To the Right Honourable,John Lord Vicount Bracly,Son and Heir apparent to the Earlof Bridgewater, &c.
My Lord,
His 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 tir'd my Pen to give my severall friends satisfaction, and brought me to a necessity of producing it to the publike view; andnow 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 faithfully and most humble Servant
H. Lawes.
The Copy of a Letter Writt'nBy Sir Henry Wootton,To the Author, upon thefollowing Poem.
From the Colledge, this13.of April, 1638.
SlR,
T 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 chalenge 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 tl.at 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 others, or of mine own conscience. Signor Arrigomio (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 expresly sent this my Foot-boy to prevent your departure without som acknowledgement from me of the receipt of your obliging Letter, having my self 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.
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.
A
MASK
Presented
at Ludlow-Castle,
1634.&c.
The first Scene discovers a wilde Wood.
The attendant Spirit descends or enters.Efore the starry threshold of Joves CourtMy mansion is, where those immortal shapesOf bright aëreal Spirits live insphear'dIn Regions milde of calm and serene Ayr,Above the smoak and stirr of this dim spot,Which men call Earth, and with low-thoughted careConfin'd, and pester'd in this pin-fold here,Strive to keep up a frail, and Feaverish beingUnmindfull of the crown that Vertue givesAfter this mortal change, to her true ServantsAmongst the enthron'd gods on Sainted seats.Yet som there be that by due steps aspireTo lay their just hands on that Golden KeyThat 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 swayOf every salt Flood, and each ebbing Stream,Took in by lot 'twixt high, and neather Jove,Imperial rule of all the Sea-girt IlesThat like to rich, and various gemms inlayThe unadorned bosom of the Deep,Which he to grace his tributary godsBy course commits to severall goverment,And gives them leave to wear their Saphire crowns,And weild their little tridents, but this IleThe greatest, and the best of all the mainHe quarters to his blu-hair'd deities,And all this tract that fronts the falling SunA noble Peer of mickle trust, and powerHas in his charge, with temper'd awe to guideAn 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 wayLies through the perplex't paths of this drear Wood,The nodding horror of whose shady browsThreats the forlorn and wand'ring Passinger.And here their tender age might suffer perill,But that by quick command from Soveran JoveI was dispatcht for their defence, and guard;And listen why, for I will tell ye nowWhat never yet was heard in Tale or SongFrom old, or modern Bard in Hall, or Bowr.
Bacchus that first from out the purple Grape,Crush't the sweet poyson of mis-used WineAfter the Tuscan Mariners transform'dCoasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed,On Circes Iland fell (who knows not CirceThe daughter of the Sun? Whose charmed CupWhoever 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 SonMuch like his Father, but his Mother more,Whom therfore she brought up and Comus nam'd,Who ripe, and frolick of his full grown age,Roaving the Celtick, and Iberian fields,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'dInto some brutish form of Woolf, or Bear,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 beforeAnd all their friends, and native home forgetTo roule with pleasure in a sensual sty.Therfore when any favour'd of high Jove,Chances to passe through this adventrous glade,Swift as the Sparkle of a glancing Star,I shoot from Heav'n to give him safe convoy,As now I do: But first I must put offThese 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 Of this occasion. But I hear the treadOf 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 ofMonsters headed like sundry sorts of wilde Beasts,but otherwise like Men and Women, their Apparelglistering, they com in making a riotousand unruly noise, with Torches in their hands.
