Enter'd the very lime-twigs of his fpells,
And yet came off: if you have this about you, (As I will give you when we go) you may Boldly affault the necromancer's hall;
Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood,
And brandish'd blade, rush on him, break his glass,
And shed the luscious liquor on the ground,
But feife his wand; though he and his curs'd crew
Fierce fign of battel make, and menace high,
Or like the fons of Vulcan vomit smoke,
Yet will they foon retire, if he but shrink.
1 BRO. Thyrfis, lead on apace, I'll follow thee, And fome good Angel bear a fhield before us!
The Scene changes to a stately palace, fet out with all manner of deliciousness: foft mufic, tables fpread 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 rife.
COм. Nay, Lady, fit; if I but wave this wand, Your nerves 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 mind
With all thy charms, although this corporal rind
Thou haft immanacled, while Heav'n fees good. 665
COM. Why
COм. Why are you vext, 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 Brifk as the April buds in primrose-feafon. And first behold this cordial julep here,
That flames, and dances in his crystal bounds,
With fpirits of balm, and fragrant fyrups mix'd.
Not that Nepenthes, which the wife of Thone
In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena,
Is of fuch power to stir up joy as this,
To life fo friendly, or so cool to thirst.
Why fhould you be fo cruel to yourself,
And to thofe dainty limbs which Nature lent
For gentle ufage, and foft delicacy?
That have been tir'd all day without repast,
And timely rest have wanted; but, fair Virgin,
This will restore all foon.
LA. 'Twill not, false traitor,
"Twill not restore the truth and honesty
That thou haft banish'd from thy tongue with lies.
Was this the cottage, and the safe abode
Thou toldft me of? What grim aspects are these,
Thefe ugly-headed monfters? Mercy guard me!
Hence with thy brew'd inchantments, foul deceiver;
Haft thou betray'd my credulous innocence
With vifor'd falfhood, and base forgery?
And would'ft thou feek again to trap me here
With liquorish baits fit to infnare a brute ?
Were it a draft for Juno when she banquets,
I would not taste thy treasonous offer; none
But fuch 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.
COм. O fcolishness of men! that lend their ears
To thofe budge doctors of the Stoic fur,
And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub,
Praifing the lean and fallow Abstinence.
Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth,
With such a full and unwithdrawing hand,
Covering the earth with odors, fruits, and flocks,
Thronging the feas with spawn innumerable,
But all to please, and fate the curious taste?
And set to work millions of spinning worms,
That in their green shops weave the smooth-hair'd filk
To deck her fons, and, that no corner might
Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins
She hutcht th' all-worshipt ore, and precious gems
To ftore her children with: if all the world
Should in a pet of temperance feed on pulse,
Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze,
Th' all-giver would be' unthank'd, 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 Nature's baftards, not her fons,
Who would be quite furcharg'd with her own weight, And ftrangled with her waste fertility,
Th'earth cumber'd, and the wing'd air darkt with plumes, The herds would over-multitude their lords,
The fea o'erfraught would fwell, and th' unfought diamonds
Would fo imblaze the forehead of the deep,
And fo bestud with stars, that they below
Would
grow inur'd to light, and come at last
To gaze upon the fun with shameless brows.
Lift, Lady, be not coy, and be not cofen'd
With that fame vaunted name Virginity.
Beauty is Nature's coin, must not be horded,
But must be current, and the good thereof
Confifts in mutual and partaken bliss,
Unfavory in th' enjoyment of itself;
you let flip time, like a neglected rofe
It withers on the ftalk with languish'd head.
Beauty is nature's brag, and must be shown
In courts, in 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
The fampler, and to tease the huswife's wool.
What need a vermeil-tin&tur'd lip for that,
Love-darting eyes, or treffes like the morn?
There was another meaning in these gifts,
Think what, and be advis'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 judgment, as mine eyes,
Obtruding false rules prankt in reason's garb.
I hate when vice can bolt her arguments,
And virtue has no tongue to check her pride.
Impoftor, do not charge most innocent Nature,
As if she would her children fhould be riotous
With her abundance; fhe, good caterefs,
Means her provifion only to the good,
That live according to her sober laws,
And holy dictate of fpare temperance:
If every juft man, that now pines with want,
Had but a moderate and beseeming share
Of that which lewdly-pamper'd luxury
Now heaps upon some few with vaft excess,
Nature's full bleffings would be well difpens'd
In unfuperfluous even proportion,
And she no whit incumber'd with her store,
And then the giver would be better thank'd,
His praise due paid; for swinish gluttony
Ne'er looks to Heav'n amidst his gorgeous feast,
But with befotted base ingratitude
Crams, and blafphemes his feeder. Shall I go on?
Or have I faid enough? To him that dares
Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words
Against the fun-clad power of Chastity,
Fain would 1 fomething say, yet to what end?
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