Comus (Rackham)/Part 4

by John Milton

The Scene changes to a stately Palace set out with all manner of deliciousness; soft Musick, Tables spred with all dainties.

Comus appears with his rabble, and the Lady set in an inchanted Chair: to whom he offers his Glass, which she puts by, and goes about to rise.

Comus

Nay, Lady, sit. If I wave this wand,
Your nerves are all chain’d up in Alablaster,
And you a statue; or as Daphne was,
Root-bound, that fled Apollo.

Lady

Fool, do not boast;
Thou canst not touch the freedom of my minde
With all thy charms, although this corporal rinde
Thou haste immanacl’d, while Heav’n sees good.

Comus

Why are you vext, Lady? why do you frown?
Here dwell no frowns, nor anger; from these gates
Sorrow flies farr. See, here be all the pleasures
That fancy can beget on youthfull 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 mixt.
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 your self,
And to those dainty limms 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 receiv’d on other terms;
Scorning the unexempt condition
By which all mortal frailty must subsist,
Refreshment after toil, ease after pain;
That have been tir’d all day without repast,
And timely rest have wanted; but, fair Virgin,
This will restore all soon.

Lady

’Twill not, false traitor;
’Twill not restore the truth and honesty
That thou hast banish’t from thy tongue with lies.
Was this the cottage, and the safe abode
Thou told’st me of? What grim aspects are these,

XVII

. . . as Daphne was,
Root-bound, that fled Apollo.

These oughly-headed Monsters? Mercy guard me!
Hence with thy brew’d inchantments, foul deceiver;
Hast thou betrai’d my credulous innocence
With visor’d falshood and base forgery,
And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here
With lickerish baits, fit to ensnare a brute?
Were it a draft for Juno when she banquets,
1 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-govern’d and wise appetite.

Comus

O foolishnes of men! that lend their ears
To those budge doctors of the Stoick Furr,
And fetch their precepts from the Cynick Tub,
Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence!
Wherefore did Nature powre her bounties forth
With such a full and unwithdrawing hand,
Covering the earth with odours, 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-hair’d silk
To deck her Sons; and, that no corner might
Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loyns
She hutch’t th’all-worshipt ore and precious gems,
To store her children with. If all the world
Should in a pet of temperance feed on Pulse,
Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but Freize,
Th’all-giver would be unthank’t, would be unprais’d,
Not half his riches known, and yet despis’d;
And we should serve him as a grudging master,
As a penurious niggard of his wealth;
And live like Natures bastards, not her sons,
Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight,
And strangl’d with her waste fertility,
Th’earth cumber’d, and the wing’d air dark’t with plumes;
The herds would over-multitude their Lords,
The Sea o’refraught would swell, and th’unsought diamonds
Would so emblaze the forhead of the Deep,
And so bestudd with Stars, that they below
Would grow inur’d to light, and com at last
To gaze upon the Sun with shameless brows.
List, Lady: be not coy, and be not cosen’d
With that same vaunted name, Virginity;
Beauty is natures coyn, must not be hoorded,
But must be currant; and the good thereof
Consists in mutual and partak’n bliss,
Unsavoury in th’injoyment of it self.
If you let slip time, like a neglected rose
It withers on the stalk with languish’t head.
Beauty is natures 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 hom e;
They had their name thence; course complexions
And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply
The sampler, and to teize the huswifes wooll.
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 adviz’d; you are but young yet.

Lady

I had not thought to have unlockt my lips
In this unhallow’d air, but that this Jugler
Would think to charm my judgement, as mine eyes,
Obtruding false rules pranckt in reasons garb.
I hate when vice can bolt her arguments,
And vertue 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 onely to the good,
That live according to her sober laws
And holy dictate of spare Temperance:
If every just man that now pines with want
Had but a moderate and beseeming share
Of that which lewdly-pamper’d Luxury
Now heaps upon som few with vast excess,
Natures full blessings would be well dispenc’t
In unsuperfluous eeven proportion,
And she no whit encomber’d with her store;
And then the giver would be better thank’t,
His praise due paid; for swinish gluttony
Ne’re looks to Heav’n amidst his gorgeous feast,
But with besotted base ingratitude
Cramms, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I go on?
Or have I said anough? To him that dares
Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words
Against the Sun-clad power of Chastity
Fain would I somthing say; yet to what end?
Thou hast nor Eare, nor Soul to apprehend
The sublime notion, and high mystery
That must be utter’d to unfold the sage
And serious doctrine of Virginity;
And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know
More happiness then this thy present lot.
Enjoy your deer Wit, and gay Rhetorick
That hath so well been taught her dazling fence;
Thou art not fit to hear thy self convinc’t:
Yet should I try, the uncontrouled worth
Of this pure cause would kindle my rap’t spirits
To such a flame of sacred vehemence,
That dumb things would be mov’d to sympathize,
And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake,
Till all thy magick structures, rear’d so high,
Were shatter’d into heaps o’re thy false head.