Comus. 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 allayIn the steep Atlantick stream,And the slope Sun his upward beamShoots against the dusky Pole,Pacing toward the other goleOf his Chamber in the East.Mean while 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.We that are of purer fireImitate 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 droveNow 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,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 sportDark vaild Cotytto, t' whom the secret flameOf mid-night Torches burns; mysterious DameThat ne're art call'd, but when the Dragon woomOf 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, till utmost endOf all thy dues be done, and none left out,Ere the blabbing Eastern scout,The nice Morn on th' Indian steepFrom her cabin'd loop hole peep,And to the tel-tale Sun discryOur 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, And to my wily trains, I shall e're longBe well stock't with as fair a herd as graz'dAbout my Mother Circe. Thus I hurlMy dazling Spells into the spungy ayr,Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion,And give it false presentments, lest the placeAnd my quaint habits breed astonishment,And put the Damsel to suspicious flight,Which must not be, for that's against my course;I under fair pretence of friendly ends,And well-plac't words of glozing courtesie,Baited with reasons not unplausibleWind me into the easie-hearted man,And hugg him into snares. When once her eyeHath met the vertue of this Magick dust, I shall appear som harmles VillagerWhom thrift keeps up about his Country gear,But here she comes, I fairly step asideAnd hearken, if I may, her busines here.
The Lady enters.
This way the noise was, if mine ear be true, My best guide now, me thought it was the soundOf Riot, and ill-manag'd Merriment,Such as the jocund Flute, or gamesom PipeStirs 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 loathTo meet the rudeness, and swill'd insolenceOf such late Wassailers; yet O where elsShall I inform my unacquainted feetIn the blind mazes of this tangl'd Wood?My Brothers when they saw me wearied outWith this long way, resolving here to lodgeUnder the spreading favour of these Pines,Stept as they se'd to the next Thicket sideTo bring me Berries, or such cooling fruitAs the kind hospitable Woods provide.They left me then, when the gray-hooded Eev'nLike a sad Votarist in Palmers weedRose from the hindmost wheels of Phœbus wain. 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? This is the place, as well as I may guest. Whence eev'n now the tumult of loud Mirth Was rife,and perfet 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 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 beleeveThat he, the Supreme good, t' whom all things illAre but as slavish officers of vengeance,Would send a glistring Guardian if need wereTo keep my life and honour unassail'd. Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloudTurn forth her silver lining on the night?I did not err, there does a sable cloudTurn forth her silver lining on the night,And casts a gleam over this tufted Grove.I cannot hallow to my Brothers, butSuch noise as I can make to be heard farthestIle venter, for my new enliv'nd spiritsPrompt me; and they perhaps are not far off.
SONG.
Sweet Echo, sweetest Nymph that liv'st unseenWithin thy airy shellBy slow Meander's margent green,And in the violet imbroider'd valeWhere the love-lorn NightingaleNightly to thee her sad Song mourneth well.Canst thou not tell me of a gentle PairThat likest thy Narcissus are?O if thou haveHid them in som flowry Cave,Tell me but whereSweet Queen of Parly, Daughter of the Sphear,So maist thou be translated to the skies,And give resounding grace to all Heav'ns Harmonies.
Com. Can any mortal mixture of Earths mouldBreath such Divine inchanting ravishment?Sure somthing holy lodges in that brest,And with these raptures moves the vocal airTo testifie his hidd'n residence;How sweetly did they float upon the wingsOf silence, through the empty-vaulted nightAt every fall smoothing the Raven douneOf darknes till it smil'd: I have oft heardMy mother Circe with the Sirens three,Amidst the flowry-kirtl'd NaiadesCulling 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,And in sweet madnes rob'd it of it self,But such a sacred and home-felt delight,Such sober certainty of waking blissI never heard till now. Ile speak to herAnd she shall be my Queen. Hail forren wonderWhom certain these rough shades did never breedUnlesse the Goddes that in rurall shrineDwell'st here with Pan, or Silvan, by blest SongForbidding every bleak unkindly FogTo touch the prosperous growth of this tall Wood.
La. Nay gentle Shepherd ill is lost that praiseThat is addrest to unattending Ears,Not any boast of skill, but extreme shiftHow to regain my sever'd companyCompell'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.
Co. By falshood, or discourtesie, or why?
La. To seek i'th 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.
Co. Two such I saw, what time the labour'd OxeIn his loose traces from the furrow came,And the swink't hedger at his Supper sate;I saw them under a green mantling vineThat 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 faëry visionOf som gay creatures of the elementThat in the colours of the Rainbow liveAnd 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'nTo help you find them.La. Gentle villagerWhat 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.
