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And let a single helpless maiden pass
Uninjured in this wild surrounding waste.
Of night, or loneliness, it recks me not;

I fear the dread events that dog them both,
Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person
Of our unowned sister.

Elder Brother.

I do not, brother,

Infer as if I thought my sister's state

Secure, without all doubt or controversy;

Yet, where an equal poise of hope and fear
Does arbitrate the event, my nature is
That I incline to hope, rather than fear,
And gladly banish squint suspicion.

My sister is not so defenseless left

As you imagine; she has a hidden strength,
Which you remember not.

Second Brother.

What hidden strength,

Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that?

Elder Brother. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength,

Which, if Heaven gave it, may be termed her own;

'Tis Chastity, my brother, Chastity:

She, that has that, is clad in complete steel;
And, like a quivered nymph with arrows keen,
May trace huge forests, and unharbored heaths,
Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds;
Where, through the sacred rays of Chastity,
No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer,
Will dare to soil her virgin purity:
Yea there, where very Desolation dwells,
By grots and caverns shagged with horrid shades,
She may pass on with unblenched majesty,
Be it not done in pride, or in presumption.
Some say, no evil thing that walks by night

In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen,
Blue meager hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost
That breaks his magic chains at Curfew time,
No goblin, or swart faery of the mine,
Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.
Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call
Antiquity from the old schools of Greece
To testify the arms of Chastity?

Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow,
Fair silver-shafted queen, for ever chaste,
Wherewith she tamed the brinded lioness
And spotted mountain-pard, but set at nought
The frivolous bolt of Cupid; gods and men
Feared her stern frown, and she was queen o' the woods.
What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield,

That wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin,
Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone,
But rigid looks of chaste austerity,

And noble grace, that dashed brute violence

With sudden adoration and blank awe?
So dear to Heaven is saintly Chastity,
That, when a soul is found sincerely so,
A thousand liveried angels lackey her,
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt;
And, in clear dream and solemn vision,
Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear;
Till oft converse with heavenly habitants
Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape,

The unpolluted temple of the mind,

And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence,

Till all be made immortal: but when Lust,

By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,
But most by lewd and lavish act of sin,

Lets in defilement to the inward parts,
The soul grows clotted by contagion,
Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite lose
The divine property of her first being.
Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp,
Oft seen in charnel vaults and sepulchers
Lingering, and sitting by a new-made grave,
As loath to leave the body that it loved,
And linked itself by carnal sensuality

To a degenerate and degraded state.

Second Brother. How charming is divine philosophy!
Not harsh, and crabbed, as dull fools suppose,
But musical as is Apollo's lute,

And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets,
Where no crude surfeit reigns.1

Meanwhile the lady, despairing of the return of her brothers, has been attracted by sounds of revelry, and going toward them has met, so she fancied, with a plain and kindly shepherd. By him she has been conducted, not, as he promised, to a low, safe cottage, but to a stately palace, where she now sits in an enchanted chair surrounded by Comus and his crew.

For the plain shepherd only seemed so to the lady by force of a magic spell. In reality he is Comus, the riotous son of Circe and of Bacchus; and the monstrous rabble who attend him-"headed like sundry sorts of wild beasts, but otherwise like men and women”. —are his unhappy victims. Like his mother Circe he tempts whomsoever he may with "orient liquor in a crystal glass"-a pleasing but horrible poison that works a hideous change; and so perfect is the misery of those who suffer, that they—

Not once perceive their foul disfigurement,
But boast themselves more comely than before;

1 With this speech compare Montaigne, Prose, pp. 19f.

And all their friends and native home forget,
To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty.

Comus stands before the lady, and offers her the fateful glass.

Com. Nay, lady, sit; if I but wave this wand, Your nerves are all chained up in alabaster,

And you a statue, or, as Daphne was,

Root-bound, that fled Apollo.

Lad.

Fool, do not boast;

Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind
With all thy charms, although this corporal rind
Thou hast immanacled, while Heaven sees good.
Com. Why are you vexed, lady?
Here dwell no frowns, nor anger;

Why do you frown?
from these 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
Brisk as the April buds in primrose-season.
And first, behold this cordial julep here,
That flames and dances in his crystal bounds,
With spirits of balm and fragrant syrops mixed;
Not that nepenthes which the wife of Thone
In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena,
Is of such power to stir up joy as this,
To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst.
Why should you be so cruel to yourself,
And to those dainty limbs, which Nature lent
For gentle usage and soft delicacy?
But you invert the covenants of her trust,
And harshly deal like an ill borrower
With that which you received on other terms;
Scorning the unexempt condition,

By which all mortal frailty must subsist,
Refreshment after toil, ease after pain,
That have been tired all day without repast,
And timely rest have wanted; but, fair virgin,
This will restore all soon.

Lad.

"Twill not, false traitor!

'Twill not restore the truth and honesty

That thou hast banished from thy tongue with lies.
Was this the cottage, and the safe abode,

Thou told'st me of? What grim aspects are these,
These ugly-headed monsters? Mercy guard me!
Hence with thy brewed enchantments, foul deceiver!
Hast thou betrayed my credulous innocence
With visored falsehood and base forgery?
And would'st thou seek again to trap me here
With liquorish baits, fit to ensnare a brute?
Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets,
I would not taste thy treasonous offer; none
But such as are good men can give good things;
And that which is not good, is not delicious

To a well-governed and wise appetite.

Com. O foolishness of men! that lend their ears

To those budge doctors of the Stoic fur,
And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub,
Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence.
Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth
With such a full and unwithdrawing hand,
Covering the earth with odors, fruits, and flocks,
Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable,
But all to please and sate the curious taste?
And set to work millions of spinning worms,

That in their green shops weave the smooth-haired silk,
To deck her sons? and that no corner might

Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins

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