With all thy charms, although this corp'ral rind
Thou hast immanacled, while Heav'n sees good.
Comus. Why are you vexed, Lady? Why do you
frown ?
Here dwell no frowns nor anger; 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-seas'n.
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 pow'r 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 cov❜nants of her trust,
And harshly deal, like an ill borrower,
With that which you received on other terms,
Scorning the unexempt conditiön,
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.
'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 cred 'lous innocence
With visored falsehood and base forgery?
And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here
With lickerish baits, fit to ensnare a brute ?
Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets,
I would not taste thy treas'nous 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.
Comus. Oh, foolishness of men, that lend their ears
To those budge doctors of the Stoic fur,1
And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub,2
Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence !
Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth
With such a full and unwithdrawing hand,
Cov'ring the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks,
Thronging the seas with spawn innum’rable,
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 their sons; and, that no corner might
Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins
She hutched the all-worshipped ore, and precious
To store her children with. If all the world
Should in a pet of temp'rance feed on pulse,
Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze, Th' All-giver would be unthanked, would be
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,
A disputed passage. "Budge" probably means surly. "Fur" alludes to the trimming of the scholastic gown of the English uni versities. The tub of Diogenes the Cynic.
Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight,
And strangled with her waste fertility;
Th' earth cumbered, and the winged air darked with
The herds would over-multitude their lords,
The sea o'erfraught would swell, and th' unsought diamonds
Would so imblaze the forehead of the deep,
And so bestud with stars, that they below
Would grow inured to light, and come at last
To gaze upon the sun with shameless brows.
List, Lady; be not coy, and be not cozened
With that same vaunted name, Virginity.
Beauty is Nature's coin, must not be hoarded,
But must be current; and the good thereof
Consists in mutual and partaken bliss,
Unsav'ry in the enjoyment of itself :
If you let slip time, like a neglected rose
It withers on the stalk with languished head.
Beauty is Nature's brag, and must be shown
In courts, at feasts and high solemnities,
Where most may wonder at the workmanship;
It is for homely features to keep home,
They had their name thence; coarse complexions,
And cheeks of sorry grain, will serve to ply
The sampler, and to tease the huswife's wool:
What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that,
Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the Morn?
There was another meaning in these gifts ;
Think what, and be advised; you are but young
yet.
Lady. I had not thought to have unlocked my lips
In this unhallowed air, but that this juggler
Would think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes,
Obtruding false rules pranked in Reason's garb.
I hate when Vice can bolt 1 her arguments,
And Virtue has no tongue to check her pride.
Impostor, do not charge most innocent Nature,
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 holy dictate of spare Temperance.
If ev'ry just man, that now pines with want,
Had but a mod’rate and beseeming share
Of that which lewdly-pampered Luxury
Now heaps upon some few with vast excess,
Nature's full blessings would be well dispensed
In unsuperfluous ev'n proportiön,
And she no whit incumbered with her store;
And then the Giver would be better thanked,
His praise due paid: for swinish Gluttony
Ne'er looks to Heav'n amidst his gorgeous feast,
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
Against the sun-clad pow'r of Chastity
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
More happiness than this thy present lot.
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 uncontrollèd worth
Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt sp'rits
Sift, refine; as a bolting mill sifts and refines flour.
To such a flame of sacred vehemence
That dumb things would be moved to sympathize, 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
Her words set off by some superior pow'r ;
And though not mortal, yet a cold shudd'ring 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.1 I must dissemble,
And try her yet more strongly.-Come, no more!
This is mere moral babble, and direct
Against the canon-laws of our foundation.
I must not suffer this; yet 'tis but the lees
And settlings of a melancholy blood.
But this will cure all straight; one sip of this
Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight
Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste.
The Brothers rush in with swords drawn, wrest his glass out of his hand, and break it against the ground; his rout make sign of resistance, but are all driven in. The Attendant Spirit comes in
Spirit. What, have you let the false Enchanter 'scape ?
Oh, ye mistook, ye should have snatched his Wand, And bound him fast; without his rod reversed,
And backward mutters of dissev'ring pow'r,
We cannot free the Lady that sits here
In stony fetters fixed, and motionless.
-Yet stay, be not disturbed. Now I bethink me,
An allusion to the ten-years contest between Zeus (Jupiter) and
Chronos (Saturn) and his crew of Titans.
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