# Comus (Milton)

facsimile of the first edition of 1637, printed in 1903.
Layout 2
Dodd, Mead & Company's
Facsimile Reprints of Rare Books
Literature Series, No. I
Milton's "Comus," 1637
This Edition is limited to Five Hundred and Twenty Copies, of which Twenty are on Japan paper
COMUS
"A Maske Presented at Ludlow Castle, 1634"
By JOHN MILTON
Reproduced in Facsimile from the First Edition of 1637
With an Introductory Note by
Luther Samuel Livingston
NEW YORK DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 1903
Introductory Note
MILTON'S little play Comus, the first edition of which is herewith reproduced in facsimile, is the author's first book and, after Paradise Lost, is considered his most important work. In this first edition, as will be seen, it is called simply "A Maske presented at Ludlow Castle," etc., and in the two collected editions of Milton's minor Poems published during his lifetime, the first in 1645 and the second in 1673, the title is the same. Comus, the name of one of the principal characters, was, it seems, given to the "Maske" by some later editor.
At the time Comus was written and acted, "1634, on Michaelmasse Night," the 29th of September, Milton was in his twenty-sixth year. Although he had already written a number of pieces both in English and Latin, only one had, apparently, been printed. This was his little poem of sixteen lines, An Epitaph on the Admirable Dramatick Poet, W. Shakespeare, which is found, but without author's name, among the prefatory verses in the Second Folio, printed in 1632.
Even when this little play was printed in 1637 Milton seems to have been diffident about acknowledging the authorship. It was very probably printed with his permission, as the motto on the title, from Virgil, was evidently selected by him. Masson paraphrases this:
"Ah! wretched and undone! Myself to have brought The wind among my flowers"
The dedication, it will be noticed, is written and signed by H. Lawes, whose reason for printing is said to be "that ​the often copying of it hath tir'd my pen to give my severall friends satisfaction." This Lawes was one of the most famous composers of music of the time in England, and it was under his direction and to his music that the "Maske" was produced at Ludlow Castle. The occasion was the celebration of the entry of the Earl of Bridgewater upon the Welsh Presidency, and the place was the Great Hall of Ludlow Castle, in which, according to tradition, the elder of the two Princes murdered in the Tower had been proclaimed King, with the title of Edward V, before commencing his fatal journey to London.
The play contains six speaking parts only. Of these, the most important, "The Attendant Spirit," was taken by Lawes, the director of the play and author of the music. The part of "The Lady" was taken by Lady Alice Egerton, youngest daughter of the Earl, then about fifteen years of age. The parts of the "Elder Brother" and the "Second Brother" were played by the two younger brothers of Lady Alice, Viscount Brackley, to whom this printed edition is dedicated, and Mr. Thomas Egerton. These two young noblemen had already had a taste of stage acting, having taken juvenile parts in Carew's Coelum Britannicum, which had been performed the previous February in the royal Banqueting-house at Whitehall, in which the King himself, Charles I, took part.
The stage-copy, or one of them, perhaps in Lawes' own autograph, is still preserved in the library at Bridgewater House, and the music of five of the six songs, in Lawes' own autograph, is in the British Museum.
An earlier draft of the poem in Milton's own handwriting is preserved in the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge, in that precious thin folio of forty-six pages (besides eight blank pages), mostly in Milton's own hand, and containing all but a few of the minor English Poems.
The first edition is, needless to say, very rare, only one copy having been offered at auction in America. That, a fine one, bound by Matthews, brought $425.00 in the Ives ​sale in 1891. A copy sold at Sotheby's in 1894, in the sale of the library of Sir Joseph Hawley, brought £123, and another in 1899, from the library of the Rev. William Makellar, brought £150. This latter copy is now in the library of Mr. E. D. Church, of New York city. We are indebted to him for the privilege of making this facsimile.
L. S. L.
A MASKE
PRESENTED
At Ludlow Castle,
1634:
On Michaelmasse night, before the Right Honorable,
Iohn Earle of Bridgewater, Vicount Brackly, Lord Præsident of Wales, And one of His Maiesties most honorable Privie Counsell.
Eheu quid volui misero mihi: floribus austrum Perditus ——————
LONDON,
Printed for Hvmphrey Robinson, at the signe of the Three Pidgeons in Pauls Church-yard. 1637.
TO THE RIGHT
HONORABLE,
IOHN Lord Vicount BRACLY,
Son and heire apparent to the Earle, of Bridgewater, &c.
    My Lord,
His Poem, which receiv'd its first occasion of birth from your selfe, and others of your noble familie, and much honour from your own Person in the performance, now returns againe to make a finall dedication of it selfe 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 neceßitie of producing it to the publick view; and now to offer it up in all rightfull devotion to those faire 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 houour of your Name, and receive this as your owne, from the hands of him, who hath by many favours beene long oblig'd to your most honour'd Parents, and as in this repræsentation your attendant Thyrsis, so now in all reall expreßion
Your faithfull, and most
humble Servant,
H. Lavves.
A MASKE PERFORMED BEFORE the Præsident of Wales at Ludlow, 1634.
The first Scene discovers a wild wood.
The attendant Spirit descends or enters.
