Part 6 (1/2)
At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound 555 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 honored Lady, your dear sister.
Amazed I stood, harrowed with grief and fear; 565 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 d.a.m.ned 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, 575 Supposing him some neighbor 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.
_Sec. Bro._ O night and shades, 580 How are ye joined with h.e.l.l in triple knot Against the unarmed weakness of one virgin, Alone and helpless! Is this the confidence You gave me, brother?
_Eld. Bro._ Yes, and keep it still; Lean on it safely; not a period 585 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 a.s.sailed, 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 sc.u.m, and settled to itself, 595 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 d.a.m.ned magician, let him be girt With all the griesly legions that troop Under the sooty flag of Acheron, Harpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms 605 '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.
_Spir._ 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 h.e.l.lish charms.
He with his bare wand can unthread thy joints, And crumble all thy sinews.
_Eld. Bro._ Why, prithee, Shepherd, 615 How durst thou then thyself approach so near As to make this relation?
_Spir._ Care and utmost s.h.i.+fts 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 gra.s.s Would sit, and hearken even to ecstasy, 625 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 p.r.i.c.kles 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; 635 And yet more med'cinal is it than that Moly That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave.
He called it Haemony, 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, 645 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 a.s.sault the necromancer's hall; Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood 650 And brandished blade rush on him: break his gla.s.s, 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, 655 Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink.
_Eld. Bro._ Thyrsis, lead on apace; I'll follow thee; And some good angel bear a s.h.i.+eld 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 gla.s.s; 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. 665
_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 675 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 685 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! 695 Hence with thy brewed enchantments, foul deceiver!
Hast thou betrayed my credulous innocence With vizored falsehood and base forgery?
And wouldst 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 appet.i.te. 705
_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 odors, fruits, and flocks, Thronging the seas with sp.a.w.n innumerable, But all to please and sate the curious taste?
And set to work millions of spinning worms, 715 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-wors.h.i.+pped ore and precious gems, To store her children with. If all the world 720 Should, in a fit 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, 725 As a penurious n.i.g.g.ard of his wealth, And live like Nature's b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, not her sons, Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight, And strangled with her waste fertility: The earth c.u.mbered, and the winged air darked with plumes, 730 The herds would over-mult.i.tude 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 735 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 h.o.a.rded, But must be current; and the good thereof 740 Consists in mutual and partaken bliss, Unsavory in the enjoyment of itself.