Lady. This way the noise was, if mine ear be true ,
 My best guide now. Methought it was the sound
 Of riot and ill-managed merriment, 172
Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipe
 Stirs up among the loose unlettered hinds,
 When, for their teeming flocks and granges full,
 In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan,
 And thank the gods amiss. I should be loth
 To meet the rudeness and swilled insolence
 Of such late wassailers; yet, oh! where else
 Shall I inform my unacquainted feet 180
In the blind mazes of this tangled wood?
 My brothers, when they saw me wearied out
 With this long way, resolving here to lodge
 Under the spreading favour of these pines,
 Stepped, as they said, to the next thicket-side
 To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit
 As the kind hospitable woods provide.
 They left me then when the grey-hooded Even,
 Like a sad votarist in palmer’s weed,
 Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phœbus’ wain. 190
But where they are, and why they came not back,
 Is now the labour of my thoughts. ’Tis likeliest
 They had engaged their wandering steps too far;
 And envious darkness, ere they could return,
 Had stole them from me. Else, O thievish Night,
 Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end,
 In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars
 That Nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps
 With everlasting oil to give due light
 To the misled and lonely traveller? 200
This is the place, as well as I may guess,
 Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth
 Was rife, and perfect in my listening ear;
 Yet nought but single darkness do I find.
 What might this be? A thousand fantasies
 Begin to throng into my memory,
 Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire,
 And airy tongues that syllable men’s names
 On sands and shores and desert wildernesses.
 These thoughts may startle well, but not astound 210
The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended
 By a strong siding champion, Conscience.
 O, welcome, pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope,
 Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings,
 And thou unblemished form of Chastity!
 I see ye visibly, and now believe
 That He, the Supreme Good, to whom all things ill
 Are but as slavish officers of vengeance,
 Would send a glistering guardian, if need were,
 To keep my life and honour unassailed.... 220
Was I deceived, 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 hallo to my brothers, but
 Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest
 I’ll venture; for my new-enlivened 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-embroidered 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 flowery cave,
 Tell me but where, 240
Sweet Queen of Parley, Daughter of the Sphere!
 So may’st thou be translated to the skies,
 And give resounding grace to all Heaven’s harmonies!
Comus. Can any mortal mixture of earth’s mould
 Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?
 Sure something holy lodges in that breast,
 And with these raptures moves the vocal air
 To testify his hidden residence.
 How sweetly did they float upon the wings
 Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night, 250
At every fall smoothing the raven down
 Of darkness till it smiled! I have oft heard
 My mother Circe with the Sirens three,
 Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades,
 Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs,
 Who, as they sung, would take the prisoned soul,
 And lap it in Elysium: Scylla wept,
 And chid her barking waves into attention,
 And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause.
 Yet they in pleasing slumber lulled the sense, 260
And in sweet madness robbed it of itself;
 But such a sacred and home-felt delight,
 Such sober certainty of waking bliss,
 I never heard till now. I’ll speak to her,
 And she shall be my queen.—Hail, foreign wonder!
 Whom certain these rough shades did never breed,
 Unless the goddess that in rural shrine
 Dwell’st here with Pan or Sylvan by blest song
 Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog
 To touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood. 270
Lady. Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praise
 That is addressed to unattending ears.
 Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift
 How to regain my severed company,
 Compelled me to awake the courteous Echo
 To give me answer from her mossy couch.
Comus. What chance, good Lady, hath bereft you thus?
Lady. Dim darkness and this leafy labyrinth.
Comus. Could that divide you from near-ushering guides?
Lady. They left me weary on a grassy turf. 280
Comus. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why?
Lady. To seek i’ the valley some cool friendly spring.
Comus. And left your fair side all unguarded, lady?
Lady. They were but twain, and purposed quick return.
Comus. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them.
Lady. How easy my misfortune is to hit!
Comus. Imports their loss, beside the present need?
Lady. No less than if I should my brothers lose.
Comus. Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom?
Lady. As smooth as Hebe’s their unrazored lips. 290
Comus. Two such I saw, what time the laboured ox
 In his loose traces from the furrow came,
 And the swinked hedger at his supper sat.
 I saw them under a green mantling vine,
 That crawls along the side of yon small hill,
 Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots;
 Their port was more than human, as they stood
 I took it for a faery vision
 Of some gay creatures of the element,
 That in the colours of the rainbow live, 300
And play i’ the plighted clouds. I was awe-strook,
 And, as I passed, I worshiped. If those you seek,
 It were a journey like the path to Heaven
 To help you find them.
