cast a beam on th'outward shape,                           460
  The unpolluted temple of the mind.
  And turns it by degrees to the souls essence,
  Till all be made immortal: but when lust
  By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,
  But most by leud and lavish act of sin,
  Lets in defilement to the inward parts,
  The soul grows clotted by contagion,
  Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite loose
  The divine property of her first being.
  Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp                        470
  Oft seen in Charnell vaults, and Sepulchers
  Lingering, and sitting by a new made grave,
  As loath to leave the body that it lov'd,
  And link't it self by carnal sensualty
  To a degenerate and degraded state.

  2. Bro: 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 surfet raigns.
                                Eld. Bro: List, list, I hear          480
  Som far off hallow break the silent Air.

  2.  Bro: Me thought so too; what should it be?

  Eld. Bro: For certain
  Either som one like us night-founder'd here,
  Or els som neighbour Wood-man, or at worst,
  Som roaving robber calling to his fellows.

  2. Bro: Heav'n keep my sister, agen agen and neer,
  Best draw, and stand upon our guard.

  Eld. Bro: Ile hallow,
  If he be friendly he comes well, if not,
  Defence is a good cause, and Heav'n be for us.

  [Enter] The attendant Spirit habited like a Shepherd.

  That hallow I should know, what are you? speak;                     490
  Com not too neer, you fall on iron stakes else.

  Spir: What voice is that, my young Lord? speak agen.

  2. Bro: O brother, 'tis my father Shepherd sure.

  Eld. Bro: Thyrsis? Whose artful strains have oft delaid
  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
  Slip't from the fold, or young Kid lost his dam,
  Or straggling weather the pen't flock forsook?
  How couldst thou find this dark sequester'd nook?                   500

  Spir: O my lov'd masters 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 Woolf, 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?

  Eld. Bro: To tell thee sadly Shepherd, without blame
  Or our neglect, we lost her as we came.                             510

  Spir: Ay me unhappy then my fears are true.

  Eld. Bro: What fears good Thyrsis? Prethee briefly shew.

  Spir: Ile tell ye, 'tis not vain or fabulous,
  (Though so esteem'd by shallow ignorance)
  What the sage Poets taught by th' heav'nly Muse,
  Storied of old in high immortal vers
  Of dire Chimera's and inchanted Iles,
  And rifted Rocks whose entrance leads to hell,
  For such there be, but unbelief is blind.
  Within the navil of this hideous Wood,                              520
  Immur'd in cypress shades a Sorcerer dwels
  Of Bacchus, and of Circe born, great Comus,
  Deep skill'd in all his mothers witcheries,
  And here to every thirsty wanderer,
  By sly enticement gives his banefull cup,
  With many murmurs mixt, whose pleasing poison
  The visage quite transforms of him that drinks,
  And the inglorious likenes of a beast
  Fixes instead, unmoulding reasons mintage
  Character'd in the Face; this have I learn't                        530
  Tending my flocks 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 stabl'd wolves, or tigers at their prey,
  Doing abhorred rites to Hecate
  In their obscured haunts of inmost bowres.
  Yet have they many baits, and guilefull spells
  To inveigle and invite th' unwary sense
  Of them that pass unweeting by the way.
  This evening late by then the chewing flocks                        540
  Had ta'n their supper on the savoury Herb
  Of Knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold,
  I sate me down to watch upon a bank
  With Ivy canopied, and interwove
  With flaunting Hony-suckle, and began
  Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy
  To meditate my rural minstrelsie,
  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' t, and listen'd them a while,
  Till an unusuall stop of sudden silence
  Gave respit to the drowsie 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 e're she was ware, and wish't she might
  Deny her nature, and be never more
  Still to be so displac't.  I was all eare,                          560
  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 neer the deadly snare!
  Then down the Lawns I ran with headlong hast
  Through paths, and turnings oft'n trod by day,
  Till guided by mine ear I found the place                           570
  Where that damn'd wisard hid in sly disguise
  (For so by certain signes I knew) had met
  Already, ere my best speed could praevent,
  The aidless innocent Lady his wish't prey,
  Who gently ask't if he had seen such two,
  Supposing him som neighbour villager;
  Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guess't
  Ye were the two she mean't, with that I sprung
  Into swift flight, till I had found you here,
  But furder know I not.
                        2. Bro: O night and shades,                   580
  How are ye joyn'd with hell in triple knot
  Against th'unarmed weakness of one Virgin
  Alone, and helpless!  Is this the confidence
  You gave me Brother?
                       Eld. Bro: Yes, and keep it still,
  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,
  Vertue may be assail'd, but never hurt,
  Surpriz'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 it self shall back recoyl,
  And mix no more with goodness, when at last
  Gather'd like scum, and setl'd to it self
  It shall be in eternal restless change
  Self-fed, and self-consum'd, if this fail,
  The pillar'd firmament is rott'nness,
  And earths base built on stubble.  But corn let's on.
  Against th' opposing will and arm of Heav'n                         600
  May never this just sword be lifted up,
  But for that damn'd magician, let him be girt
  With all the greisly legions that troop
  Under the sooty flag of Acheron,
  Harpyies and Hydra's, or all the monstrous forms
  'Twixt Africa and Inde, Ile find him out,
  And force him to restore his purchase back,
  Or drag him by the curls, to a foul death,
  Curs'd as his life.

