And set to work millions of spinning worms, That in their green shops weave the smooth-haired silk Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins She hutched the all-worshipped 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 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, As a penurious niggard of his wealth, And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons, Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight, And strangled with her waste fertility ; The earth cumbered, and the winged air darked with plumes,35 The herds would over-multitude their lords, The sea o'erfraught would swell, and the unsought diamond. Would so emblaze the forehead of the deep, And so bestud with stars, that they below Beauty is Nature's coin, must not be hoarded, But must be current; and the good thereof Consists in mutual and partaken bliss, Unsavoury in the enjoyment of itself; If you let slip time, like a neglected rose They had their name thence; coarse complexions, Think what, and be advised: you are but young yet. LADY. I had not thought to have unlocked my lips 38 In this unhallowed air, but that this juggler As if she would her children should be riotous With her abundance; she, good cateress, Means her provision only to the good, That live according to her sober laws, And she no whit encumbered with her store; And then the Giver would be better thanked, His praise due paid; for swinish Gluttony 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 profane tongue with contemptuous words Fain would I something say, yet to what end? Thou hast nor ear, nor soul, to apprehend The sublime notion, and high mystery, That must be uttered to unfold the sage And serious doctrine of virginity; And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric, That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence, Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced ; Yet, should I try, the uncontrolled worth Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits To such a flame of sacred vehemence, That dumb things would be moved to sympathise, And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, 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 41 Her words set off by some superior power; And though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering dew Dips me all o'er, as when the wrath of Jove Speaks thunder, and the chains of Erebus, To some of Saturn's crew. I must dissemble, This is mere moral babble, and direct Against the canon laws of our foundation. |