BEfore the starrie threshold of Ioves Court My mansion is, where those immortall shapes Of bright aëreall Spirits live insphear'd In Regions mild of calme and serene aire, Above the smoake and stirre 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 keepe up a fraile, and feaverish being Vnmindfull of the crowne that Vertue gives After this mortall change to her true Servants Amongst the enthron'd gods on Sainted seats. Yet some there be that by due steps aspire
To lay their just hands on that golden key That ope's the palace of Æternity: To such my errand is, and but for such I would not soile these pure ambrosial weeds With the ranck vapours of this Sin-worne mould. But to my task. Neptune besides the sway Of every salt Flood, and each ebbing Streame Tooke in my lot'twixt high, and neather Iove Imperial rule of all the Sea-girt Iles That like to rich, and various gemms inlay The unadorned bosome of the Deepe, Which he to grace his tributarie gods By course commits to severall government And gives them leave to weare their Saphire crowns, And weild their little tridents, but this Ile The greatest, and the best of all the maine He quarters to his blu-hair'd deities, And all this tract that fronts the falling Sun A noble Peere of mickle trust, and power Has in his charge, with temper'd awe to guide An old, and haughtie Nation proud in Armes: Where his faire off-spring nurs'r in Princely lore Are comming to attend their Fathers state, And new-entrusted Seepter, but their way Lies through the perplex't paths of this dreare wood, The nodding horror of whose shadie brows Threats the forlorne and wandring Passinger. And here their tender age might suffer perill But that by qu ck command from Soveraigne Iove I was dispatcht for their defence, and guard, And listen why, for I will tell yee now What never yet was heard in Tale or Song
From old, or moderne bard, in hall, or bowre. Bacchus, that first from out the purple Grape Crush't the sweet poyson of mis-used Wine After the Tuscan mariners transform'd Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed, On Circes iland fell (who knowes not Circe The daughter of the Sun? whose charmed Cup Whoever tasted lost his upright shape, And downward fell into a grovling Swine) This Nymph, that gaz'd upon his clustring locks With Ivie berries wreath'd, and his blith youth, Had by him, ere he parted thence, a Son Much like his Father, but his mother more, Whom therefore she brought up, and Comus nam'd, Who ripe, and frolick of his full growne 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 mightie Art Offring to every wearie Travailer His orient liquor in a Chrystall glasse To quench the drouth of Phœbus, which as they tast (For most doe tast through fond intemperate thirst) Soone as the Potion works, their humane count'nance Th' expressr resemblance of the gods is chang'd Into some brutish forme of Wolfe, or Beare Or Ounce, or Tiger, Hog, or bearded Goat, All other parts remaining as they were, And they, so perfect in their miserie, Not once perceive their foule disfigurement, But boast themselves more comely then before And all their friends; and native home forget
To roule with pleasure in a sensuall stie. Therefore, when any favour'd of high Iove Chances to passe through this adventrous glade, Swift as the Sparkle of a glancing Starre I shoote from heav'n, to giue him safe convoy, As now I doe: But first I must put off These my skie robes spun out of Iris wooffe, And take the weeds and likenesse of a Swaine, That to the service of this house belongs, Who with his soft Pipe, and smooth-dittied Song, Well knows to still the wild winds when they roare, And hush the waving woods, nor of lesse faith, And in this office of his Mountaine watch, Likeliest, and neerest to the present aide Of this occasion. But I heare the tread Of hatefull steps. I must be viewlesse now.
Comus enters, with a Charming rod in one hand, his Glasse in the other, with him a rout of Monsters headed like sundry sorts of wilde Beasts, but otherwise like Men and Women, their apparell glistring, they come iu making a riotous and unruly noise, with Torches in their hands.
Comus. The starre that bids the Shepheard fold, Now the top of heav'n doth hold, And the gilded Carre of Day His glowing Axle doth allay, In the steepe Atlantik streame, And the slope Sun his upward beame Shoots against the duskie Pole, Pacing toward the other gole
Of his Chamber in the east. Meane while welcome Joy, and Feast, Midnight shout, and revelrie, Tipsie dance, and Jollitie. Braid your Locks with rosie Twine, Dropping odours, dropping Wine. Rigor now is gone to bed, And Advice with scrupulous head, Strict Age, and sowre Severitie With their graue Sawes in slumber lie. We that are of purer fire, Immitate the starrie quire, Who in their nightly watchfull Spheares, Lead in swift round the Months and Yeares. The Sounds, and Seas with all their finnie drove, Now to the Moone in wavering Morrice move, And on the tawny sands and shelves, Trip the pert Fairies and the dapper Elves; By dimpled Brooke, and Fountaine brim, The Wood-nymphs deckt with daisiestrim, Their merry wakes, and pastimes keepe, What hath night to doe with sleepe? Night hath better sweets to prove, Venus now wakes, and wakens Love. Come let us our rights begin 'Tis onely day-light that makes Sin Which these dun shades will ne're report. Hail Goddesse of Nocturnall sport Dark-vaild Cotytto, t'whom the secret flame Of mid night Torches burnes; mysterious Dame That ne're at call'd, but when the Dragon woome Of Stygian darknesse spets her thickest gloome
And makes one blot of all the aire, Stay thy clowdie Ebon chaire, Wherein thou rid'st with Hecat', and befriend Vs thy vow'd Priests, till utmost end Of all thy dues be done, and none left out, Ere the blabbing Easterne scout The nice Morne on th' Indian steepe From her cabin'd loop hole peepe, And to the tel-tale Sun discry Our conceal'd Solemnity. Come, knit hands, and beate the ground In a light fantastick round.