  Spir: Alas good ventrous youth,
  I love thy courage yet, and bold Emprise,                           610
  But here thy sword can do thee little stead,
  Farr other arms, and other weapons must
  Be those that quell the might of hellish charms,
  He with his bare wand can unthred thy joynts,
  And crumble all thy sinews.

  Eld. Bro: Why prethee Shepherd
  How durst thou then thy self approach so neer
  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                         620
  In every vertuous plant and healing herb
  That spreds 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 extasie,
  And in requitall ope his leather'n scrip,
  And shew me simples of a thousand names
  Telling their strange and vigorous faculties;
  Amongst the rest a small unsightly root,
  But of divine effect, he cull'd me out;                             630
  The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it,
  But in another Countrey, as he said,
  Bore a bright golden flowre, but not in this soyl:
  Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swayn
  Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon,
  And yet more med'cinal is it then that Moly
  That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave;
  He call'd it Haemony, and gave it me,
  And bad me keep it as of sov'ran use
  'Gainst all inchantments, mildew blast, or damp                     640
  Or gastly furies apparition;
  I purs't it up, but little reck'ning made,
  Till now that this extremity compell'd,
  But now I find it true; for by this means
  I knew the foul inchanter 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
  Boldly assault the necromancers hall;
  Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood,                           650
  And brandish't blade rush on him, break his glass,
  And shed the lushious liquor on the ground,
  But sease his wand, though he and his curst crew
  Feirce signe of battail make, and menace high,
  Or like the sons of Vulcan vomit smoak,
  Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink.

  Eld. Bro: Thyrsis lead on apace, Ile follow thee,
  And som good angel bear a sheild before us.

  The scene changes to a stately Palace, set out with all manner of
  deliciousness; Soft Musick, Tables spred with all dainties.
  Comus appears with his rabble, and the Lady set in an inchanted
  Chair, to whom he offers his Glass, which she puts by, and goes
  about to rise.

  COMUS: Nay Lady sit; if I but wave this wand
  Your nerves are all chain'd up in Alablaster,                       660
  And you a statue; or as Daphne was
  Root-bound, that fled Apollo.

  La:  Fool do not boast,
  Thou canst not touch the freedom of my minde
  With all thy charms, although this corporal rinde
  Thou haste immanacl'd, while Heav'n sees good.

  Co: Why are you vext Lady? why do you frown
  Here dwell no frowns, nor anger, from these gates
  Sorrow flies farr: See here be all the pleasures
  That fancy can beget on youthfull thoughts,
  When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns                      670
  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 mixt.
  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 your self,
  And to those dainty limms which nature lent                         680
  For gentle usage, and soft delicacy?
  But you invert the cov'nants 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
  This will restore all soon.

  La: 'Twill not false traitor,                                       690
  'Twill not restore the truth and honesty
  That thou hast banish't from thy tongue with lies
  Was this the cottage, and the safe abode
  Thou told'st me of? What grim aspects are these
  These oughly-headed Monsters? Mercy guard me!
  Hence with thy brew'd inchantments, foul deceit
  Hast thou betrai'd my credulous innocence
  With visor'd falshood, and base forgery,
  And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here
  With lickerish baits fit to ensnare a brute?                        700
  Were it a draft for Juno when she banquets,
  I would not taste thy treasonous 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.