Lady. Gentle villager,
 What readiest way would bring me to that place?
Comus. Due west it rises from this shrubby point.
Lady. To find out that, good shepherd, I suppose,
 In such a scant allowance of star-light,
 Would overtask the best land-pilot’s art,
 Without the sure guess of well-practised feet. 310
Comus. I know each lane, and every alley green,
 Dingle, or bushy dell, of this wild wood,
 And every bosky bourn from side to side,
 My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood;
 And, if your stray attendance be yet lodged,
 Or shroud within these limits, I shall know
 Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark
 From her thatched pallet rouse. If otherwise,
 I can conduct you, lady, to a low
 But loyal cottage, where you may be safe 320
Till further quest.
Lady. Shepherd, I take thy word,
 And trust thy honest-offered courtesy,
 Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds,
 With smoky rafters, than in tapestry halls
 And courts of princes, where it first was named,
 And yet is most pretended. In a place
 Less warranted than this, or less secure,
 I cannot be, that I should fear to change it.
 Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial
 To my proportioned strength! Shepherd, lead on. [Exeunt.

Enter the Two Brothers.

Elder Brother. Unmuffle, ye faint stars; and thou, fair moon, 331
That wont’st to love the traveller’s benison,
 Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud,
 And disinherit Chaos, that reigns here
 In double night of darkness and of shades;
 Or, if your influence be quite dammed up
 With black usurping mists, some gentle taper,
 Though a rush-candle from the wicker hole
 Of some clay habitation, visit us
 With thy long levelled rule of streaming light, 340
And thou shalt be our star of Arcady,
 Or Tyrian Cynosure.
Second Brother. Or, if our eyes
 Be barred that happiness, might we but hear
 The folded flocks, penned in their wattled cotes,
 Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops,
 Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock
 Count the night-watches to his feathery dames,
 ’Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering,
 In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs.
 But, Oh, that hapless virgin, our lost sister! 350
Where may she wander now, whither betake her
 From the chill dew, amongst rude burs and thistles?
 Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now,
 Or ’gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm
 Leans her unpillowed head, fraught with sad fears.
 What if in wild amazement and affright,
 Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp
 Of savage hunger, or of savage heat!
Elder Brother. 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 unprincipled in virtue’s book,
 And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever,
 As that the single want of light and noise
 (Not being in danger, as I trust she is not) 370
Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts,
 And put them into misbecoming plight.
 Virtue could see to do what Virtue would
 By her own radiant light, though sun and moon
 Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom’s self
 Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude,
 Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation,
 She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings,
 That, in the various bustle of resort,
 Were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impaired. 380
He that has light within his own clear breast
 May sit i’ the 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.
Second Brother. ’Tis most true
 That musing meditation most affects
 The pensive secrecy of desert cell,
 Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds,
 And sits as safe as in a senate-house;
 For who would rob a hermit of his weeds, 390
His few books, or his beads, or maple dish,
 Or do his grey hairs any violence?
 But Beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree
 Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard
 Of dragon-watch with unenchanted eye
 To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit,
 From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.
 You may as well spread out the unsunned heaps
 Of miser’s treasure by an outlaw’s den,
 And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope 400
Danger will wink on Opportunity,
 And let a single helpless maiden pass
 Uninjured in this wild surrounding waste.
 Of night or loneliness it recks me not;
 I fear the dread events that dog them both,
 Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person
 Of our unownéd sister.
Elder Brother. I do not, brother,
 Infer as if I thought my sister’s state
 Secure without all doubt or controversy;
 Yet, where an equal poise of hope and fear 410
Does arbitrate the event, my nature is
 That I incline to hope rather than fear,
 And gladly banish squint suspicion.
 My sister is not so defenceless left
 As you imagine; she has a hidden strength,
 Which you remember not.
Second Brother. What hidden strength,
 Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that?
Elder Brother. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength,
 Which, if Heaven gave it, may be termed her own.
 ’Tis chastity, my brother, chastity: 420
She that has that is clad in cómplete steel,
 And, like a quivered nymph with arrows keen,
 May trace huge forests, and unharboured heaths,
 Infámous hills, and sandy perilous wilds;
 Where, through the sacred rays of chastity,
 No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer,
 Will dare to soil her virgin purity.
 Yea, there where very desolation dwells,
 By grots and caverns shagged with horrid shades,
 She may pass on with unblenched majesty, 430
Be it not done in pride, or in presumption.