Co. I know each lane, and every alley greenDingle or bushy dell of this wilde Wood,And every bosky bourn from side to sideMy daily walks and ancient neighbourhood,And if your stray attendance be yet lodg'd, Or shroud within these limits, I shall knowEre morrow wake, or the low roosted larkFrom her thach't pallat rowse, if otherwiseI can conduct you Lady to a lowBut loyal cottage, where you may be safeTill further quest'.La. Shepherd I take thy word,And trust thy honest offer'd courtesie,Which oft is sooner found in lowly shedsWith smoaky rafters, then in tapstry HallsAnd Courts of Princes, where it first was nam'd,And yet is most pretended: In a placeLess warranted then this, or less secureI cannot be, that I should fear to change it,Eie me blest Providence, and square my triallTo my proportion'd strength. Shepherd lead on.
The two Brothers.
Eld. Bro. Unmuffle ye faint stars, and thou fair MoonThat wontst to love the travailers benizon,Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud,And disinherit Chaos, that raigns hereIn double night of darknes, and of shades;Or if your influence be quite damm'd upWith black usurping mists, som gentle taperThough a rush Candle from the wicker holeOf som clay habitation visit usWith thy long levell'd rule of streaming light,And thou shalt be our star of Arcady,Or Tyrian Cynosure.2 Bro. Or if our eyesBe barr'd that happines, might we but hearThe folded flocks pen'd in their watled cotes,Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops,Or whistle from the Lodge, or village cockCount the night watches to his feathery Dames,T' would be som solace yet, som little chearingIn this close dungeon of innumerous bowes.But O that haples virgin our lost sisterWhere may she wander now, whether betake herFrom the chill dew, amongst rude burrs and thistles?Perhaps som cold bank is her boulster nowOr 'gainst the rugged bark of som broad ElmLeans her unpillow'd head fraught with sad fears.What if in wild amazement, and affright,Or while we speak within the direful graspOf Savage hunger, or of Savage heat?
Eld. Bro. Peace brother, be not over-exquisiteTo cast the fashion of uncertain evils;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)Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts,And put them into mis-becoming plight.Vertue could see to do what vertue wouldBy her own radiant light, though Sun and MoonWere in the flat Sea sunk. And Wisdoms selfOft seeks to sweet retired Solitude,Where with her best nurse ContemplationShe plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wingsThat in the various bussle of resortWere all to ruffl'd, and somtimes impair'd. He that has light within his own cleer brestMay sit i'th center, and enjoy bright day,But he that hides a dark soul, and foul thoughtsBenighted walks under the mid-day Sun;Himself is his own dungeon.
2.Bro. Tis most trueThat musing meditation most affectsThe 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,His few Books, or his Beads, or Maple Dish,Or do his gray hairs any violence?But beauty like the fair Hesperian TreeLaden with blooming gold, had need the guardOf dragon watch with uninchanted eye,To save her blossoms, and defend her fruitFrom the rash hand of bold Incontinence.You may as well spred out the unsun'd heapsOf Misers treasure by an out-laws den,And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope Danger will wink on Opportunity,And let a single helpless maiden passUninjur'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 personOf our unowned sister.