  Co: O foolishnes of men! that lend their ears
  To those budge doctors of the Stoick Furr,
  And fetch their precepts from the Cynick Tub,
  Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence.
  Wherefore did Nature powre her bounties forth,                      710
  With such a full and unwithdrawing hand,
  Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks,
  Thronging the Seas with spawn innumerable,
  But all to please, and sate the curious taste?
  And set to work millions of spinning Worms,
  That in their green shops weave the smooth-hair'd silk
  To deck her Sons, and that no corner might
  Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loyns
  She hutch't th'all-worshipt ore, and precious gems
  To store her children with; if all the world                       720
  Should in a pet of temperance feed on Pulse,
  Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but Freize,
  Th'all-giver would be unthank't, would be unprais'd,
  Not half his riches known, and yet despis'd,
  And we should serve him as a grudging master,
  As a penurious niggard of his wealth,
  And live like Natures bastards, not her sons,
  Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight,
  And strangl'd with her waste fertility;
  Th'earth cumber'd, and the wing'd air dark't with plumes.           730
  The herds would over-multitude their Lords,
  The Sea o'refraught would swell, and th'unsought diamonds
  Would so emblaze the forhead of the Deep,
  And so bested with Stars, that they below
  Would grow inur'd to light, and com at last
  To gaze upon the Sun with shameless brows.
  List Lady be not coy, and be not cosen'd
  With that same vaunted name Virginity,
  Beauty is natures coyn, must not be hoorded,
  But must be currant, and the good thereof                           740
  Consists in mutual and partak'n bliss,
  Unsavoury in th'injoyment of it self
  If you let slip time, like a neglected rose
  It withers on the stalk with languish't head.
  Beauty is natures brag, and must be shown
  In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities
  Where most may wonder at the workmanship;
  It is for homely features to keep home,
  They had their name thence; course complexions
  And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply                         750
  The sampler, and to teize the huswifes wooll.
  What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that
  Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the Morn?
  There was another meaning in these gifts,
  Think what, and be adviz'd, you are but young yet.

  La: I had not thought to have unlockt my lips
  In this unhallow'd air, but that this Jugler
  Would think to charm my judgement, as mine eyes,
  Obtruding false rules pranckt in reasons garb.
  I hate when vice can bolt her arguments,                            760
  And vertue has no tongue to check her pride:
  Impostor do not charge most innocent nature,
  As if she would her children should be riotous
  With her abundance, she good cateress
  Means her provision onely to the good
  That live according to her sober laws,
  And holy dictate of spare Temperance:
  If every just man that now pines with want
  Had but a moderate and beseeming share
  Of that which lewdly-pamper'd Luxury                                770
  Now heaps upon som few with vast excess,
  Natures full blessings would be well dispenc't
  In unsuperfluous eeven proportion,
  And she no whit encomber'd with her store,
  And then the giver would be better thank't,
  His praise due paid, for swinish gluttony
  Ne're looks to Heav'n amidst his gorgeous feast,
  But with besotted base ingratitude
  Cramms, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I go on?
  Or have I said anough? To him that dares                            780
  Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words
  Against the Sun-clad power of Chastity,
  Fain would I somthing say, yet to what end?
  Thou hast nor Eare, nor Soul to apprehend
  The sublime notion, and high mystery
  That must be utter'd to unfold the sage
  And serious doctrine of Virginity,
  And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know
  More happiness then this thy present lot.
  Enjoy your deer Wit, and gay Rhetorick                              790
  That hath so well been taught her dazling fence,
  Thou art not fit to hear thy self convinc't;
  Yet should I try, the uncontrouled worth
  Of this pure cause would kindle my rap't spirits
  To such a flame of sacred vehemence
  That dumb things would be mov'd to sympathize,
  And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake,
  Till all thy magick structures rear'd so high,
  Were shatter'd into heaps o're thy false head.

  Co:  She fables not, I feel that I do fear                          800
  Her words set off by som superior power;
  And though not mortal, yet a cold shuddring dew
  Dips me all o're, as when the wrath of Jove
  Speaks thunder, and the chains of Erebus
  To som of Saturns crew.  I must dissemble,
  And try her yet more strongly.  Com, no more,
  This is meer moral babble, and direct
  Against the canon laws of our foundation;
  I must not suffer this, yet 'tis but the lees
  And setlings of a melancholy blood;                                 810
  But this will cure all streight, one sip of this
  Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight
  Beyond the bliss of dreams.  Be wise, and taste.—

  The brothers rush in with Swords drawn, wrest his Glass out of
  his hand, and break it against the ground; his rout make signe of
  resistance, but are all driven in; The attendant Spirit comes in.