Comus

She fables not; I feel that I do fear
Her words, set off by som superior power;
And though not mortal, yet a cold shuddring dew
Dips me all o’re; as when the wrath of Jove
Speaks thunder and the chains of Erebus
To som of Saturns crew. I must dissemble,
And try her yet more strongly.—Com, no more;
This is meer moral babble, and direct
Against the canon laws of our foundation.
I must not suffer this; yet ’tis but the lees
And setlings of a melancholy blood;
But this will cure all streight; 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 made signe oresistance, but are all driven in.

XVIII

The Brothers rush in with Swords drawn.

The attendant Spirit comes in.

Spirit

What, have you let the false enchanter scape?
O, ye mistook; ye should have snatcht his wand
And bound him fast; without his rod revers’t,
And backward mutters of dissevering power,
We cannot free the Lady that sits here
In stony fetters fixt and motionless;
Yet stay, be not disturb’d; now I bethink me,
Som other means I have which may be us’d,
Which once of Meliboeus old I learnt,
The soothest Shepherd that ere pip’t on plains.
 There is a gentle Nymph not farr from hence,
That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream
Sabrina is her name; a Virgin pure;
Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,
That had the Scepter from his father Brute.
The guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit
Of her enraged stepdam Guendolen,
Commended her fair innocence to the flood
That stay’d her flight with his cross-flowing course.
The water Nymphs, that in the bottom plaid,
Held up their pearled wrists and took her in,

XIX

The water Nymphs, that in the bottom plaid,
Held up their pearled wrists and took her in.

Bearing her straight to aged Nereus Hall;
Who piteous of her woes, rear’d her lank head,
And gave her to his daughters to imbathe
In nectar’d lavers strew’d with Asphodil,
And through the porch and inlet of each sense
Dropt in Ambrosial Oils, till she reviv’d,
And underwent a quick immortal change,
Made Goddess of the River. Still she retains
Her maid’n gentlenes, and oft at Eeve
Visits the herds along the twilight meadows,
Helping all urchin blasts, and ill luck signes
That the shrewd medling Elfe delights to make,
Which she with pretious viold liquors heals.
For which the Shepherds at their festivals
Carrol her goodnes lowd in rustick layes,
And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream
Of pancies, pinks, and gaudy Daffadils.
And, as the old Swain said, she can unlock
The clasping charm, and thaw the numming spell,
If she be right invok’t in warbled Song;
For maid’nhood she loves, and will be swift
To aid a Virgin, such as was her self,
In hard besetting need; this will I try,
And adde the power of som adjuring verse.

SONG.

 Sabrina fair,
  Listen where thou art sitting
 Under the glassie, cool, translucent wave,
  In twisted braids of Lillies knitting
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;
 Listen for dear honour’s sake,
 Goddess of the silver lake,
Listen, and save!

XX

Sabrina fair
Listen where thou art sitting.

Listen, and appear to us
In name of great Oceanus,
By the earth-shaking Neptune’s mace,
And Tethys grave majestick pace;
By hoary Nereus wrincled look,
And the Carpathian wisards hook;
By scaly Tritons winding shell,
And old sooth-saying Glaucus spell;
By Leucothea’s lovely hands,
And her son that rules the strands;
By Thetis tinsel-slipper’d feet,
And the Songs of Sirens sweet;
By dead Parthenope’s dear tomb,
And fair Ligea’s golden comb,
Wherwith she sits on diamond rocks,
Sleeking her soft alluring locks;
By all the Nymphs that nightly dance
Upon thy streams with wily glance;
Rise, rise, and heave thy rosie head
From thy coral-pav’n bed,
And bridle in thy headlong wave,
Till thou our summons answered have:
Listen, and save!

XXI

Fair Ligea.

XXII

By all the Nymphs that nightly dance
Upon thy streams with wily glance.

Sabrina rises, attended by water-Nymphs, and sings.

 By the rushy-fringed bank,
Where grows the Willow and the Osier dank,
 My sliding Chariot stayes,
Thick set with Agat, and the azurn sheen
Of Turkis blew, and Emrauld green,
 That in the channell strayes;
Whilst from off the waters fleet
Thus I set my prindess feet
O’re the Cowslips Velvet head,
 That bends not as I tread.
Gende swain at thy request
 I am here!

