Coxus Enters with a rout of Men and Women, dressed as Bacchanals.
Comus. The star, that bids the shepherd fold,
Now the top of heaven doth hold,
And the gilded car of day
His glowing axle doth allay
In the steep Atlantic stream;
And the slope sun his upward beam
Shoots against the dusky pole,
Pacing toward the other goal
Of his chamber in the east;
Meantime welcome joy and feast!
SONG, by a Bacchanal.
Now Phabus sinketh in the west,
Welcome song, and welcome jest,
Midnight shout and revelry,
Tipsy dance and jollity;
Braid your locks with rosy twine,
Dropping odours, dropping wine!
Rigour now is gone to bed,
And Advice with scrup'lous head,
Strict Age, and sour Severity,
With their grave saws to slumber lie.
Comus. We that are of purer fire,
Imitate the starry choir,
Who in their nightly watchful spheres
Lead in swift round the months and years.
The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove,
Now to the moon in wav'ring morrice move,
And on the tawny sands and shelves
Trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves.
SONG, by a Bacchant.
By dimpled brook, and fountain brim,
The wood-nymphs, deck'd with daisies trim,
Their merry wakes and pastimes keep :
What has night to do with sleep?
Night has better sweets to prove,
Venus now wakes, and wakens love:
Come let us our rites begin!
'Tis only day-light that makes sin.
Comus. Hail, goddess of nocturnal sport--
"Dark-veil'd Cocytto, t'whom the sacred flame
Of midnight torches burns; mysterious dame,
That ne'er art call'd, but when the dragon womb
Of Stygian darkness spits her thickest gloom,
And makes one blot of all the air,"
Stay thy cloudy eben chair,
Wherein thou rid'st with Hecate; and befriend
Us thy vow'd priests!
Till the nice morn on th' Indian steep
From her cabin loop-holes peep,
And to the tell-tale sun descry
Our conceal'd solemnity.
DUET, by a Man and Woman.
From tyrant laws and customs free,
We follow sweet variety;
By turns we drink, and dance and sing,
Time for ever on the wing.
Why should niggard rules controul
Transports of the jovial soul?
No dull stinting hour we own;
Pleasure counts our time alone.
Comus. Come! Kuit hands and beat the
ground
In a light fantastic round.
[A dance. Comus. Break off, break off! I feel the diff'rent pace
Of some chaste footing near about this ground;
Run to your shrouds, within these brakes and
Our number may affright; some virgin sure,
(For so I can distinguish by my art,)
Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms,
And to my wily trains! Thus I burl
My spells into the air-When once her eye
Hath met the virtue of this magic dust,
I shall appear some harmless villager.
But see she stops, and seems
As she'd address herself in song.
My best guide now; methought it was the sound
Of riot and ill-manag'd mirth. I should be loth
To meet the rudeness, and swill'd insolence
Of such late rioters; yet, O! where else
Shall I inform my unacquainted feet
In the blind mazes of this tangled wood?
Comus. (Aside) I'll ease her of that care, and
be her guide.
Lady. My brothers, when they saw me wea-
ried out,
Stepp'd, as they said, to the next thicket side,
To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit
As the kind hospitable woods provide.
But where they are, and why they come not
Is now the labour of my thoughts; 'tis likeliest
They had engag'd their wandering steps too far:
I cannot halloo to my brothers, but
Such noise as I could make to be heard farthest
I have ventured, "for my new enliven'd spirits
Prompt me," and they perhaps are not far off.
Comus. (Aside.) "Sure something holy lodges
And with these raptures moves the vocal air
in that breast,
To testify his hidden residence:
How sweetly did they float upon the wings
Of Silence, thro' the empty-vaulted night,
At ev'ry fall smoothing the raven down
Of darkness, 'till it smil'd; I have oft heard
My mother Circe, with the Sirens three,
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 sweet in madness robb'd it of itself.
But such a sacred and home-felt delight,
Such sober certainty of waking bliss,
Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st un-I never heard till now."-I'll speak to her,
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And she shall be my queen.-Hail, foreign wonder,
Whom certain these rough shades did never
Unless the goddess, that in rural shrine
Dwell'st here with Pan, or Silvan, by bless'd
Forbidding ev'ry bleak unkindly fog
To touch the pros'prous growth of this tall wood. Lady. Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praise,
That is addressed to unattending ears;
Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift
How to regain my sever'd company,
Compell'd me to awake the courteous Echo,
To give me answer from her mossy couch.
Comus. What chance, good lady, hath bereft
you thus?
Lady. Dim darkness, and this leafy labyrinth.
Comus. Could that divide you from near ush'r-
ing guides?
Lady. They left me weary on a grassy turf, To seek i'th' valley some cool friendly spring. Comus. And left your fair side all unguarded, lady?
Lady. They were but twain, and purpos'd quick return.
Comus. Imports their loss, beside the present need?
Lady. No less than if I should my brothers lose. Comus. Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom?
