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Comus

A Masque
  
  
  

collapse section1. 
ACT I.
 1. 
 2. 


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ACT I.

SCENE I.

A WOOD.
Comus enters with a charming-rod in one hand, his glass in the other, with him a rout of men and women, dressed as Bacchanals.
Comus.
The Star, that bids the shepherd fold,
Now the top of heaven doth hold,
And the gilded car of day
His glowing axle doth allay
In the steep Atlantic stream;
And the slope sun his upward beam

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Shoots against the dusky pole,
Pacing toward the other goal
Of his chamber in the east;
Mean while welcome joy and feast.
SONG. By Comus.

1.

Now Phœbus sinketh in the west,
Welcome song, and welcome jest,
Midnight shout and revelry,
Tipsy dance and jollity;
Braid your locks with rosy twine,
Dropping odours, dropping wine.

2.

Rigour now is gone to bed,
And Advice with scrup'lous head,
Strict Age and sour Severity,
With their grave saws in slumber lie.

Comus.
We that are of purer fire
Imitate the starry choir,
Who in their nightly watchful spheres
Lead in swift round the months and years.
The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove,
Now to the moon in wav'ring morrice move,
And on the tawny sands and shelves
Trip the pert Fairies and the dapper Elves.


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SONG. By a Woman.

1.

By dimpled brook, and fountain brim,
The Wood Nymphs, deck'd with daisies trim,
Their merry wakes and pastimes keep:
What has night to do with sleep?

2.

Night has better sweets to prove;
Venus now wakes, and wakens Love:
Come, let us our rites begin:
'Tis only day-light that makes sin.

Comus.
Hail, Goddess of nocturnal sport—
Stay thy cloudy ebon chair,
Wherein thou rid'st with Hecat', and befriend
Us thy vow'd priests—
Till the nice Morn on th'Indian steep
From her cabin loop-hole peep,
And to the tell-tale Sun descry
Our conceal'd solemnity.

SONG. By Comus and a Woman.

1.

From tyrant laws and customs free,
We follow sweet variety;
By turns we drink, and dance, and sing,
Time for ever on the wing.

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2.

Why should niggard rules controul
Transports of the jovial soul?
No dull stinting hour we own:
Pleasure counts our time alone.

Comus.
Come, knit hands, and beat the ground
In a light fantastic round.

A DANCE.
Comus.
Break off, break off; I feel the diff'rent pace
Of some chaste footing near about this ground.
Run to your shrouds, within these brakes and trees;
Our number may affright: Some virgin sure
(For so I can distinguish by my art)
Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms,
And to my wily trains. Thus I hurl
My spells into the air—When once her eye
Hath met the virtue of this magic dust,
I shall appear some harmless villager.
But here she comes; I fairly step aside
And hearken, if I may her business hear.

The Lady enters.
Lady.
This way the noise was, if mine ear be true,
My best guide now; methought it was the sound

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Of riot and ill-manag'd mirth. I should be loth
To meet the rudeness, and swill'd insolence
Of such late rioters; yet, O! where else
Shall I inform my unacquainted feet
In the blind mazes of this tangled wood?

[Comus aside.]
I'll ease her of that care, and be her guide.

Lady.
My brothers, when they saw me weary'd out,
Stepp'd, as they said, to the next thicket side,
To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit,
As the kind hospitable woods provide.
But where they are, and why they come not back,
Is now the labour of my thoughts; 'tis likeliest
They had engag'd their wand'ring steps too far:
I cannot halloo to my brothers, but
Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest
I'll venture; for my new enliven'd spirits
Prompt me; and they perhaps are not far off.
SONG. By the Lady.
Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen
Within thy airy cell,
By slow Mæander' margent green,
And in the violet-embroider'd vale,
Where the love-lorn nightingale
Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well,
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair,
That likest thy Narcissus are?

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O! if thou have
Hid them in some flow'ry cave,
Tell me but where,
Sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere;
So may'st thou be translated to the skies,
And give resounding grace to all Heaven's harmonies.

[Comus aside.]
Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould
Breathe such divine inchanting ravishment?
I'll speak to her,
And she shall be my queen.—Hail, foreign wonder,
Whom certain these rough shades did never breed,
Unless the Goddess that in rural shrine
Dwell'st here with Pan, or Silvan, by bless'd song
Forbidding ev'ry bleak unkindly fog
To touch the prosp'rous growth of this tall wood.

Lady.
Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praise,
That is address'd to unattending ears:
Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift
How to regain my sever'd company,
Compell'd me to awake the courteous Echo,
To give me answer from her mossy couch.

Comus.
What chance, good lady, hath bereft you thus?

Lady.
Dim darkness, and this leafy labyrinth.


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Comus.
Could that divide you from near-ush'ring guides?

Lady.
They left me weary on a grassy turf,
To seek i'th'valley some cool friendly spring.

Comus.
And left your fair side all unguarded, lady?

Lady.
They were but twain, and purpos'd quick return.

Comus.
Imports their loss, beside the present need?

Lady.
No less than if I should my brothers lose.

Comus.
Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom?

Lady.
As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd lips.

Comus.
Two such I saw, under a mantling vine,
That crawls along the side of yon small hill,

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Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots;
Their port was more than human; if those you seek,
It were a journey like the path to heaven,
To help you find them.

Lady.
Gentle villager,
What readiest way would bring me to that place?

Comus.
I know each lane, and ev'ry alley green,
Dingle, or bushy dell of this wild wood,
My daily 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 grant it otherwise,
I can conduct you, lady, to a low
But loyal cottage, where you may be safe
Till farther quest.

Lady.
Shepherd, I take thy word,
And trust thy offer'd service. In a place
Less warranted than this, or less secure,
I cannot be, that I should fear to change it.
Eye me, bless'd Providence, and square my trial
To my proportion'd strength—Shepherd, lead on.