 Some say no evil thing that walks by night,
 In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen,
 Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost,
 That breaks his magic chains at curfew time,
 No goblin or swart faery of the mine,
 Hath hurtful power o’er true virginity.
 Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call
 Antiquity from the old schools of Greece
 To testify the arms of chastity? 440
Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow
 Fair silver-shafted queen for ever chaste,
 Wherewith she tamed the brinded lioness
 And spotted mountain-pard, but set at nought
 The frivolous bolt of Cupid; gods and men
 Feared her stern frown, and she was queen o’ the woods.
 What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield
 That wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin,
 Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone,
 But rigid looks of chaste austerity, 450
And noble grace that dashed brute violence
 With sudden adoration and blank awe?
 So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity
 That, when a soul is found sincerely so,
 A thousand liveried angels lackey her,
 Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,
 And in clear dream and solemn vision
 Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear;
 Till oft converse with heavenly habitants
 Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape, 460
The unpolluted temple of the mind,
 And turns it by degrees to the soul’s essence,
 Till all be made immortal. But, when lust,
 By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,
 But most by lewd and lavish act of sin,
 Lets in defilement to the inward parts,
 The soul grows clotted by contagion,
 Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite loose
 The divine property of her first being.
 Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp 470
Oft seen in charnel-vaults and sepulchres,
 Lingering and sitting by a new-made grave,
 As loth to leave the body that it loved,
 And linked itself by carnal sensualty
 To a degenerate and degraded state.
Second Brother. 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 nectared sweets,
 Where no crude surfeit reigns.
Elder Brother. List! list! I hear 480
Some far-off hallo break the silent air.
Second Brother. Methought so too; what should it be?
Elder Brother. For certain,
 Either some one, like us, night-foundered here,
 Or else some neighbour woodman, or, at worst,
 Some roving robber calling to his fellows.
Second Brother. Heaven keep my sister! Again, again, and near!
 Best draw, and stand upon our guard.
Elder Brother. I’ll hallo.
 If he be friendly, he comes well: if not,
 Defence is a good cause, and Heaven be for us!

Enter the Attendant Spirit, habited like a shepherd.

That hallo I should know. What are you? speak. 490
Come not too near; you fall on iron stakes else.
Spirit. What voice is that? my young Lord? speak again.
Second Brother. O brother, ’tis my father’s shepherd, sure.
Elder Brother. Thyrsis! whose artful strains have oft delayed
 The huddling brook to hear his madrigal,
 And sweetened every musk-rose of the dale.
 How camest thou here, good swain? Hath any ram
 Slipped from the fold, or young kid lost his dam,
 Or straggling wether the pent flock forsook?
 How couldst thou find this dark sequestered nook? 500
Spirit. O my loved master’s heir, and his next joy,
 I came not here on such a trivial toy
 As a strayed ewe, or to pursue the stealth
 Of pilfering wolf; not all the fleecy wealth
 That doth enrich these downs is worth a thought
 To this my errand, and the care it brought,
 But, oh! my virgin Lady, where is she?
 How chance she is not in your company?
Elder Brother. To tell thee sadly, Shepherd, without blame
 Or our neglect, we lost her as we came. 510
Spirit. Ay me unhappy! then my fears are true.
Elder Brother. What fears, good Thyrsis? Prithee briefly shew.
Spirit. I’ll tell ye. ’Tis not vain or fabulous
 (Though so esteemed by shallow ignorance)
 What the sage poets, taught by the heavenly Muse,
 Storied of old in high immortal verse
 Of dire Chimeras and enchanted isles,
 And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to Hell;
 For such there be, but unbelief is blind.
 Within the navel of this hideous wood, 520
Immured in cypress shades, a sorcerer dwells,
 Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus,
 Deep skilled in all his mother’s witcheries,
 And here to every thirsty wanderer
 By sly enticement gives his baneful cup,
 With many murmurs mixed, whose pleasing poison
 The visage quite transforms of him that drinks,
 And the inglorious likeness of a beast
 Fixes instead, unmoulding reason’s mintage
 Charáctered in the face. This have I learnt 530
Tending my flocks hard by i’ the hilly crofts
 That brow this bottom glade; whence night by night
 He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl
 Like stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey,
 Doing abhorred rites to Hecate
 In their obscuréd haunts of inmost bowers.