Eld. Bro. I do not brother,Inferr as if I thought my sisters stateSecure without all doubt, or controversie:Yet where an equall poise of hope and fearDoes arbitrate th'event, my nature isThat I encline to hope, rather then fear,And gladly banish squint suspicion.My sister is not so defenceless leftAs you imagine, she has a hidden strengthWhich 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 strengthWhich if Heav'n gave it, may be term'd her own:'Tis chastity, my brother, chastity:She that has that, is clad in compleat steel,And like a quiver'd Nymph with Arrows keenMay 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 mountaneerWill dare to soyl her Virgin purity,Yea there, where very desolation dwelsBy grots, and caverns shag'd with horrid shades,She may pass on with unblench't majesty,Be it not don in pride, or in presumption.Som say no evil thing that walks by nightIn 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 Faëry of the mine,Hath hurtfull power o're true virginity.Do ye beleeve me yet, or shall I callAntiquity from the old Schools of GreeceTo testifie the arms of Chastity?Hence had the huntress Dian her dred bowFair silver-shafted Queen for ever chaste,Wherwith she tam'd the brinded lionessAnd spotted mountain pard, but set at noughtThe frivolous bolt of Cupid, gods and menFear'd her stern frown, and she was queen oth'Woods.What was that snaky-headed Gorgon sheildThat wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd Virgin,Wherwith she freez'd her foes to congeal'd stone?But rigid looks of Chaste austerity,And noble grace that dash't brute violenceWith 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 visionTell her of things that no gross ear can hear,Till oft convers with heav'nly habitantsBegin to cast a beam on th'outward shape,The unpolluted temple of the mind,And turns it by degrees to the souls essence,Till all be made immortal: but when lustBy 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 looseThe divine property of her first being.Such are those thick and gloomy shadows dampOft seen in Charnell vaults, and SepulchersLingering, and sitting by a new made grave,As loath to leave the body that it lov'd,And link't it self by carnal sensualtyTo 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 hearSom far off hallow break the silent Air.
2.Bro. Me thought so too; what should it be?
Eld. Bro. For certainEither 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
The attendant Spirit habited like a Shepherd.
That hallow I should know, what are you? speak; 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 delaidThe huddling brook to hear his madrigal, And sweeten'd every muskrose of the dale,How cam'st thou here good Swain? hath any ramSlip'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?
Spir. O my lov'd masters heir, and his next joy,I came not here on such a trivial toyAs a stray'd Ewe, or to pursue the stealthOf pilfering Woolf, not all the fleecy wealthThat 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.
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 versOf 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, Immur'd in cypress shades a Sorcerer dwelsOf 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 poisonThe visage quite transforms of him that drinks,And the inglorious likenes of a beastFixes instead, unmoulding reasons mintageCharacter'd in the face; this have I learn'tTending my flocks hard by i'th hilly crofts,That brow this bottom glade, whence night by nightHe and his monstrous rout are heard to howlLike stabl'd wolves, or tigers at their prey,Doing abhorred rites to HecateIn their obscured haunts of inmost bowres.Yet have they many baits, and guileful spellsTo inveigle and invite th'unwary senseOf them that pass unweeting by the wayThis evening late by then the chewing flocksHad ta'n their supper on the savoury HerbOf Knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold,I sate me down to watch upon a bankWith Ivy canopied, and interwoveWith flaunting Hony-suckle, and began Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholyTo meditate my rural minstrelsie,Till fancy had her fill, but ere a closeThe wonted roar was up amidst the Woods,And fill'd the Air with barbarous dissonance,At which I ceas't, and listen'd them a while,Till an unusual stop of sudden silenceGave respit to the drowsie frighted steedsThat draw the litter of close-curtain'd sleep.At last a soft and solemn breathing soundRose like a steam of rich distill'd Perfumes,And stole upon the Air, that even SilenceWas took e're she was ware, and wish't she mightDeny her nature, and be never moreStill to be so displac't. I was all eare,And took in strains that might create a soulUnder the ribs of Death, but O ere longToo well I did perceive it was the voiceOf 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 hastThrough paths, and turnings oft'n trod by day,Till guided by mine ear I found the placeWhere that damn'd wisard hid in sly disguise(For so by certain signes I knew) had metAlready, ere my best speed could prævent,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'tYe were the two she mean't, with that I sprungInto swift flight, till I had found you here,But furder know I not.2.Bro. O night and shades, How are ye joyn'd with hell in triple knotAgainst th'unarmed weakness of one VirginAlone, and helpless! Is this the confidenceYou gave me Brother?Eld. Bro. Yes, and keep it still,Lean on it safely, not a period Shall be unsaid for me: against the threatsOf malice or of sorcery, or that powerWhich 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, 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 lastGather'd like scum, and setl'd to it self It shall be in eternal restless changeSelf-fed, and self-consum'd; if this fail,The pillar'd firmament is rott'nness,And earths base built on stubble. But com let's on.Against th'opposing will and arm of Heav'nMay never this just sword be lifted up,But for that damn'd magician, let him be girtWith all the greisly legions that troopUnder 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.Hove thy courage yet, and, bold Emprise,But here thy sword can do thee little stead,Farr other arms, and other weapons mustBe 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 ShepherdHow durst thou then thy self approach so neerAs to make this relation?