[Exeunt.

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Enter Comus's crew from behind the trees.
SONG. By a Man.

1.

Fly swiftly ye minutes, till Comus receive
The nameless soft transports that Beauty can give;
The bowl's frolic joys let him teach her to prove,
And she in return yield the raptures of love.

2.

Without love and wine, wit and beauty are vain,
All grandeur insipid, and riches a pain,
The most splendid palace grows dark as the grave:
Love and wine give, ye Gods! or take back what you gave.
CHORUS.
Away, away, away,
To Comus' court repair;
There night out-shines the day,
There yields the melting Fair.

[Exeunt.
A Halloo heard.
Enter the Two Brothers
Eldest Brother.
List, list; I hear
Some far-off halloo break the silent air.

Youngest Brother.
Methought so too; what should it be?


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Eldest Brother.
Either some one like us night-founder'd here,
Or else some neighbour wood-man, or at worst,
Some roving robber calling to his fellows.

Youngest Brother.
Heav'n keep my sister! Again! again! and near!
Best draw, and stand upon our guard.

Eldest Brother.
I'll halloo;
If he be friendly, he comes well; if not,
Defence is a good cause, and Heav'n be for us!

Enter the first Spirit habited like a shepherd.
Youngest Brother.
That halloo I should know—What are you? speak.

First Spirit.
What voice is that? My young lord? Speak again.

Youngest Brother.
O brother, 'tis my father's shepherd sure.

First Spirit.
O my lov'd master's heir, and his next joy,
Where is my virgin lady! where is she?
How chance she is not in your company?


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Eldest Brother.
To tell thee sadly, shepherd, without blame,
Or our neglect, we lost her as we came.

First Spirit.
Ah me unhappy! then my fears are true.

Eldest Brother.
What fears, good Thyrsis? prithee briefly shew.

First Spirit.
Within the bosom of this hideous wood,
Immur'd in cypress shades a sorcerer dwells,
Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus,
Deep skill'd in all his mother's witcheries,
And wanton as his father. This I learnt
Tending my flocks hard by; whence night by night
He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl:
Yet have they many baits and guileful spells,
T'inveigle and invite th'unwary sense.
But hark! the beaten timbrel's jarring sound
And wild tumultuous mirth proclaim their presence:
Onward they move; and this way guide their steps.
Let us withdraw a while.

[They retire.

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Enter Comus's crew revelling, till they observe the Two Brothers; then the Elder Brother advances and speaks.
Eldest Brother.
What are you? speak! that thus in wanton riot
And midnight revelry, like drunken Bacchanals,
Invade the silence of these lonely shades?

First Woman.
Ye godlike youths,
Bless the propitious star that led you to us;
We are the happiest of the race of mortals,
Of freedom, mirth, and joy the only heirs:
But you shall share them with us; for this cup,
This nectar'd cup, the sweet assurance gives
Of present, and the pledge of future bliss.

[She offers 'em the cup, which they both put by.
SONG. By a Man.

1.

By the gayly circling glass
We can see how minutes pass;
By the hollow cask are told
How the waining night grows old.

2.

Soon, too soon, the busy day
Drives us from our sport and play.
What have we with day to do?
Sons of Care, 'twas made for you!


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Eldest Brother.
Forbear, nor offer us the poison'd sweets.

First Woman.
Oh! how unseemly shews in blooming youth
Such grey severity!—But come with us,
We to the bower of bliss will guide your steps.

SONG. By a Female Bacchanal.

1.

Would you taste the noon-tide air?
To yon fragrant bower repair,
Where, woven with the poplar bough,
The mantling vine will shelter you.

2.

Down each side a fountain flows,
Tinkling, murmuring, as it goes
Lightly o'er the mossy ground,
Sultry Phœbus scorching round.

3.

Round, the languid herds and sheep
Stretch'd o'er sunny hillocks sleep,
While on the hyacinth and rose
The Fair does all alone repose.

4.

All alone—and in her arms
Your breast may beat to Love's alarms,
Till bless'd, and blessing, you shall own
The joys of Love are joys alone.


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Youngest Brother.
How low sinks Beauty when by Vice debas'd!
Fair were that form, if Virtue dwelt within;
But from the wanton advocate of shame
To me the warbled song harsh discord sounds.

First Woman.
No more; these formal maxims misbecome you,
They only suit suspicious shrivell'd Age.

SONG. By a Man and two Women.
Live, and love, enjoy the Fair,
Banish sorrow, banish care;
Mind not what old dotards say,
Age has had his share of play,
But Youth's sport begins to-day.
From the fruits of sweet delight
Let not scare-crow Virtue fright.
Here in Pleasure's vineyard we
Rove, like birds, from tree to tree,
Careless, airy, gay and free.

Eldest Brother.
How can your impious tongues profane the name
Of sacred Virtue, and yet promise pleasure
In lying songs of vanity and vice?
From virtue sever'd, pleasure phrenzy grows,
And always flies at Reason's cool return.

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But we forget: who hears the voice of truth,
In noisy riot and intemp'rance drown'd?
Thyrsis, be thou our Guide! We'll follow thee;
And some good Angel bear a shield before us!

[Exeunt Brothers and Spirit.
First Woman.
Come, come, my friends, and partners of my joys,
Leave to yon pedant youths their bookish dreams;
A beardless Cynic is the shame of nature,
Beyond the cure of this inspiring cup;
Away, nor waste a moment more about 'em.

CHORUS.
Away, away, away,
To Comus' court repair;
There night out-shines the day,
There yields the melting Fair.

[Exeunt singing.
END OF THE FIRST ACT.