  Spir: What, have you let the false enchanter scape?
  O ye mistook, ye should have snatcht his wand
  And bound him fast; without his rod revers't,
  And backward mutters of dissevering power,
  We cannot free the Lady that sits here
  In stony fetters fixt, and motionless;
  Yet stay, be not disturb'd, now I bethink me                        820
  Som other means I have which may he us'd
  Which once of Meliboeus old I learnt
  The soothest Shepherd that ere pip't on plains.
  There is a gentle Nymph not farr from hence,
  That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream,
  Sabrina is her name, a Virgin pure,
  Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,
  That had the Scepter from his father Brute.
  The guiltless damsel flying the mad pursuit
  Of her enraged stepdam Guendolen,                                   830
  Commended her fair innocence to the flood
  That stay'd her flight with his cross-flowing course,
  The water Nymphs that in the bottom plaid,
  Held up their pearled wrists and took her in,
  Bearing her straight to aged Nereus Hall,
  Who piteous of her woes, rear'd her lank head,
  And gave her to his daughters to imbathe
  In nectar'd lavers strew'd with Asphodil,
  And through the porch and inlet of each sense
  Dropt in Ambrosial Oils till she reviv'd,                           840
  And underwent a quick immortal change
  Made Goddess of the River; still she retains
  Her maid'n gentlenes, and oft at Eeve
  Visits the herds along the twilight meadows,
  Helping all urchin blasts, and ill luck signes
  That the shrewd medling Elfe delights to make,
  Which she with pretious viold liquors heals.
  For which the Shepherds at their festivals
  Carrol her goodnes lowd in rustick layes,
  And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream                     850
  Of pancies, pinks, and gaudy Daffadils.
  And, as the old Swain said, she can unlock
  The clasping charms, and thaw the numming spell,
  If she be right invok't in warbled Song,
  For maid'nhood she loves, and will be swift
  To aid a Virgin, such as was her self
  In hard besetting need, this will I try
  And adde the power of som adjuring verse.

  SONG.

  Sabrina fair
  Listen when thou art sitting                                        860
  Under the glassie, cool, translucent wave,
  In twisted braids of Lillies knitting
  The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair,
  Listen for dear honour's sake,
  Goddess of the silver lake,
  Listen and save.

  Listen and appear to us
  In name of great Oceanus,
  By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace,
  And Tethys grave majestick pace,                                    870
  By hoary Nereus wrincled look,
  And the Carpathian wisards hook,
  By scaly Tritons winding shell,
  And old sooth-saying Glaucus spell,
  By Leucothea's lovely hands,
  And her son that rules the strands,
  By Thetis tinsel-slipper'd feet,
  And the Songs of Sirens sweet,
  By dead Parthenope's dear tomb,
  And fair Ligea's golden comb,                                       880
  Wherwith she sits on diamond rocks
  Sleeking her soft alluring locks,
  By all the Nymphs that nightly dance
  Upon thy streams with wily glance,
  Rise, rise, and heave thy rosie head
  From thy coral-pav'n bed,
  And bridle in thy headlong wave,
  Till thou our summons answered have.
  Listen and save.

  Sabrina rises, attended by water-Nymphes, and sings.

  Sab: By the rushy-fringed bank,                                     890
  Where grows the Willow and the Osier dank,
  My sliding Chariot stayes,
  Thick set with Agat, and the azurn sheen
  Of Turkis blew, and Emrauld green
  That in the channell strayes,
  Whilst from off the waters fleet
  Thus I set my printless feet
  O're the Cowslips Velvet head,
  That bends not as I tread,
  Gentle swain at thy request                                         900
  I am here.

  Spir: Goddess dear
  We implore thy powerful hand
  To undo the charmed band
  Of true Virgin here distrest,
  Through the force, and through the wile
  Of unblest inchanter vile.

  Sab: Shepherd 'tis my office best
  To help insnared chastity;
  Brightest Lady look on me,                                          910
  Thus I sprinkle on thy brest
  Drops that from my fountain pure,
  I have kept of pretious cure,
  Thrice upon thy fingers tip,
  Thrice upon thy rubied lip,
  Next this marble venom'd seat
  Smear'd with gumms of glutenous heat
  I touch with chaste palms moist and cold,
  Now the spell hath lost his hold;
  And I must haste ere morning hour                                   920
  To wait in Amphitrite's bowr.

  Sabrina descends, and the Lady rises out of her seat.

