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 meager 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 wife 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 dreeme, 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't it selfe by carnall sensualitie To a degenerate and degraded state.
SEC. 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.
ELD. BRO. List, list I heare
Some farre off hallow breake the silent aire.
SEC. 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.
SEC. 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
That hallow I should know, what are you, speake, Come not too neere, you fall on iron stakes else.
SPIRIT. What voice is that, my yong Lord? speak agen. SEC. 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?
SPIRIT. 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 [oh] 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.
SPIRIT. Aye me unhappie then my fears are true. ELD. BRO. What fears good Thyrsis? prethee briefly shew. SPIRIT. Ile tell you, 'tis not vaine, or fabulous (Though so esteem'd by shallow ignorance) What the sage Poëts taught by th' heav'nly 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 mother's 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 favourite 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 unusual 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 Under the ribs of Death, but ô [oh] ere long Too well I did perceive it was the voice
Of my most honour'd Lady your dear sister. Amaz'd I stood, harrow'd with griefe and feare, And ô [oh] 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 my 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.
SEC. 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 firmanent 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 Under 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.
SPIRIT. Alas good ventrous youth,
I love thy courage yet, and bold Emprise, But here thy sword can doe thee little stead,
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