Lady. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd lips. Comus. Two such I saw "what time the labour'd ox
In his loose traees from the furrows came,
And the swink't hedger at his supper sat;
I saw them" under a green mantling vine,
That crawls along the side of yon small hill,
Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots;
Their port was more than human;
I took it for a fairy vision
I can conduct you, lady, to a low
If he be friendly, he comes well; if not,
Defence is a good cause, and heav'n be for us;"
Enter Spirit, habited like a Shepherd.
Y. Bro. That halloo I should know-What
are you? speak.
1 Spir. What voice is that? my young lord? speak again.
Y. Bro. O brother 'tis my father's shepherd
1 Spir. O my lov'd master's heir and his next joy,
Where is my virgin lady? where is she?
But loyal cottage, where you may be safe till How chance she is not in your company?
Lady. Shepherd, I take thy word, And trust thy offer'd service. In a place Less warranted than this, or less secure,
I cannot be, that I should fear to change it.
Eye me, bless'd Providence, and square my
To my proportion'd strength! Shepherd, lead
[Exeunt.
E. Bro. To tell thee sadly, shepherd, without blame,
Or our neglect, we lost her as we came.
1 Spir. Ah me unhappy! then my fears are
Enter COMUS's crew revelling; the Elder Brother advances and speaks.
E. Bro. What are you? speak! that thus in wanton riot
And midnight revelry, like drunken Bacchanals,
Invade the silence of these lonely shades?
1 Wom.
Ye godlike youths,
Bless the propitious star that led you to us,
We are the happiest of the race of mortals,
Of freedom, mirth, and joy, the only heirs;
But you shall share them with us; for this cup,
This nectur'd cup, the sweet assurance gives
Of present, and the pledge of future bliss.
By the gayly circling glass We can see how minutes pass; By the hollow cask are told How the wuning night grows old. Soon, too soon, the busy day Drives us from our sport and play. What have we with day to do? Sons of cure 'twas made for you? [She offers the cup, which they both put by.
E. Bro. Forbear, nor offer us the poison'd
1 Wom. Oh! how unseemly shews in blooming youth,
Such grey severity!-But come with us;
We to the bower of bliss will guide your steps.
Would you taste the noon-tide air?
To yon fragrant bower repair,
Where, woven with the poplar bough,
The muntling vine will shelter you.
Down each side a fountain flows,
Tinkling, murmuring, as it goes
Lightly o'er the mossy ground,
Sultry Phoebus scorching round.
Round the languid herds and sheep
Stretch'd o'er sunny hillocks sleep
While on the hyacinth and rose
The fair does all alone repose.
All alone-and in her arms
Your breast may beat to love's alarms,
Till bless'd, and blessing, you shall own
The joys of love are joys alone.
Y. Bro. How low sinks beauty, when by vice debas'd!
Fair were that form, if virtue dwelt within; But from the wanton advocate of shame To me the warbled song harsh discord sounds. 2 Wom. No more; these formal maxims misbecome you.
They only suit suspicious shrivell❜d age.
By a Man and two Women.
Live, and love, enjoy the fair,
Banish sorrow, banish care;
Mind not what old dotards say;
Age has had his share of play,
But youth's sport begins to-day.
From the fruits of sweet delight
Let not scare-crow virtue fright!
Here in pleasure's vineyard we
Rove, like birds, from tree to tree,
Careless, airy, gay and free.
E. Bro. How can your impious tongues profane the name
Of sacred Virtue, and yet promise pleasure
In lying songs of vanity and vice?"
1 Wom. Turn not away, but listen to our
SCENE I.-A gay Pavilion.
COMUS and Attendants on each side of the Lady, who is seated in an enchanted chair.
Come, thou goddess fair and free,
In heaven yclep'd Euphrosyne,
And by men heart-easing Mirth,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth,
With two sister graces more,
To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore!
Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful jollity,
Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport, that wrinkled care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides!
Come, and trip it as you go,
On the light fantastic toe:
And in thy right hand lead with thee,
The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty!
Haste thee nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful jollity,
Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport, that wrinkled care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides!
Haste thee, nymph, &c. &c.
"Come, come, bid adieu to fear!
Love and harmony reign here.
No domestic jealous jars,
Buzzing slanders, wordy wars,
In our presence will appear;
Love and harmony reign here.
"Sighs to amorous sighs returning,
Pulses beating, bosoms burning,
Bosoms with warm wishes panting,
Words to speak those wishes wanting,
Are the only tumults here,
All the woes you need to fear;
Love and harmony live here."
Lady. How long must I, by magic fetters
chain'd
To this detested seat, hear odious strains
Of shameless folly, which my soul abhors!
Comus. Now softly slow sweet Lydian airs
attune,
And breathe the pleasing pangs of gentle love. Enter EUPHROSYNE and Pastoral Nymph, who advances slow, with a melancholy and desponding air, to the side of the stage, and repeat, by way of soliloquy, the first six lines, and then sings the ballad. She is observed by EUPHROSYNE, who, by her gestures, expresses her different sentiments of the subject of her complaint, suitably to the character of their several songs.
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