And downward fell into a groveling swine)

This Nymph that gaz'd upon his clustering locks,
With ivy berries wreath'd, and his blithe youth,
Had by him, ere he parted thence, a fon
Much like his father, but his mother more,

Whom therefore fhe brought up, and Comus nam'd, Who, ripe, and frolic of his full grown age,

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To quench the drouth of Phoebus, which as they taste, (For most do taste through fond intemperate thirst) Soon as the potion works, their human count'nance, Th' express resemblance of the Gods, is chang'd

Into fome brutish form of wolf, or bear,

Or ounce, or tiger, hog, or bearded goat,

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All other parts remaining as they were;
And they, fo perfect is their misery,

Not once perceive their foul disfigurement,

But boast themselves more comely than before,
And all their friends and native home forget,
To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty.
Therefore when any favor'd of high Jove
Chances to pass through this adventrous glade,
Swift as the fparkle of a glancing star

I shoot from Heav'n, to give him safe convoy,
As now I do: But first I must put off

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Thefe

These my sky robes spun out of Iris' woof,

And take the weeds and likeness of a swain,
That to the service of this houfe belongs,

Who with his foft-pipe, and fmooth dittied song,
Well knows to ftill the wild winds when they roar,
And hush the waving woods, nor of lefs faith,
And in this office of his mountain watch,

Likelieft, and nearest to the present aid

Of this occafion.

But I hear the tread

Of hateful steps. I must be viewless now.

Comus enters with a charming-rod in one hand, his glafs in the other; with him a rout of monsters, headed like fundry forts of wild beasts, but otherwife like men and women, their apparel glistering; they come in making a riotous and unruly noise, with torches in their hands.

.COM. The ftar that bids the shepherd fold,

Now the top of Heav'n doth hold,

And the gilded car of day

His glowing axle doth allay
In the steep, Atlantic stream,
And the flope fun his upward beam
Shoots against the dusky pole,

Pacing toward the other goal

Of his chamber in the caft.
Mean while welcome Joy, and Feast,
Midnight Shout, and Revelry,
Tipfy Dance, and Jollity.

Braid your locks with rofy twine,

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300

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Dropping odors, dropping wine.

Lead in fwift round the months and years.
The founds and feas, with all their finny drove,
Now to the moon in wavering morrice move;
And on the tawny fands and shelves

Trip the pert faeries and the dapper elves.
By dimpled brook, and fountain brim,
The Wood-Nymphs deck'd with daisies trim,
Their merry wakes and pastimes keep:
What hath night to do with sleep?
Night hath better sweets to prove,

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Venus now wakes, and wakens love.

Come let us our rites begin,

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'Tis only day-light that makes fin,

Which thefe dun fhades will ne'er report.
Hail Goddess of nocturnal sport,

Dark-veil'd Cotytto, t' whom the secret flame
Of midnight torches burns; mysterious dame,
That ne'er art call'd, but when the dragon womb
Of Stygian darkness spits her thickest gloom
And makes one blot of all the air,

Stay thy cloudy ebon chair,

Wherein thou rid'ft with Hecat', and befriend
Us thy yow'd priests, till utmost end

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of

Of all thy dues be done, and none left out,
Ere the blabbing eastern scout,

The nice morn on th' Indian fteep

From her cabin'd loophole peep,

And to the tell-tale fun defcry

Our conceal'd folemnity.

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

The MEASURE.

Break off, break off, I feel the different pace
Of fome chafte footing near about this ground.

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Run to your shrouds, within these brakes and trees;
Our number may affright: Some virgin fure
(For fo I can distinguish by mine art)

Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms, 150
And to my wily trains; I fhall ere long
Be well-ftock'd with as fair a herd as graz'd
About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl
My dazling spells into the spungy air,

Of power to cheat the eye with blear illufion

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And give it falfe prefentments, left the place
And my quaint habits breed astonishment,
And put the damfel to fufpicious flight,

Which must not be, for that's against my course;
I under fair pretence of friendly ends,

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And well-plac'd words of glozing courtesy

Baited with reasons not unplausible,

Wind me into the easy-hearted man,

And hug him into fnares. When once her eye

Hath

Hath met the virtue of this magic dust,

I shall appear fome harmless villager,

Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear.
But here fhe comes, I fairly step afide,

And hearken, if I may, her business here.

The LADY enters.

This way the noife was, if mine ear be true,
My best guide now; methought it was the found
Of riot and ill-manag'd merriment,

Such as the jocond flute, or gamesome pipe,
Stirs up among the loose unletter'd hinds,

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When for their teeming flocks, and granges full, 175
In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan,
And thank the Gods amifs. I fhould be loath
To meet the rudeness and fwill'd infolence

Of fuch late waffailers; yet O where else
Shall I inform my unacquainted feet
In the blind mazes of this tangled wood?
My Brothers, when they faw me wearied out
With this long way, refolving here to lodge
Under the spreading favor of these pines,
Stept, as they said, to the next thicket fide

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To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit

As the kind hofpitable woods provide.

They left me then, when the gray-hooded Even,
Like a fad votarift in palmer's weed,

Rofe from the hindmoft wheels of Phoebus' wain, 190
But where they are, and why they came not back,
Is now the labor of my thoughts; 'tis likeliest

They