The Measure.
Breake off, breake off, I feele the different pace Of some chast footing neere about this ground, Run to your shrouds, within these Brakes, and Trees Our number may affright: Some Virgin sure (For so I can distinguish by mine Art) Benighted in these woods. Now to my charmes And to my wilie trains, I shall e're long Be well stock't with as faire a Herd as graz'd About my mother Circe. Thus I hurle My dazling Spells into the spungie aire Of power to cheate the eye with bleare illusion, And give it false presentments, lest the place And my queint habits breed astonishment, And put the Damsel to suspicious flight, Which must not be, for that's against my course; I under faire prætents of friendly ends, And wel plac't words of glozing courtesie Baited with reasons not unplausible,
Wind me into the easie hearted man, And hug him into snares; when once her eye Hath met the vertue of this Magick dust, I shall appeare some harmlesse Villager Whom thrift keepes up about his Country geare But here she comes, I fairly step aside And hearken, if I may, her buisnesse here.
The Ladie enters.
This way the noise was, if mine eare be true My best guide now, me thought it was the sound Of Riot, and ill manag'd Merriment, Such as the jocund Flute, or gamesome Pipe Stirs up among the loose unleter'd Hinds When for their teeming Flocks, and granges full In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan, And thanke the gods amisse. I should be loath To meet the rudenesse and swill'd insolence Of suoh late Wassailers; yet ô where else Shall I informe my unacquainted feet 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 Stept as they se'd, 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 gray-hooded Ev'n Like a sad Votarist in Palmers weeds Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phœbus waine. 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 darknesse, e're they could returne, Had stolne them from me, else ô theevish Night Why shouldst thou, but for some fellonious end In thy darke lanterne thus close up the Stars, That nature hung in Heav'n, and fill'd their lamps With everlasting oile to give due light To the misled, and lonely Travailer. This is the place, as well a I may guesse Whence even now the tumult of loud Mirth Was rife, and perfect in my listening eare, Yet nought but single darknesse doe I find, What might this be? A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memorie Of calling shapes, and beckning shadows dire, And ayrie 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 welcome pure-ey'd Faith, white-handed Hope Thou flittering Angel girt with golden wings, And thou unblemish't forme of Chastitie I see yee visibly, and now beleeve That he, the Supreme good, t'whom all things ill Are but as slavish officers of vengeance Would send a glistring Guardian if need were To keepe my life, and honour unassail'd. Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud Turne forth her silver lining on the night? I did not erre, there does a sables cloud Turne forth her silver lining on the night
And casts a gleame over this tufted Grove. I cannot hallow to my Brothers, but Such noise as I can make to be heard fardest I'll venter, for my new enliv'nd spirits Prompt me; and they perhaps are not farre off.
Song.
Sweet echo, sweetest nymph that liv'st unseene Within thy ayrie shell By slow Meander's margent greene, And in the violet-imbroider'd vale Where the love-lorne Nightingale Nightly to thee her sad Song mourneth well.
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle Paire That likest thy Narcissus are? O, if thou have Hid them in some flowrie Cave, Tell me but where Sweet Queen of Parlie, Daughter of the Sphere, So maist thou be translated to the skies, And give resounding grace to all Heav'ns Harmonies.
Com. Can any mortall mixture of Earths mould Breath such Divine inchanting ravishment? Sure something holy lodges in that brest, And with these raptures moves the vocal aire To testifie his hidden residence; How sweetly did they float upon the wings Of Silence, through the emptie-vaulted night At every fall smoothing the Raven downe Of darknesse till she smil'd: I have oft heard
My mother Circe with the Sirens three Amidst the flowrie-kirtl'd Naiades Culling their Potent hearbs, and balefull drugs Who as they sung, would take the prison'd soule 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 madnesse rob'd it of it selfe, But such a sacred, and home-felt delight, Such sober certainty of waking blisse I never heard till now. Ile speake to her And she shall be my Queene. Haile forreine wonder Whom certaine these rough shades did never breed Vnlesse the Goddesse that in rurall shrine Dwell'st here with Pan, or Silvan, by blest Song Forbidding every bleake unkindly Fog To touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood. La. Nay gentle Shepherd, ill is lost that praise That is addrest to unattending Eares, Not any boast of skill, but extreame shift How to regaine my sever'd companie Compell'd me to awake the courteous Echo To give me answer from her mossie Couch. Co. What chance good Ladie hath bereft you thus? La. Dim darknesse, and this leavie Labyrinth. Co. Could that divide you from neere-ushering guides? La. They left me weary on a grassie terfe. Co. By falshood, or discourtesie, or why? La. To seeke i'th vally some cool friendly Spring. Co. And left your faire side all unguarded Ladie? La. They were but twain, & purpos'd quick return.