Spir. Care and utmost shiftsHow to secure the Lady from surprisal,Brought to my mind a certain Shepherd LadOf small regard to see to, yet well skill'dIn every vertuous plant and healing herbThat 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 grassWould sit, and hearken even to extasie.And in requitall ope his leather'n scrip,And shew me simples of a thousand namesTelling their strange and vigorous faculties;Amongst the rest a small unsightly root,But of divine effect, he cull'd me out;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 swaynTreads on it daily with his clouted shoon,And yet more med'cinal is it then that MolyThat Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave;He call'd it Hæmony, and gave it me,And bad me keep it as of sovran use'Gainst all inchantments, mildew blast, or dampOr 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 meansI 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 mayBoldly assault the necromancers hall;Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood,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 withall manner of deliciousness: soft Musick, Tablesspred with all dainties. Comus appears with hisrabble, and the Lady set in an inchanted Chair, towhom he offers his Glass, which she puts by, and goes about to rise.
Comus. Nay Lady sit; if I but wave this wand, Your nervs are all chain'd up in Alabaster, 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 Withall 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 dwel 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 returnsBrisk as the April buds in Primrose-season.And first behold this cordial Julep hereThat flames, and dances in his crystal boundsWith spirits of balm, and fragrant Syrops mixt.Not that Nepenthes which the wife of Thone,In Egypt gave to Jove-born HelenaIs 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 lentFor gentle usage, and soft delicacy?But you invert the cov'nants of her trust,And harshly deal like an ill borrowerWith that which you receiv'd on other terms,Scorning the unexempt conditionBy 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 VirginThis will restore all soon.
La. 'Twill not false traitor,'Twill not restore the truth and honestyThat thou hast banish't from thy tongue with lies,Was this the cottage, and the safe abodeThou told'st me of? What grim aspects are these,These oughly-headed Monsters? Mercy guard me!Hence with thy brew'd inchantments, foul deceiver,Hast thou betrai'd my credulous innocenceWith visor'd falshood, and base forgery.And wouldst thou seek again to trap me hereWith lickerish baits fit to ensnare a brute?Were it a draft for Juno when she banquets,I would not taste thy treasonous offer; noneBut such as are good men can give good things,And that which is not good, is not deliciousTo a wel govern'd and wise appetite.
