SPIRIT. Alas, good vent’rous youth,
I love thy courage yet, and bold emprise,895 610
But here thy sword can do thee little stead.896
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!
BROTHER 1. Why prithee, shepherd,
How durst thou then thyself approach so near
As to make this relation?897
SPIRIT. Care and utmost shifts!898
How to secure the lady from surprisal
Brought to my mind a certain shepherd lad
Of small regard899 to see to, yet well skilled
In every virtuous900 plant and healing herb
That spreads her verdant leaf to th’ 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 e’en to ecstasy,
And in requital ope his leathern scrip901
And show me simples902 of a thousand names,
Telling their strange and vigorous faculties.
Amongst the rest a small unsightly root,
But of divine effect, he culled903 me out.
The leaf was darkish and had prickles on it,
But in another country, as he said,
Bore a bright golden flow’r—but not in this soil—
Unknown, and like esteemed—and the dull swain
Treads on it daily with his clouted904 shoon.
And yet more med’cinal is it than that Moly905
Which Hermes906 once to wise Ulysses gave.
He907 called it Haemony, and gave it me,
And bade me keep it as of sov’reign908 use
’Gainst all enchantments, mildew blast,909 or damp,
Or ghastly Furies apparition.910
I pursed it up, but little reck’ning 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-twigs911 of his spells
And yet came off.912 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
And brandished blade rush on him, break his glass
And shed the luscious913 liquor on the ground.
But seize his wand. Though he and his cursed crew
Fierce sign of battle make, and menace high,
Or like the sons of Vulcan vomit smoke,
Yet will they soon retire,914 if he but shrink.915
BROTHER I. Thyrsis, lead on apace.916 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
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 has emmanacled, while Heav’n 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
Brisk as the April buds in primrose season.
And first behold this cordial917 julip,918 here,
That flames and dances in his crystal bounds,919
With spirits of balm and fragrant syrups mixed.
Not that nepenthes920 which the wife of Thon921
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
For gentle usage and soft delicacy?
But you invert the cov’nants922 of her trust,
And harshly deal like an ill borrower
With that which you received on other terms,
Scorning the unexempt 923 condition 924
By which all mortal frailty must subsist,
Refreshment after toil, ease after pain,
And timely rest have wanted. But, fair virgin,
This will restore all soon.926
LADY. ’Twill not, false traitor!
’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 toldst me of? What grim aspects 927 are these,
These ugly-headed monsters? Mercy guard me!
Hence with thy brewed enchantments, foul deceiver!
Hast thou betrayed my credulous innocence
With visored 928 falsehood and base forgeries
And wouldst thou seek again to trap me, here,
With liquorish baits, fit to ensnare a brute?
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 929 doctors of the stoic fur,
And fetch their precepts from the cynic tub,930
Praising the lean and sallow 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 seas with spawn931 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 hutched932 th’ all-worshipped ore and precious gems
To store 933 her children with. If all the world
Should in a pet 934 of temperance feed on pulse,935
Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze,936
Th’ all-giver would be unthanked, would be unpraised,
Not half His riches known, and yet despised,
And we would serve Him as a grudging master,
As a penurious niggard 937 of His wealth,
And live like Nature’s bastards, not her sons,
Who938 would be quite surcharged 939 with her own weight
And strangled with her waste fertility,
Th’ earth cumbered, and the winged air darked with plumes.940
The herds would over-multitude their lords,
The sea o’er-fraught 941 would swell, and th’ unsought diamonds
Would so emblaze the forehead of the deep,
And so be-stud 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 942
With that same vaunted 943 name, virginity.
Beauty is Nature’s coin, must not be hoarded,
But must be current,944 and the good thereof
Consists in mutual and partaken bliss,
Unsavory in th’ 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,945 and must be shown
In courts, at feasts, on high solemnities
Where most may wonder at the workmanship.
It is for homely946 features to keep home:
They had their name thence. Coarse complexions 947
And cheeks of sorry948 grain 949 will serve to ply950
The sampler 951 or to tease 952 the housewife’s wool.
What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that?
Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn?
There was another meaning in those gifts!
Think what, and be advised.953 You are but young yet.
LADY. I had not thought to have unlocked my lips
In this unhallowed air, but 954 that this juggler 955
Would think to charm my judgment as956 mine eyes,
Obtruding957 false rules pranked958 in reason’s garb!
I hate when vice can bolt 959 her arguments
And virtue has no tongue to check her 960 pride.
Impostor! Do not charge961 most innocent Nature,
As if she would962 her children should be riotous
With her abundance! She, good cateress,963
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 beseeming964 share
Of that which lewdly-pampered luxury
Now heaps upon some few with vast excess,
Nature’s full blessings would be well dispensed
In unsuperfluous,965 ev’n proportion,966
And she no whit encumbered with her store.
And then the giver would be better thanked,
His praise due paid—for winish gluttony
N’er looks to Heav’n, amidst his gorgeous967 feast,
But with besotted base ingratitude
Crams, and blasphemes his feeder.
Shall I go on?
Or have I said enough? To him that dares
Arm his profuse 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 968
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
That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence!969
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 sympathize,
And the brute earth would lend her nerves,970 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
Her words, set off by some superior power.