  Spir: Virgin, daughter of Locrine
  Sprung of old Anchises line,
  May thy brimmed waves for this
  Their full tribute never miss
  From a thousand petty rills,
  That tumble down the snowy hills:
  Summer drouth, or singed air
  Never scorch thy tresses fair,
  Nor wet Octobers torrent flood                                      930
  Thy molten crystal fill with mudd,
  May thy billows rowl ashoar
  The beryl, and the golden ore,
  May thy lofty head be crown'd
  With many a tower and terrass round,
  And here and there thy banks upon
  With Groves of myrrhe, and cinnamon.

  Com Lady while Heaven lends us grace,
  Let us fly this cursed place,
  Lest the Sorcerer us intice                                         940
  With som other new device.
  Not a waste, or needless sound
  Till we com to holier ground,
  I shall be your faithfull guide
  Through this gloomy covert wide,
  And not many furlongs thence
  Is your Fathers residence,
  Where this night are met in state
  Many a friend to gratulate
  His wish't presence, and beside                                     950
  All the Swains that there abide,
  With Jiggs, and rural dance resort,
  We shall catch them at their sport,
  And our sudden coming there
  Will double all their mirth and chere;
  Com let us haste, the Stars grow high,
  But night sits monarch yet in the mid sky.

  The Scene changes, presenting Ludlow Town and the President
  Castle, then com in Countrey-Dancers, after them the attendant
  Spirit, with the two Brothers and the Lady.

  SONG.

  Spir: Back Shepherds, back, anough your play,
  Till next Sun-shine holiday,
  Here be without duck or nod                                         960
  Other trippings to be trod
  Of lighter toes, and such Court guise
  As Mercury did first devise
  With the mincing Dryades
  On the Lawns, and on the Leas.

  This second Song presents them to their father and mother.

  Noble Lord, and Lady bright,
  I have brought ye new delight,
  Here behold so goodly grown
  Three fair branches of your own,
  Heav'n hath timely tri'd their youth.                               970
  Their faith, their patience, and their truth
  And sent them here through hard assays
  With a crown of deathless Praise,
  To triumph in victorious dance
  O're sensual folly, and Intemperance.

  The dances ended, the Spirit Epiloguizes.

  Spir: To the Ocean now I fly,
  And those happy climes that ly
  Where day never shuts his eye,
  Up in the broad fields of the sky:
  There I suck the liquid ayr                                         980
  All amidst the Gardens fair
  Of Hesperus, and his daughters three
  That sing about the golden tree:
  Along the crisped shades and bowres
  Revels the spruce and jocond Spring,
  The Graces, and the rosie-boosom'd Howres,
  Thither all their bounties bring,
  That there eternal Summer dwels,
  And West winds, with musky wing
  About the cedar'n alleys fling                                      990
  Nard, and Cassia's balmy smels.
  Iris there with humid bow,
  Waters the odorous banks that blow
  Flowers of more mingled hew
  Then her purfl'd scarf can shew,
  And drenches with Elysian dew
  (List mortals, if your ears be true)
  Beds of Hyacinth, and roses
  Where young Adonis oft reposes,
  Waxing well of his deep wound                                      1000
  In slumber soft, and on the ground
  Sadly sits th' Assyrian Queen;
  But far above in spangled sheen
  Celestial Cupid her fam'd son advanc't,
  Holds his dear Psyche sweet intranc't
  After her wandring labours long,
  Till free consent the gods among
  Make her his eternal Bride,
  And from her fair unspotted side
  Two blissful twins are to be born,
  Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn.                                 1010
  But now my task is smoothly don,
  I can fly, or I can run
  Quickly to the green earths end,
  Where the bow'd welkin slow doth bend,
  And from thence can soar as soon
  To the corners of the Moon.
  Mortals that would follow me,
  Love vertue, she alone is free,
  She can teach ye how to clime                                      1020
  Higher then the Spheary chime;
  Or if Vertue feeble were,
  Heav'n it self would stoop to her.

  Notes:
  43 ye] you  1673
  167 omitted 1673
  168, 9 Thus 1637. Manuscript reads—
  but heere she comes I fairly step aside
  & hearken, if I may, her buisnesse heere.
  1673 reads—
  And hearken, if I may her business hear.
  But here she comes, I fairly step aside.
  474 sensualty] sensuality 1673. Manuscript also reads sensualtie,
  as the metre requires.
  493 father] So also 1673. Manuscript reads father's
  547 meditate] meditate upon 1673
  553 drowsie frighted] Manuscript reads drowsie flighted.
  556 steam] stream 1673
  580 furder] further 1673
  743 In the manuscript, which reads—
  If you let slip time like an neglected rose
  a circle has been drawn round the an, but probably not by Milton.
  780 anough] anow 1673