Co. Perhaps fore-stalling night prævented them. La. How easie my misfortune is to hit! Co. Imports their losse, beside the præsent need? La. No lesse than if I should my brothers lose. Co. Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom? La. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazord lips. Co. Two such I saw, what time the labour'd Oxe In his loose traces from the furrow came, And the swink't hedger at his Supper sate; I saw them under a greene mantling vine That crawls along the side of yon small hill, Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots, Their port was more then humaine; as they stood, I tooke it for a faërie vision Of some gay creatures of the element That in the colours of the Rainbow live And play i'th plighted clouds, I was aw-strooke, And as I past, I worshipt; if those you seeke It were a journy like the path to heav'n To helpe you find them.La. Gentle villager What readiest way would bring me to that place? Co. Due west it rises from this shrubbie point. La. To find out that good shepheard I suppose In such a scant allowance of starre light Would overtask the best land-pilots art Without the sure guesse of well-practiz'd feet. Co. I know each lane, and every alley greene Dingle, or bushie dell of this wild wood, And every boskie bourne from side to side My daylie walks and ancient neighbourhood, And if your stray attendance be yet lodg'd Or shroud within these limits, I shall know
Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted larke From her thatch't palate rowse, if otherwise I can conduct you Ladie to a low But loyall cottage, where you may be safe Till further quest.La. Shepheard I take thy word, And trust thy honest offer'd courtesie, Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds With smoakie rafters, then in tapstrie halls, And courts of Princes, where it first was nam'd, And yet is most prætended: in a place Lesse warranted then this, or lesse secure I cannot be, that I should feare to change it, Eye me blest Providence, and square my triall To my proportion'd strength. Shepheard, lead on.—
The two Brothers.
Eld bro. Vnmuffle, yee faint stars, and thou fair moon That wontst to love the travailers benizon Stoope thy pale visage through an amber cloud And disinherit Chaos, that raigns here In double night of darknesse, and of shades; Or if your influence be quite damm'd 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 levell'd rule of streaming light And thou shalt be our starre of Arcadie Or Tyrian Cynosure.2 Bro. Or if our eyes Be barr'd that happinesse, might we but heare The folded flocks pen'd in their watled cotes, Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops, Or whistle from the Lodge, or village cock
Count the night watches to his featherie Dames, T' would be some solace yet, some little chearing In this close dungeon of innumerous bowes.
But ô that haplesse virgin our lost sister Where may she wander now, whether betake her From the chill dew, amongst rude burs and thistles? Perhaps some cold banke is her boulster now Or 'gainst the rugged barke of some broad Elme Leans her unpillow'd head fraught with sad fears. What if in wild amazement, and affright Or while we speake within the direfull graspe Of Savage hunger, or of Savage heat? Eld. bro. Peace brother, be not over exquisite To cast the fashion of uncertaine evils, For grant they be so, while they rest unknowne What need a man forestall his date of griefe And run to meet what he would most avoid? Or if they be but false alarms of Feare How bitter is such selfe-delusion? I doe not thinke my sister so to seeke Or so unprincipl'd in vertues book And the sweet peace that goodnesse bosoms 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 calme thoughts And put them into mis-becomming plight. Vertue could see to doe what vertue would By her owne radiant light, though Sun and Moon Were in the flat Sea sunck, and Wisdoms selfe 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 ruffl'd, and sometimes impair'd. He that has light within his owne cleere brest May sit i'th center, and enjoy bright day, But he that hides a darke soule, and foule thoughts Benighted walks under the mid-day Sun, Himselfe is his owne dungeon. 2. Bro. 'Tis most true That musing meditation most affects The Pensive secrecie of desert cell Farre from the cheerefull haunt of men, and heards, And sits as safe as in a Senat house For who would rob an Hermit of his weeds His few books, or his beades, or maple dish, Or doe his gray hairs any violence? But beautie like the faire Hesperian tree Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard Of dragon watch with uninchanted eye To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit From the rash hand of bold Incontinence. You may as well spread out the unsun'd heaps Of misers treasure by an outlaws den And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope Danger will winke on opportunitie And let a single helplesse mayden passe Vninjur'd in this wild surrounding wast. Of night, or lonelynesse it recks me not I feare the dred events that dog them both, lest some ill greeting touch attempt the person Of our unowned sifter. Eld. Bro. I doe not brother Inferre, as if I thought my sisters state
Secure without all doubt, or controversie: Yet where an equall poise of hope, and feare Does arbitrate th'event, my nature is That I incline to hope, rather than feare And gladly banish squint suspicion. My sister is not so defencelesse left As you imagine, she has a hidden strength Which you remember not. 2. Bro. What hidden strength Vnlesse the strength of heav'n, if meane that? Eld. Bro. I meane that too, but yet a hidden strength Which if heav'n gave it, may be term'd her owne: 'Tis chastitie, my brother, chastitie: She that has that, is clad in compleat steele, And like a quiver'd nymph with arrowes keene May trace huge forrests, and unharbour'd heaths Infamous hills, and sandie perillous wilds Where through the sacred rays of chastitie No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaneete Will dare to soyle her virgin puritie Yea there, where very desolation dwells By grots, and caverns shag'd with horrid shades She may passe on with unblench't majestie Be it not done in pride, or in presumption. Some say no evill thing that walks by night In fog, or fire, by lake or moorish fen Blew meagre hag, or stubborne unlayd ghost That breaks his magicke chaines at curfeu time No goblin, or swart Faërie of the mine Has hurtfull power ore true virginity. Doe yee beleeve me yet, or shall I call Antiquity from the old schools of Greece
To testifie the armes of Chastitie? Hence had the huntresse Dian her dred bow Faire silver-shafted Queene for ever chast Wherewith we tam'd the brinded lionesse And spotted mountaine pard, but set at nought The frivolous bolt of Cupid, gods and men Fear'd her sterne frowne, & she was queen oth' woods. What was that snakie headed Gorgon sheild That wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin Wherewith she freez'd her foes to congeal'd stone? But rigid looks of Chast austeritie And noble grace that dash't brute violence With sudden adoration, and blancke aw. So deare to heav'n is saintly chastitie That when a soule is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackie her Driving farre off each thing of sinne, and guilt, And in cleere dreame, and solemne vision Tell her of things that no grosse eare can heare, Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants Begin to cast a beame on th' outward shape The unpolluted temple of the mind And turnes it by degrees to the souls essence Till all bee made immortall; but when lust By unchast looks, loose gestures, and foule talke But most by leud, and lavish act of sin Lets in defilement to the inward parts, The soule growes clotted by contagion, Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite loose The divine propertie of her first being. Such are those thick, and gloomie shadows damp Oft seene in Charnell vaults, and Sepulchers
Hovering, and sitting by a new made grave As loath to leave the body that it lov'd, And link'd it selfe by carnall sensualtie To a degenerate and degraded state. 2 Bro. How charming is divine Philosophie! Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musicall as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetuall feast of nectar'd sweets Where no crude surfet raigns.El. bro. List, list I heare Some farre off hallow breake the silent aire. 2 Bro. Me thought so too, what should it be? Eld. bro. For certaine Either some one like us night founder'd here, Or else some neighbour wood man, or at worst Some roaving robber calling to his fellows. 2 Bro. Heav'n keepe my sister, agen agen, and neere, 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 shepheard.