Co. O foolishnes of men! that lend their earsTo those budge doctors of the Stoick Furr,And fetch their precepts from the Cynick Tub,Praising the lean and fallow Abstinence.Wherefore did Nature powre her bounties forth.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 silkTo deck her Sons, and that no corner mightBe vacant of her plenty, in her own loynsShe hutch't th'all-worshipt ore, and precious gemsTo store her children with; if all the worldShould 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 surcharg'd with her own weight,And strangl'd with her waste fertility;Th'earth cumber'd, and the wing'd air dark't with plumes.The herds would over-multitude their Lords,The Sea o'refraught would swell, & th'unsought diamondsWould so emblaze the forhead of the DeepAnd so bestudd with Stars, that they belowWould grow inur'd to light, and com at lastTo gaze upon the Sun with shameless brows.List Lady be not coy, and be not cosen'dWith that same vaunted name Virginity,Beauty is natures coyn, must not be hoorded,But must be currant, and the good thereofConsists in mutual and partak'n bliss,Unsavoury in th'injoyment of it selfIf you let slip time, like a neglected roseIt withers on the stalk with languish't head.Beauty is natures brag, and must be shownIn courts, at feasts, and high solemnitiesWhere most may wonder at the workmanship;It is for homely features to keep home,They had their name thence; course complexionsAnd checks of sorry grain will serve to plyThe sampler, and to teize the huswifes wooll.What need a vermeil-tinctur'd lip for thatLove-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 lipsIn this unhallow'd air, but that this JuglerWould think to charm my judgement, as mine eyesObtruding false rules pranckt in reasons garb.I hate when vice can bolt her arguments,And vertue has no tongue to check her pride:Impostor do not charge most innocent nature,As if she would her children should be riotousWith her abundance, she good cateressMeans her provision onely to the goodThat live according to her sober laws,And holy dictate of spare Temperance:If every just man that now pines with wantHad but a moderate and beseeming shareOf that which lewdly-pamper'd LuxuryNow heaps upon som few with vast excess,Natures full blessings would be well dispenc'tIn 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 gluttonyNe're looks to Heav'n amidst his gorgeous feast,But with besotted base ingratitudeCramms, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I go on?Or have I said anough? To him that daresArm his profane tongue with contemptuous wordsAgainst the Sun-clad power of Chastity,Fain would I somthing say, yet to what end?Thou hast nor Eare, nor Soul to apprehendThe sublime notion, and high mysteryThat must be utter'd to unfold the sageAnd serious doctrine of Virginity,And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not knowMore happines then this thy present lot.Enjoy your deer Wit, and gay RhetorickThat hath so well been taught her dazling fence,Thou art not fit to hear thy self convinc't;Yet should I try, the uncontrouled worthOf this pure cause would kindle my rap't spiritsTo such a flame of sacred vehemence,That dumb things would be mov'd to sympathize,And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shakeTill all thy magick structures rear'd so high,Were shatter'd into heap o're thy false head.
Co. She fables not, I feel that I do fearHer words set off by som superior power;And though not mortal, yet a cold shuddring dewDips me all o're, as when the wrath of JoveSpeaks thunder, and the chains of ErebusTo som of Saturns crew. I must dissemble,And try her yet more strongly. Com, no more,This is meer moral babble, and directAgainst the canon laws of our foundation;I must not suffer this, yet 'tis but the leesAnd setlings of a melancholy blood;But this will cure all streight, one sip of thisWill bathe the drooping spirits in delightBeyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste.———
The Brothers rush in with Swords drawn, wrest hisGlass out of his hand, and break it against theground; his rout make signe of resistance, butare 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 wandAnd bound him fast; without his rod revers't,And backward mutters of dissevering power,We cannot free the Lady that sits hereIn stony fetters fixt, and motionless;Yet stay, be not disturb'd, now I bethink me,Som other means I have which may be us'd.Which once of Melibæus old I learntThe 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.She guiltless damsell flying the mad pursuitOf her enraged stepdam Guendolen,Commended her fair innocence to the floodThat 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 imbatheIn nectar'd lavers strew'd with Asphodil,And through the porch and inlet of each senseDropt in Ambrosial Oils till she reviv'd,And underwent a quick immortal changeMade Goddess of the River, still she retainsHer maid'n gentlenes, and oft at EeveVisits the herds along the twilight meadows,Helping all urchin blasts, and ill luck signesThat the shrewd medling Elfe delights to make,Which she with pretious viold liquors heals.For which the Shepherds at their festivalsCarrol her goodnes lowd in rustick layes,And throw sweet garland wreaths into her streamOf pancies, pinks, and gaudy Daffadils.And, as the old Swain said, she can unlockThe clasping charm, and thaw the numming spell,If she be right invok't in warbled Song,For maid'nhood she loves, and will be swiftTo aid a Virgin, such as was her selfln hard besetting need, this will I tryAnd adde the power of som adjuring verse.
