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 speak to her
And she shall be my Queene. Haile forreine wonder Whom certaine these rough shades did never breed Unlesse 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. LADIE. 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 fever'd companie
Compell'd me to awake the courteous Echo
To give me answer from her mossie Couch.
COMUS. What chance good Ladie hath bereft you thus? LADIE. Dim darknesse, and this leavie Labyrinth. COMUS. Could that divide you from neere-ushering guides? LADIE. They left me weary on a grassie terfe. COMUS. By falsehood, or discourtesie, or why? LADIE. To seeke i'th vally some coole friendly Spring. COMUS. And left your faire side all unguarded Ladie? LADIE. They were but twaine, & purpos'd quick return. COMUS. Perhaps fore-stalling night prævented them. LADIE. How easie my misfortune is to hit!
COMUS. Imports their losse, beside the præsent need? LADIE. No lesse then if I should my brothers lose. COMUS. Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom? LADIE. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd lips. COMUS. 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 journey like the path to heav'n To helpe you find them.
What readiest way would bring me to that place? COMUS. Due west it rises from this shrubbie point. LADIE. 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. COMUS. 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 thach't palate rowse, if otherwise I can conduct you Ladie to a low
But loyall cottage, where you may be safe Till further quest.'
LADIE. 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. Unmuffle 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 a 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.
SEC. 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 [oh] 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.
SEC. 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 Uninjur'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 sister.
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 encline to hope, rather then feare And gladly banish squint suspicion.
My sister is not so defencelesse lest
As you imagine, she has a hidden strength Which you remember not.
SEC. BRO. What hidden strength
Unlesse 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 sandy perillous wilds Where through the sacred rays of chastitie No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaneere 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
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