 Yet have they many baits and guileful spells
 To inveigle and invite the unwary sense
 Of them that pass unweeting by the way.
 This evening late, by then the chewing flocks 540
Had ta’en their supper on the savoury herb
 Of knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold,
 I sat me down to watch upon a bank
 With ivy canopied, and interwove
 With flaunting honeysuckle, and began,
 Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy,
 To meditate my rural minstrelsy,
 Till fancy had her fill. But ere a close
 The wonted roar was up amidst the woods,
 And filled the air with barbarous dissonance; 550
At which I ceased, and listened them awhile,
 Till an unusual stop of sudden silence
 Gave respite to the drowsy frighted steeds
 That draw the litter of close-curtained Sleep.
 At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound
 Rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes,
 And stole upon the air, that even Silence
 Was took ere she was ware, and wished she might
 Deny her nature, and be never more,
 Still to be so displaced. I was all ear, 560
And took in strains that might create a soul
 Under the ribs of Death. But, oh! ere long
 Too well I did perceive it was the voice
 Of my most honoured Lady, your dear sister.
 Amazed I stood, harrowed with grief and fear;
 And “O poor hapless nightingale,” thought I,
 “How sweet thou sing’st, how near the deadly snare!”
 Then down the lawns I ran with headlong haste,
 Through paths and turnings often trod by day,
 Till, guided by mine ear, I found the place 570
Where that damned wizard, hid in sly disguise
 (For so by certain signs I knew), had met
 Already, ere my best speed could prevent,
 The aidless innocent lady, his wished prey;
 Who gently asked if he had seen such two,
 Supposing him some neighbour villager.
 Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guessed
 Ye were the two she meant; with that I sprung
 Into swift flight, till I had found you here;
 But further know I not.
Second Brother. O night and shades, 580
How are ye joined with hell in triple knot
 Against the unarmed weakness of one virgin,
 Alone and helpless! Is this the confidence
 You gave me, brother?
Elder Brother. 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:
 Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt,
 Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled; 590
Yea, even that which Mischief meant most harm
 Shall in the happy trial prove most glory.
 But evil on itself shall back recoil,
 And mix no more with goodness, when at last,
 Gathered like scum, and settled to itself,
 It shall be in eternal restless change
 Self-fed and self-consumed. If this fail,
 The pillared firmament is rottenness,
 And earth’s base built on stubble. But come, let’s on!
 Against the opposing will and arm of Heaven 600
May never this just sword be lifted up;
 But, for that damned magician, let him be girt
 With all the grisly legions that troop
 Under the sooty flag of Acheron,
 Harpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms
 ’Twixt Africa and Ind, I’ll find him out,
 And force him to return his purchase back,
 Or drag him by the curls to a foul death,
 Cursed as his life.
Spirit. Alas! good venturous youth,
 I love thy courage yet, and bold emprise; 610
But here thy sword can do thee little stead.
 Far other arms and other weapons must
 Be those that quell the might of hellish charms.
 He with his bare wand can unthread thy joints,
 And crumble all thy sinews.
Elder Brother. Why, prithee, 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
 Brought to my mind a certain shepherd lad,
 Of small regard to see to, yet well skilled 620
In every virtuous plant and healing herb
 That spreads her verdant leaf to the morning ray.
 He loved me well, and oft would beg me sing;
 Which when I did, he on the tender grass
 Would sit, and hearken even to ecstasy,
 And in requital ope his leathern scrip,
 And show me simples of a thousand names,
 Telling their strange and vigorous faculties.
 Amongst the rest a small unsightly root,
 But of divine effect, he culled me out. 630
The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it,
 But in another country, as he said,
 Bore a bright golden flower, but not in this soil:
 Unknown, and like esteemed, and the dull swain
 Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon;
 And yet more med’cinal is it than that Moly
 That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave.
 He called it Hæmony, and gave it me,
 And bade me keep it as of sovran use
 ’Gainst all enchantments, mildew blast, or damp, 640
Or ghastly Furies’ apparition.
 I pursed it up, but little reckoning made,
 Till now that this extremity compelled.
 But now I find it true; for by this means
 I knew the foul enchanter, though disguised,
 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 650
And brandished blade rush on him: break his glass,
 And shed the luscious liquor on the ground;
 But seize his wand. Though he and his curst 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 music, tables spread with all dainties. Comus appears with his rabble, and the Lady set in an enchanted chair: to whom he offers his glass; which she puts by, and goes about to rise.