That hallow I should know, what are you, speake, Come not too neere, you fall on iron stakes else. Spir. What voice is that, my yong Lord? speak agen. 2 Bro. O brother 'tis my father Shepheard sure. Eld. bro. Thyrsis? whose artfull strains have oft delayd The huddling brook to heare his madrigale, And sweeten'd every muskrose of the dale, How cam'st thou here good Swaine, hath any ram Slip't from the fold, or yong kid lost his dam, Or straggling weather the pen't flock forsook,
How couldst thou find this darke sequester'd nook? Spir. O my lov'd masters heire, and his next joy I came not here on such a triviall toy As a strayd Ewe, or to pursue the stealth Of pilfering wolfe, not all the fleecie wealth That doth enrich these downs is worth a thought To this my errand, and the care it brought. But ô my virgin Ladie where is she, How chance she is not in your companie? Eld bro. To tell thee sadly shepheard, without blame Or our neglect, wee lost her as wee came. Spir. Aye me unhappie then my fears are true. Eld bro. What fears, good Thyrsis? prethee briefly shew. Spir. Ile tell you, 'tis not vaine, or fabulous (Though so esteemd by shallow ignorance) What the sage Poëts taught by th'heavenly Muse Storied of old in high immortall verse Of dire Chimera's and inchanted Iles And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to hell, For such there be, but unbeliefe is blind. Within the navill of this hideous wood Immur'd in cypresse shades a Sorcerer dwells Of Bacchus, and of Circe borne, great Comus, Deepe skill'd in all his mothers witcheries, And here to every thirstie wanderer By slie enticement gives his banefull cup With many murmurs mixt, whose pleasing poison The visage quite transforms of him that drinks, And the inglorious likenesse of a beast Fixes instead, unmoulding reasons mintage Character'd in the face; this have I learn't Tending my flocks hard by i'th hilly crofts
That brow this bottome glade, whence night by night He and his monstrous rout are heard to howle Like stabl'd wolves, or tigers at their prey Doing abhorred rites to Hecate In their obscured haunts of inmost bowres. Yet have they many baits, and guilefull spells T'inveigle, and invite th'unwarie sense Of them that passe unweeting by the way. This evening late by then the chewing flocks Had ta'ne their supper on the savourie herbe Of Knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold I sate me downe to watch upon a bank With ivie canopied, and interwove With flaunting hony-suckle, and began Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy To meditate my rural minstrelsie Till fancie had her fill, but ere a close The wonted roare was up amidst the woods, And filld the aire with barbarous dissonance At which I ceas't, and listen'd them a while Till an unusuall stop of sudden silence Gave respit to the drowsie frighted steeds That draw the litter of close-curtain'd sleepe. At last a soft, and solemne breathing sound Rose like a steame of rich distill'd Perfumes And stole upon the aire, that even Silence Was tooke e're she was ware, and wish't she might Deny her nature, and be never more Still to be so displac't. I was all eare, And took in strains that might create a soule Vnder the ribs of Death, but ô ere long Too well I did perceive it was the voice
Of my most honour'd Lady your deare sister. Amaz d I stood, harrow'd with griefe and feare, And ô poore haplesse nightingale thought I How sweet thou sing'st, how neere the deadly snare! Then downe the lawns I ran with headlong hast Through paths, and turnings often trod by day Till guided by mine eare I found the place Where that dam d wisard hid in slie disguise (For so by certain signs I knew) had met Alreadie, ere my best speed could prævent The aidlesse innocent Ladie his wish't prey, Who gently ask't if he had seene such two Supposing him some neighbour villager; Longer I durst not stay, but soone I guess't Yee were the two she mean't, with that I sprung Into swift flight till I had found you here, But farther know I not.2 Bro. O night and shades How are yee joyn'd with hell in triple knot Against th'unarmed weaknesse of one virgin Alone, and helplesse! is this the confidence You gave me brother?Eld. bro. Yes, and keep it still, Leane on it safely, not a period Shall be unsaid for me, against the threats Of malice or of sorcerie, or that power Which erring men call Chance, this I hold firme, Vertue may be assail'd, but never hurt, Surpriz'd by unjust force, but not enthrall'd, Yea even that which mischiefe meant most harme, Shall in the happie triall prove most glorie. But evill on it selfe shall backe recoyle And mixe no more with goodnesse, when at last Gather'd like scum, and setl'd to it selfe
It shall bee in eternall restlesse change Selfe fed, and selfe consum'd. If this faile The pillar'd firmament is rottennesse, And earths base built on stubble. But come, let's on Against th' opposing will and arme of heav'n May never this just sword be lifted up, But for that damn'd magician, let him be girt With all the greisly legions that troope Vnder the sootie flag of Acheron, Harpyies and Hydra's, or all the monstrous bugs 'Twixt Africa, and Inde, Ile find him out And force him to restore his purchase backe Or drag him by the curles, and cleave his scalpe Downe to the hipps. Spir. Alas good ventrous youth, I love thy courage yet, and bold Emprise, But here thy sword can doe thee little stead, Farre other arms, and other weapons must Be those that quell the might of hellish charms, He with his bare wand can unthred thy joynts And crumble all thy sinewes. Eld. Bro. Why prethee shepheard How durst thou then thy selfe approach so neere As to make this relation? Spir. Care and utmost shifts How to secure the Ladie from surprisall Brought to my mind a certaine shepheard lad Of small regard to see to, yet well skill'd In every vertuous plant, and healing herbe That spreds her verdant leafe to th' morning ray, He lov'd me well, and oft would beg me sing, Which when I did, he on the tender grasse
