All on bended knee be seen,

Paying homage to your queen.

6

[After this they put on their chaplets, and prepare for the feaft; while Comus is advancing with his cup, and one of his attendants offers a chaplet to the lady (which she throws on the ground with indignation) the preparation for the feaft is interrupted by lofty and folemn mufic from above, whence the fecond attendant Spirit enters gradually in a fplendid machine, repeating the following lines to the lady, and fings, remaining ftill invisible to Comus and his crew.

From the realms of peace above,
From the fource of heav'nly love,

From the starry throne of Jove,
Where tuneful mufes, in a glitt'ring ring,
To the celestial lyre's eternal firing,
Patient Virtue's triumph fing:

To thefe dim labyrinths, where mortals stray,
Maz'd in paffion's pathlefs way,

To fave thy purer breast from spot and blame
Thy guardian spirit came.

SONG.

Nor on beds of fading flowers,
Shedding foon their gaudy pride;
Nor with fwains in Syren bowers,
Will true pleasure long refide.

On awful virtue's hill fublime,

Enthroned fits th' immortal fair;

Who wins her height, must patient climb,
The steps are peril, tcil and care.

So from the first did Jove ordain,
Eternal blifs for tranfient pain.

[Exit the Spirit, the mufic playing loud and folemn.

Lady. Thanks, heav'nly fongfter! whofoe'er thou

art,

Who

Who deign'ft to enter these unhallow'd walls,
To bring the fong of Virtue to mine ear!
O ceafe not, cease not the melodious strain,
Till my rapt foul high on the fwelling note
To heav'n afcend—far from these horrid fiends!
Comus. Mere airy dreams of air-bred people these?
Who look with envy on more happy man,

And would decry the joys they cannot taste.
Quit not the fubstance for a stalking shade
Of hollow virtne, which eludes the grafp.'
Drink this, and you will scorn fuch idle tales.

[He offers the cup, which she puts by, and attempts to rife.]

Nay, lady, fit; if I but wave this wand,
Your nerves are all bound up in alabaster,
And you a ftatue: or, as Daphne was,
Root-bound that fled Apollo.'

Lady. Fool, do not boast ;

Thou can't not touch the freedom of my mind
With all thy charms, altho' this corp'ral rind
Thou haft immanacl'd, while heav'n fees good.

Comus. Why are you vex'd, lady? why do you frown?
Here dwell no frowns nor anger; from thefe gates
Sorrow flies far. See, here be all the pleasures
That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts,
• When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns
Brifk as the April buds in primrose season.'
And first behold this cordial julep here,
That flames and dances in his crystal bounds,
With fpirits of balm and fragrant fyrups mix'd,
Not that Nepenthes, which the wife of Thone
In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena,
Is of fuch pow'r to stir up joy, as this,
To life fo friendly, or fo cool to thirst.'

Lady. Know bafe deluder, that I will not taste it. Keep thy detefted gifts for such as these.

[Points to his crew.

SONG. By a man.

Mortals, learn your lives to measure
Not by length of time, but pleasure ;

Soon your spring must have a fall;
Lofing youth, is lofing all:

Then you'll afk, but none will give,
And may linger, but not live.

Comus. Why fhou'd you be fo cruel to yourself,
And to those dainty limbs, which Nature lent
For gentle ufage and foft delicacy?

But you invert the cov❜nants of her truft,
And harfhly deal, like an ill borrower,
• With that which you receiv'd on other terms,
Scorning the unexempt condition,

By which all human frailty must subsist,
Refreshment after toil. eafe after pain ;'
That have been tir'd all day without repaft,
And timely reft have wanted. But, fair virgin,
This will restore all-foon.

Lady. "Twill not, falfe traitor !

'Twill not reflore the truth and honefty

That thou haft banish'd from thy tongue with lies.

Was this the cottage, and the fafe abode

Thou told'it me of? Hence with thy brew'd enchant

ments.