XXIII

Sabrina rises, attended by water-Nymphs

Spirit

Goddess dear,
We implore thy powerful hand
To undo the charmed band
Of true Virgin here distrest,
Through the force and through the wile
Of unblest inchanter vile.

Sabrina

Shepherd, ’tis my office best
To help insnared chastity.
Brightest Lady, look on me.
Thus I sprinkle on thy brest
Drops that from my fountain pure
I have kept of pretious cure;
Thrice upon thy fingers tip,
Thrice upon thy rubied lip;
Next, this marble venom’d seat,
Smear’d with gumms of glutenous heat,
I touch with chaste palms moist and cold.
Now the spell hath lost his hold;
And I must haste ere morning hour
To wait in Amphitrite’s bowr.

Sabrina descends, and the Lady rises out of her seat.

Spirit

Virgin, daughter of Locrine,
Sprung of old Anchises line,
May thy brimmed waves for this
Their full tribute never miss
From a thousand petty rills
That tumble down the snowy hills;
Summer drouth or singed air
Never scorch thy tresses fair;
Nor wet Octobers torrent flood
Thy molten crystal fill with mudd;
May thy billows rowl ashoar
The beryl, and the golden ore;
May thy lofty head be crown’d
With many a tower and terrass round,
And here and there thy banks upon
With Groves of myrrhe and cinnamon.

Com, Lady, while Heaven lends us grace,
Let us fly this cursed place,
Lest the Sorcerer us intice
With som other new device.
Not a waste or needless sound
Till we com to holier ground!
I shall be your faithfull guide
Through this gloomy covert wide;
And not many furlongs thence
Is your Fathers residence,
Where this night are met in state
Many a friend to gratulate
His wish’t presence; and, beside,
All the Swains that there abide,
With Jiggs, and rural dance resort.
We shall catch them at their sport,
And our sudden coming there
Will double all their mirth and chere.
Com let us haste, the Stars grow high,
But night sits monarch yet in the mid sky.

The Scene changes, presenting Ludlow Town, and the Presidents Castle; then com in Countrey-Dancers; after them the attendant Spirit, with the Two Brothers and the Lady.

SONG.

Spirit

Back, Shepherds, back! anough your play
Till next Sun-shine holiday.
Here be without duck or nod,
Other trippings to be trod
Of lighter toes; and such Court guise
As Mercury did first devise
With the mincing Dryades
On the Lawns and on the Leas.

 

This second Song presents them to their father and mother.

Noble Lord and Lady bright,
I have brought ye new delight:
Here behold so goodly grown
Three fair branches of your own;
Heav’n hath timely tri’d their youth,
Their faith, their patience, and their truth;
And sent them here through hard assays
With a crown of deathless Praise,
 To triumph in victorious dance
O’re sensual Folly and Intemperance.

The dances ended, the Spirit Epiloguizes.

Spirit

To the Ocean now I fly,
And those happy climes that ly
Where day never shuts his eye,
Up in the broad fields of the sky.
There I suck the liquid ayr
All amidst the Gardens fair
Of Hesperus, and his daughters three
That sing about the golden tree:
Along the crisped shades and bowres
Revels the spruce and jocond Spring;
The Graces, and the rosie-boosom’d Howres
Thither all their bounties bring.
That there eternal Summer dwels,
And West winds, with musky wing
About the cedar’n alleys fling
Nard and Cassia’s balmy smels.
Iris there, with humid bow,

XXIV

Iris there, with humid bow.

Waters the odorous banks that blow
Flowers of more mingled hew
Then her purfl’d scarf can shew;
And drenches with Elysian dew
(List mortals, if your ears be true)
Beds of Hyacinth and roses,
Where young Adonis oft reposes,
Waxing well of his deep wound
In slumber soft; and on the ground
Sadly sits th’ Assyrian Queen.
But far above, in spangled sheen,
Celestial Cupid her fam’d son, advanc’t,
Holds his dear Psyche, sweet intranc’t
After her wandring labours long;
Till free consent the gods among
Make her his eternal Bride;
And from her fair unspotted side
Two blissful twins are to be born,
Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn.
 But now my task is smoothly don:
I can fly or I can run
Quickly to the green earths end,
Where the bow’d welkin slow doth bend;
And from thence can soar as soon
To the corners of the Moon.
 Mortals that would follow me,
Love vertue; she alone is free:
She can teach ye how to clime
Higher then the Spheary chime;
Or, if Vertue feeble were,
Heav’n it self would stoop to her.

THE END.

Printed in Great Britain by
The Cornwall Press, Ltd., Paris Garden,
Stamford Street, London, S.F. 1.