Would sit, and hearken even to extasie, And in requitall ope his leather'n scrip, And shew me simples of a thousand names Telling their strange, and vigorous faculties, Amongst the rest a small unsightly root, But of divine effect, he cull'd me out; The leafe was darkish, and had prickles on it, But in another Countrie, as he said, Bore a bright golden flowre, but not in this soyle: Vnknowne, and like esteem'd, and the dull swayne Treads on it dayly with his clouted shoone, And yet more med'cinall is it then that Moly That Hermes once to wise Vlysses gave, He called it Hæmony, and gave it me And bad me keepe it as of soveraine use Gainst all inchantments, mildew blast, or damp, Or 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 means I knew the foule inchanter though disguis'd, Enter'd the very limetwigs of his spells, And yet came off, if you have this about you (As I will give you when wee goe) you may Boldly assault the necromancers hall, Where if he be, with dauntlesse hardihood And brandish't blade rush on him, breake his glasse, And shed the luscious liquor on the ground But sease his wand, though he and his curst crew Feirce signe of battaile make, and menace high, Or like the sons of Vulcan vomit smoake, Yet will they soone retire, if he but shrinke
Eld. Bro. Thyrsis lead on apace Ile follow thee, And some good angell beare a sheild before us.
The Scene Changes to a stately palace set out with all manner of delicionsnesse, soft musicke, tables spred with all dainties. Comus appeares with his rabble, and the Ladie set in an inchanted chaire to whom he offers his glasse, which she puts by, and goes about to rise.
Comus. Nay Ladie sit; if I but wave this wand, Your nervs are all chain'd up in alablaster, And you a statue; or as Daphne was Rootbound that fled Apollo. La. Foole doe not boast, Thou canst not touch the freedome of my mind Withall thy charms, although this corporall rind Thou hast immanacl'd, while heav'n sees good. Co. Why are you vext Ladie, why doe you frowne; Here dwell no frowns, nor anger, from these gates Sorrow flies farre: see here be all the pleasurs That fancie can beget on youthfull thoughts When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns Brisk as the April buds in primrose season. And first behold this cordial julep here That flames, and dances in his crystall bounds With spirits of balme, and fragrant syrops mixt. Not that Nepenthes which the wife of Thone In Ægypt gave to Iove borne Helena Is of such power to stirre up joy as this, To life so friendly, or so coole to thirst. Why should you be so cruelle to your selfe,
And to those daintie limms which nature lent For gentle usage, and soft delicacie? But you invert the cov'nants of her trust, And harshly deale like an ill borrower With that which you receiv'd on other termes, Scorning the unexempt condition, By which all mortall frailty must subsist, Refreshment after toile, ease after paine, That have been tir'd all day without repast, And timely rest have wanted, but faire virgin This will restore all soone. La. T'will not false traitor, T'will not restore the truth and honestie That thou hast banish't 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? Mercie guard me! Hence with thy brewd inchantments foule deceiver, Hast thou betray'd my credulous innocence With visor'd falshood, and base forgerie, And wouldst thou seek againe to trap me here With lickerish baits fit to ensnare a brute? Were it a draft for Iuno when she banquets I would not tast 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 wel-govern'd and wise appetite. Co. O foolishnesse of men! that lend their eares To those budge doctors of the Stoick furre, And fetch their præcepts from the Cynick tub, Praising the leane, and sallow 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 spawne innumerable But all to please, and sate the curious tast? And set to work millions of spinning worms, That in their green shops weave the smooth-hair'd silk To deck her Sons, and, that no corner might Be vacant of her plentie, in her owne loyns She hutch't th'all worshipt ore, and precious gems To store her children with; if all the world Should in a pet of temperance feed on Pulse, Drink the clear streame, and nothing weare but Freize, Th'all-giver would be unthank't, would be unprais'd, Not halfe 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 wast fertilitie; Th'earth cumber'd, and the wing'd aire dark't with plumes, The heards would over-inultitude their Lords, The sea ore-fraught would swell, and th'unsought diamonds Would so emblaze the forehead of the Deep, And so bestudde with stars that they below Would grow inur'd to light, and come at last To gaze upon the Sun with shameless brows. List Ladie be not coy, and be not cosen'd With that same vaunted name Virginitie, Beautie is natures coine, must not be hoorded, But must be currant, and the good thereof Consists in mutuall and partaken blisse, Vnsavourie in th'injoyment of it selfe