Comus. Nay, lady, sit. If I but wave this wand,
 Your nerves are all chained up in alabaster, 660
And you a statue, or as Daphne was,
 Root-bound, that fled Apollo.
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.
Comus. Why are you vexed, 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 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 syrups mixed.
 Not that Nepenthes which the wife of Thone
 In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena
 Is of such power to stir up joy as this,
 To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst.
 Why should you be so cruel to yourself,
 And to those dainty limbs, which Nature lent 680
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 received on other terms,
 Scorning the unexempt condition
 By which all mortal frailty must subsist,
 Refreshment after toil, ease after pain,
 That have been tired all day without repast,
 And timely rest have wanted. But, fair virgin,
 This will restore all soon.
Lady. ’Twill not, false traitor! 690
’Twill not restore the truth and honesty
 That thou hast banished 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 brewed enchantments, foul deceiver!
 Hast thou betrayed my credulous innocence
 With vizored falsehood and base forgery?
 And would’st thou seek again to trap me here
 With liquorish baits, fit to ensnare a brute? 700
Were it a draught 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-governed and wise appetite.
Comus. O foolishness of men! that lend their ears
 To those budge doctors of the Stoic fur,
 And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub,
 Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence!
 Wherefore did Nature pour 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-haired silk,
 To deck her sons; and, that no corner might
 Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins
 She hutched the all-worshipped 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 frieze,
 The All-giver would be unthanked, would be unpraised,
 Not half his riches known, and yet despised;
 And we should serve him as a grudging master,
 As a penurious niggard of his wealth,
 And live like Nature’s bastards, not her sons,
 Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight,
 And strangled with her waste fertility:
 The earth cumbered, and the winged air darked with plumes, 730
The herds would over-multitude their lords;
 The sea o’erfraught would swell, and the unsought diamonds
 Would so emblaze the forehead of the deep,
 And so bestud with stars, that they below
 Would grow inured to light, and come at last
 To gaze upon the sun with shameless brows.
 List, lady; be not coy, and be not cozened
 With that same vaunted name, Virginity.
 Beauty is Nature’s coin; must not be hoarded,
 But must be current; and the good thereof 740
Consists in mutual and partaken bliss,
 Unsavoury in the enjoyment of itself.
 If you let slip time, like a neglected rose
 It withers on the stalk with languished head.
 Beauty is Nature’s 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: coarse complexions
 And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply 750
The sampler, and to tease the huswife’s wool.
 What need of vermeil-tinctured lip for that,
 Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn?
 There was another meaning in these gifts;
 Think what, and be advised; you are but young yet.
Lady. I had not thought to have unlocked my lips
 In this unhallowed air, but that this juggler
 Would think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes,
 Obtruding false rules pranked in reason’s garb.
 I hate when vice can bolt her arguments 760
And virtue 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 only 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-pampered Luxury 770
Now heaps upon some few with vast excess,
 Nature’s full blessings would be well dispensed
 In unsuperfluous even proportions,
 And she no whit encumbered with her store;
 And then the Giver would be better thanked,
 His praise due paid: for swinish gluttony
 Ne’er looks to Heaven amidst his gorgeous feast,
 But with besotted base ingratitude
 Crams, and blasphemes his Feeder. Shall I go on?
 Or have I said enow? To him that dares 780
Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words
 Against the sun-clad power of chastity
 Fain would I something say;—yet to what end?
 Thou hast nor ear, nor soul, to apprehend
 The sublime notion and high mystery
 That must be uttered to unfold the sage
 And serious doctrine of Virginity;
 And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know
 More happiness than this thy present lot.
 Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric, 790
That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence;
 Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced.
 Yet, should I try, the uncontrollèd worth
 Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits
 To such a flame of sacred vehemence
 That dumb things would be moved to sympathise,
 And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake,
 Till all thy magic structures, reared so high,
 Were shattered into heaps o’er thy false head.
Comus. She fables not. I feel that I do fear 800
Her words set off by some superior power;
 And, though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering dew
 Dips me all o’er, as when the wrath of Jove
 Speaks thunder and the chains of Erebus
 To some of Saturn’s crew. I must dissemble,
 And try her yet more strongly.—Come, no more!
 This is mere moral babble, and direct
 Against the canon laws of our foundation.
 I must not suffer this; yet ’tis but the lees
 And settlings of a melancholy blood. 810
But this will cure all straight; 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 sign of resistance, but are all driven in. The Attendant Spirit comes in.