Haft thou betray'd my credulous innocence
• With vizor'd falfhood, and bafe forgery?
And would'it thou feek again to trap me here
With liqu'rish baits, fit to enfnare a brute ?'
Were it a draught for Juno when the banquets,
I wou'd not taite thy treas'nous offer-None,
But fuch as are good men, can give good things;
And that which is not good is not delicious
To a well-govern'd and wife appetite.

Comus. O, foclifhnefs of men! that lend their ears To thofe budge doctors of the Stoic fur,

And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub,

Praifing the lean and fallow abftinence.

Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth

With fuch a full and unwithdrawing hand,

Cov'ring the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks,
Thronging the feas with fpawn innumerable,
But all to please and fate the curious taste;
And fet to work millions of fpinning worms,

That in their green fhops weave the smooth-hair'd filk,
D

To

• To deck her fons; and, that no corner might
Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins
She hutch'd th' all-worship'd ore, and precious gems
To ftore her children with; if all the world
Should in a pet of temp'rance feed on pulse,

• Drink the clear ftream, and nothing wear but frize,
Th' All-giver would be unthank'd, would be unprais'd,
Not half his riches known, and yet defpis'd,
And we should ferve him as a grudging master,
As a penurious niggard of his wealth,

And live like Nature's baftards, not her fons;
Who would be quite furcharg'd with her own weight,
And ftrangled with her wafte fertility.

• Lady. I had not thought to have unlock'd my
In this unhallow'd air, but that this juggler

lips

• Wou'd think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes, Obtruding falfe rules, prank'd in reason's garb.

I hate when vice can bolt her arguments,

• And virtue has no tongue to check her pride.
Impoftor, do not charge most innocent Nature,
• As if fhe would her children should be riotous
With her abundance. She, good eaterefs,
Means her provifion only to the good,
That live according to her fober laws,
And holy dictate of fpare Temperance.
If ev'ry just man, that now pines with want,
Had but a mod rate and befeeming share
Of that which lewdly-pamper'd Luxury
Now heaps upon fome few with vast excess,
Nature's full bleffings would be well difpens'd
In unfuperfluous even proportion,

And the no whit encumber'd with her store;
And then the Giver wou'd be better thank'd,
His praise due paid. For fwinish Gluttony
Ne'er looks to heav'n amidst his gorgeous feast,
But with befotted, base ingratitude

Crams, and blafphemes his feeder.' Shall I go on?
Or have I faid enough?

Comus. Enough to fhew

That you are cheated by the lying boasts

Of farving pedants, that affect a fame

From fcorning pleafures, which they cannot reach.

Euphrofyne

Euphrofyne fings *.

Preach not to me your mufty rules,
Ye drones that mould in idle cell;
The heart is wifer than the schools,
The fenfes always reafon well.
If fhort my fpan, I lefs can spare
To país a fingle pleasure by ;
An hour is long, if loft in care;
They only live, who life enjoy.

Comus. These are the maxims of the truly wife, • Of fuch as practise what they preach to others. Here are no hypocrites, no grave diffemblers; • Nor pining grief, nor eating cares approach us, Nor fighs, nor murmurs -but of gentle Love, Whose woes delight: What must his pleasures then?

Euphrofyne fings.

Ye Fauns, and ye Dryads, from hill, dale, and grove,

Trip, trip it along, conducted by Love;

Swiftly refort to Comus' gay court,

And in various measures fhew Love's various fport.

• Enter the Fauns and Dryads, and attend to the following • directions. The tune is play'd a fecond time, to which they dance.

Now lighter and gayer, ye tinkling ftrings, found; • Light, light in the air, ye nimble nymphs, bound. Now, now with quick feet the ground beat, beat, beat; Now with quick feet the ground beat, beat, beat, &c. Now cold and denying, Now kind and complying, • Consenting, repenting. Difdaining, complaining,

• Indifference now feigning.

Again with quick feet the ground beat, beat, beat.

' [Exeunt dancers.

Sung by Comus, as now performed at Covent-garden theatre.

D 2

Comus.