If you let slip time, like a neglected rose It withers on the stalke with languish't head. Beautie is natures brag, and must be showne In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities Where most may wonder at the workmanship; It is for homely features to keepe home, They had their name thence; course complexions And cheeks of sorrie graine will serve to ply The sampler, and to teize the huswifes wooll. What need a vermeil-tinctur'd lip for that Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the Morne There was another meaning in these gifts? Thinke what, and be adviz'd, you are but yong yet. La. I had not thought to have unlockt my lips In this unhallow'd aire, but that this Jugler Would thinke to charme my judgment, as mine eyes Obtruding false rules pranckt in reasons garbe. I hate when vice can bolt her arguments And vertue has no tongue to check her pride: Impostor doe not charge most innocent nature As if she would her children should be riotous With her abundance, she good cateresse 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 lewdy-pamper'd Luxurie Now heaps upon some few with vast excesse, Natures full blessings would be well dispenc't In unsuperfluous even 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 gluttony Ne're looks to heav'n amidst his gorgeous feast, But with besotted base ingratitude Cramms, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I goe on? Or have I said enough? to him that dares Arme his profane tongue with reproachfull words Against the Sun-clad power of Chastity Faine would I something say, yet to what end? Thou hast nor Eare, nor Soule to apprehend The sublime notion, and high mysterie That must be utter'd to unfold the sage And serious doctrine of Virginitie, And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know More happinesse then this thy præsent lot. Enjoy your deere Wit, and gay Rhetorick That hath so well beene taught her dazling fence, Thou art not fit to heare thy selfe convinc't; Yet should I trie, the uncontrouled worth Of this pure cause would kindle my rap't spirits To such a flame of sacred vehemence, That dumb things would be mov'd to sympathize, And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake, Till all thy magick structures rear'd so high Were shatter'd into heaps ore thy false head. Co. She fables not, I feele that I doe feare Her words set off by some superior power; And though not mortall, yet a cold shuddring dew Dips me all o' e, as when the wrath of Iove Speaks thunder, and the chaines of Erebus To some of Saturns crew. I must dissemble, And try her yet more strongly. Come; no more,
This is meere morall babble, and direct' Against the canon laws of our foundation, I must not suffer this, yet 'tis but the lees And setlings of a melancholy blood; But this will cure all streight, one sip of this Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight Beyond the blisse of dreams. Be wise, and tast.—
The brothers rush in with swords drawne, wrest his glasse out of his hand, and breake it against the ground; his rout make signe of resistance, but are all driven in; the attendant Spirit comes in.
Spir. What, have you let the false enchanter scape? O yee mistooke, yee should have snatched his wand And bound him fast; without his rod revers't, And backward mutters of dissevering power Wee cannot free the Ladie that sits here In stonie fetters fixt, and motionlesse; Yet stay, be not disturb'd, now I bethinke me, Some other meanes I have which may be us'd, Which once of Melibœus old I learnt The soothest shepheard that ere pipe't on plains. There is a gentle nymph not farre from hence That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream, Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure, Whilome shee was the daughter of Locrine, That had the scepter from his father Brute. She guiltlesse damsell flying the mad pursuit Of her enraged stepdam Guendolen Commended her faire innocence to the flood That stay'd her flight with his crosse-flowing course,
The water Nymphs, that in the bottome playd Held up their pearled wrists and tooke her in, Bearing her straite to aged Nereus hall Who piteous of her woes reatd her lanke head, And gave her to his daughters to imbathe In nectar'd lavers strewd with asphodil, And through the porch, and inlet of each sense Dropt in ambrosial oyles till she reviv'd, And underwent a quicke, immortal change Made goddesse of the river; still she retaines Her maiden gentlenesse, and oft at eve Visits the herds along the twilight meadows, Helping all urchin blasts, and ill lucke signes That the shrewd medling elfe delights to make, Which she with precious viold liquors heales. For which the shepheards at their festivalls Carroll her goodnesse lowd in rusticke layes, And throw sweet garland wreaths into her streame Of pancies, pinks, and gaudie daffadills. And, as the old Swaine said, she can unlocke The clasping charme, and thaw the numming spell, If she be right invok't in warbled Song, For maidenhood she loves, and will be swift To aid a virgin such as was her selfe In hard besetting need, this will I trie And adde the power of some adjuring verse.
Song.
Sabrina faire Listen where thou art sitting Vnder the glassie, coole, translucent wave, In twisted braids of lillies knitting
The loose traine of thy amber-dropping haire, Listen for deare honours sake Goddesse of the silver lake Listen and save.