And, though not mortal, yet a cold shudd’ring dew
Dips me all o’er, as when the wrath of Jove
Speaks thunder and the chains of Erebus971
To some of Saturn’s crew. I must dissemble
And try972 her yet more strongly.
Come, no more.
This is mere moral babble and direct
Against the canon laws of our foundation.973
I must not suffer this, yet ’tis but the lees974
And settlings of a melancholy blood.
But this will cure all straight!975 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
makes sign of resistance, but all are driven in. The
attendant spirit comes in.
SPIRIT. What? Have you let the false enchanter scape?
O ye mistook, ye should have snatched his wand
And bound him fast. Without his rod reversed,
And backward mutters of dissevering976 power,
We cannot free the lady that sits here,
In stony fetters fixed and motionless.
Yet stay,977 be not disturbed. Now I bethink me:
Some other means I have which may be used,
Which once of Melibaeus978 old I learned—
The soothest979 shepherd that e’er piped980 on plains.
There is a gentle nymph, not far from hence,
That with moist curb981 sways982 the smooth Severn983 stream.
Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure.
Whilom984 she was the daughter of Locrine,985
That had the scepter from his father Brute.986
She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit
Of her enragèd stepdam, Gwendolen,
Commended her fair innocence to the flood987
That stayed her flight with his cross-flowing course.
The water nymphs that in the bottom988 played
Held up their pearlèd wrists, and took her in,
Bearing her straight to agèd Nereus989 hall,
Who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank990 head
And gave her to his daughters to embathe
In nectared lavers,991 strewn with asphodil,
And through the porch992 and inlet of each sense
Dropped in ambrosial oils, till she revived
And underwent a quick immortal change,
Made goddess of the river. Still she retains
Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve
Visits the herds along the twilight meadows,
Helping all urchin993 blasts994 and ill luck signs
That the shrewd meddling elf delights to make,
Which she with precious vialed liquors heals.
For which the shepherds at their festivals
Carol995 her goodness, loud in rustic lays,996
And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream,
Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils.
And, as the old swain said, she can unlock
The clasping997 charm and thaw the numbing spell,
If she be right invoked in warbled song,
For maidenhood she loves, and will be swift
To aid a virgin such as was herself,
In hard besetting998 need. This will I try
And add the power of some adjuring999 verse.
SONG
Sabrina, fair,
Listen where thou are sitting
Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,
In twisted braids of lillies knitting
The loose train of the amber-dropping hair.
Listen for dear honor’s sake,
Goddess of the silver lake,
Listen and save.
Listen and appear to us
In name of great Oceanus1000 —
By th’ earth-shaking Neptune’s mace,
And Tethys’ grave, majestic pace—
By hoary Nereus’ wrinkled look,
And the Carpathian wizard’s hook—
By scaly Triton’s winding1001 shell,
And old sooth-saying Glaucus’ spell—
By Leucothea’s1002 lovely hands,
And her son that rules the strands1003 —
By Thetis’ tinsel-slippered feet,
And the song
s of Sirens’ sweet—
By dead Parthenope’s1004 dear tomb,
And fair Ligéa’s golden comb,
Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks,
Sleeking her soft, alluring locks—
By all the nymphs that nightly dance
Upon thy streams, with wily1005 glance!
Rise, rise, and heave1006 thy rosy head
From thy coral-paven bed,
And bridle1007 in thy headlong wave
Till thou our summons answered have.
Listen and save.
Sabrina rises, attended by water-nymphs, and sings:
By the rushy-fringèd bank,
Where grows the willow and the osier dank,
My sliding chariot stays,
Thick set with agate and the azure sheen
Of turquoise blue, and emerald green
That in the channel strays,
Whilst from off the waters fleet 1008
Thus I set my printless feet
O’er the cowslips’ velvet head,
That bends not as I tread.
Gentle swain, at thy request
I am here.
SPIRIT. Goddess dear,
We implore thy powerful hand
To undo the charmèd band1009
Of true virgin, here distressed1010
Through the force and through the wile
Of unblessed enchanter vile.
SABRINA. Shepherd, it is my office1011 best
To help ensnarèd chastity.
Brightest lady, look on me!
Thus I sprinkle on thy breast
Drops that from my fountain pure
I have kept, of precious cure.1012
Thrice upon thy finger’s tip,
Thrice upon thy rubied lip!
Next, this marble-venomed seat
Smeared with gums1013 of glutinous 1014 heat
I touch with chaste palms, moist and cold.
Now the spell hath lost his hold—
And I must haste, ere morning hour,
To wait 1015 in Amphitrite’s 1016 bow’r.
Sabrina descends, and the lady rises out of her seat.
SPIRIT. Virgin, daughter of Locrine,
Sprung of old Anchises’1017 line,
May thy brimmèd waves, for this,
Their full tribute never miss
From a thousand petty1018 rills1019
That tumble down the snowy hills.
Summer drought or singèd air
Never scorch thy tresses fair,
Nor wet October’s torrent flood
Thy molten crystal fill1020 with mud.
May thy billows roll ashore
The beryl1021 and the golden ore.
May thy lofty head be crowned
With many a tow’r and terrace round,
And here and there thy banks upon