SONG.Sabrina fairListen where thou art sittingUnder the glassie, cool, translucent wave,In twisted braids of Lillies knittingThe loose train of thy amber-dropping hair,Listen for dear honours sake, Goddess of the silver lake, Listen and save.
Listen and appear to usIn name of great Oceanus,By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace,And Tethys grave majestick pace,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 Ligeas golden comb, 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 answer'd have. Listen and save.
Sabrina rises, attended by water-Nymphes, and sings.
By the rushy-fringed bank, Where grows the willow and the Osier dank,My sliding Chariot stayes, Thick set with Agat, and the azurn sheenOf Turkis blew, and Emrauld greenThat in the channell strayes,Whilst from off the waters fleetThus I set my printless feetO're the Cowslips Velvet head,That bends not as I tread,Gentle swain at thy requestI am here.
Spir. Goddess dearWe implore thy powerful handTo undoe the charmed bandOf true virgin here distrest,Through the force, and through the wileOf unblest inchanter vile.
Sab. Shepherd 'tis my office bestTo help insnared chastity;Brightest Lady look on me,Thus I sprinkle on thy brestDrops 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 seatSmear'd with gumms of glutenous heatI touch with chaste palms moist and cold,Now the spell hath lost his hold;And I must haste ere morning hourTo wait in Amphitrite's bowr.
Sabrina descends, and the Lady rises outof her seat.
Spir. Virgin, daughter of LocrineSprung of old Anonises 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 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 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 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 fits monarch yet in the mid sky.
The Scene changes presenting Ludlow Town andthe Presidents Castle, then com in Countrey-Dancers, after them the attendant Spirit, withthe two Brothers and the Lady.
SONG.
Spir. Back Shepherds, back, anough your play, Till next Sun-shine holiday, Here be without duck or nodOther trippings to be trodOf lighter toes, and such Court guiseAs Mercury did first deviseWith the mincing Dryades On the Lawns, and on the Leas.
This second Song presents them to theirfather and mother.
Noble Lord, and Lady bright,I have brought ye new delight,Here behold so goodly grownThree fair branches of your own,Heav'n hath timely tri'd their youth,Their faith, their patience, and their truth.And sent them here through hard assaysWith a crown of deathless Praise,To triumph in victorious danceO're sensual Folly, and Intemperance.
The dances ended, the Spirit Epiloguizes.
Spir. To the Ocean now I fly,And those happy climes that lyWhere day never shuts his eye,Up in the broad fields of the sky:There I suck the liquid ayrAll amidst the Gardens fairOf Hesperus, and his daughters threeThat sing about the golden tree:Along the crisped shades and bowresRevels 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 Nard, and Cassia's balmy smels. Iris there with humid bow,
Waters the odorous banks that blow
Flowers of more mingled hew
Then her purfs'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
In slumber soft, and on the ground
Sadly fits th' Assyrian Queen;
But farr 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.
But now my task is smoothly don,I can fly, or I can runQuickly to the green earths end,Where the bow'd welkin slow doth bend,And from thence can soar as soonTo the corners of the Moon.
Mortals that would follow me,Love vertue, she alone is free,She can teach ye how to climeHigher then the Spheary chime,Or if Vertue feeble were,Heav'n it self would stoop to her.
His 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 tir'd my Pen to give my severall 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
T 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.
Efore the starry threshold of Joves CourtMy mansion is, where those immortal shapesOf bright aëreal Spirits live insphear'dIn 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 beingUnmindfull of the crown that Vertue givesAfter this mortal change, to her true ServantsAmongst the enthron'd gods on Sainted seats.Yet som there be that by due steps aspireTo lay their just hands on that Golden KeyThat 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.
Efore the starry threshold of Joves CourtMy mansion is, where those immortal shapesOf bright aëreal Spirits live insphear'dIn 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 beingUnmindfull of the crown that Vertue givesAfter this mortal change, to her true ServantsAmongst the enthron'd gods on Sainted seats.Yet som there be that by due steps aspireTo lay their just hands on that Golden KeyThat 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.