Listen and appeare to us In name of great Oceanus, By th earth shaking Neptun's mace And Tethys grave majesticke pace, By hoarie-Nereus wrincled looke, And the Carpathian wisards hooke, By scalie Tritons winding shell. And old sooth saying Glaucus spell, By Leucothea's ovely hands, And her son that rules the strands, By Thetis tinsel-flipper d feet; And the songs of Sirens sweet, By dead Parthenope's deare tomb, And faire Ligea's golden comb, Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks Sleeking her soft alluring locks, By all the Nymphs that nightly dance Vpon thy streams with wilie glance, Rise, rise and heave thy rosie head From thy coral-paven bed, And bridle in thy headlong wave Till thou our summons answerd have. Listen and save.
Sabrina rises attended by water Nimphes and sings.
By the rushie fringed banke, Where growes the willow and the osier dancke My sliding chariot stayes,
Thicke set with agat, and the azurne sheene Of turkkis blew, and Emrould greene That in the channell strayes, Whilst from off the waters fleet Thus I set my printlesse feet Ore the cowssips velvet head, That bends not as I tread, Gentle swaine at thy request I am here.
Spir. Goddesse deare Wee implore thy powerfull hand To undoe the charm d band Of true virgin here distrest, Through the force, and through the wile Of unblest inchanter vile. Sab. Shepheard tis my office best To helpe insnared chastitie; Brightest Ladie looke on me, Thus I sprinkle on thy brest Drops that from my fountaine pure I have kept of precious cure, Thrice upon thy fingers tip, Thrice upon thy rubied lip, Next this marble venom'd seate Smear'd with gummes of glutenous heate I touch with chast palmes moist and cold, Now the spell hath lost his hold. And I must hast ere morning houre To waite in Amphitrite's bowre.
Sabrina descends and the Ladie rises out
of her seate.
Spir. Virgin, daughter of Locrine Sprung of old Anchises line May thy brimmed waves for this Their full tribute never misse From a thousand pettie rills, That tumble downe the snowie hills: Summer drouth, or singed aire Never scorch thy tresses faire Nor wet Octobers torrent flood Thy molten crystall fill with mudde, May thy billowes rowle a shoare The beryll, and the golden ore, May thy loftie head be crown'd With many a tower, and terrasse round, And here and there thy banks upon With groves of myrrhe, and cinnamon.
Come Ladie while heaven lends us grace, Let us fly this cursed place, Lest the sorcerer us intice With some other new device. Not a wast, or needlesse sound Till we come to holyer ground, I shall be your faithfull guide Through this gloomie covert wide, And not many furlongs thence Is your Fathers residence, Where this night are met in state Many a freind to gratulate
His wish't presence, and beside All the Swains that there abide, With Iiggs, and rurall dance resort, Wee shall catch them at their sport, And our suddaine comming there Will double all their mirth, and chere, Come let us hast the starrs are high But night sits monarch yet in the mid skie.
The Scene changes presenting Ludlow towne and the Presidents Castle, then come in Countrie dancers, after them the attendant Spirit with the two Brothers and the Ladie.
Song.
Spir. Back Shepheards, back enough your play, Till next Sun-shine holiday, Here be without duck or nod, Other trippings to be trod Of lighter toes, and such Court guise As Mercury did first devise With the mincing Dryades On the lawns, and on the leas.
This second Song præsents them
to their father and mother.
Noble Lord, and Lady bright, I have brought yee new delight, Here behold so goodly growne Three faire branches of your owne, Heav'n hath timely tri'd their youth, Their faith, their patience, and their truth,
And sent them here through hard assays With a crowne of deathlesse Praise, To triumph in victorious dance Ore sensuall Folly, and Intemperance.
The dances ended, the Spirit Epilogizes.
Spir. To the Ocean now I flie, And those happie climes that lie Where day never shuts his eye, Vp in the broad fields of the skie: There I suck the liquid ayre All amidst the gardens faire Of Hesperus, and his daughters three That sing about the golden tree, Along the crisped shades, and bowres Revells the spruce and jocond Spring, The Graces, and the rosie-bosom'd Howres Thither all their bounties bring, That there æternall Summer dwells And west winds, with muskie wing About the cedar'n alleys fling Nard, and Caßia's balmie smells. Iris there with humid bow Waters the odorous banks that blow Flowers of more mingled hew Then her purfl'd scarfe can shew, And drenches with Elysian dew (List mortalls, if your eares be true) Beds of Hyacinth, and roses)
Where young Adonis oft reposes, Waxing well of his deepe wound In slumber soft, and on the ground
Sadly sits thʼAssyrian Queene; But farre above in spangled sheene Celestiall Cupid her fam'd Son advanc't, Holds his deare Psyche sweet intranc't After her wandring labours long, Till free consent the gods among Make her his æternall Bride, And from her faire unspotted side Two blissfull twins are to be borne, Youth, and Ioy, so Iove hath sworne. But now my taske is smoothly done, I can fly, or I can run Quickly to the greene earths end, Where the bow'd welkin slow doth bend, And from thence can soare as soone To the corners of the Moone. Mortalls that would follow me, Love vertue, she alone is free, She can teach yee how to clime Higher then the Sphærie chime; Or if vertue feeble were Heav'n it selfe would stoope to her.
The principall persons in this Maske ; were
| The Lord Bracly, | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | The Lady Alice |
| M$^r$. Thomas Egerton, | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | Egerton. |
The End.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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