Stoop thy pale vifage through an amber cloud,
And difinherit Chaos, that reigns here
In double night of darkness and of shades;
Or if your influence be quite damm'd up
With black ufurping mifts, fome gentle taper,
Though a rufh-candle from the wicker hole

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Of fome clay habitation, vifit us

With thy long level'd rule of streaming light,
And thou shalt be our ftar of Arcady,

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Or Tyrian Cynofure.

2 BRO. Or if our eyes

Be barr'd that happiness, might we but hear
The folded flocks penn'd in their watled cotes,
Or found of paftoral reed with oaten stops,
Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock
Count the night watches to his feathery dames,
'Twould be fome folace yet, fome little chearing
In this clofe dungeon of innumerous boughs.
But O that hapless virgin, our lost Sister,

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Where may she wander now, whither betake her
From the chill dew, amongst rude burs and thistles?
Perhaps fome cold bank is her bolster now,

Or 'gainst the rugged bark of fome broad elm
Leans her unpillow'd head fraught with fad fears. 355
What if in wild amazement, and affright,

Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp

Of favage hunger, or of favage heat?

I BRO. Peace, Brother, be not over-exquifite
To caft the fashion of uncertain evils:
For grant they be fo, while they rest unknown,

360

What

What need a man forestall his date of grief,
And run to meet what he would moft avoid?
Or if they be but false alarms of fear,
How bitter is fuch felf-delufion!

I do not think my Sifter fo to feek,

Or fo unprincipled in virtue's book,

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And the fweet peace that goodness bosoms ever,
As that the fingle want of light and noise

(Not being in danger, as I trust she is not)

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Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts, And put them into mif-becoming plight.

Virtue could fee to do what virtue would

By her own radiant light, though fun and moon

Were in the flat fea funk. And wifdom's felf
Oft feeks to fweet retir'd folitude,

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Where with her beft nurse contemplation

She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings,
That in the various buftle of refort

Were all too ruffled, and fometimes impair'd.

He that has light within his own clear breast

May fit i'th' center, and enjoy bright day :
But he that hides a dark foul, and foul thoughts,
Benighted walks under the mid-day fun;
Himself is his own dungeon.

2 BRO. 'Tis most true,

That mufing meditation most affects

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The penfive fecrecy of defert cell,

Far from the chearful haunt of men and herds,

And fits as fafe as in a fenate house;

For who would rob a hermit of his weeds,

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His few books, or his beads, or maple dish,

Or do his gray hairs any violence?

But beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree
Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard
Of dragon-watch with uninchanted eye,

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To fave her bloffoms, and defend her fruit
From the rash hand of bold incontinence.

You may as well spread out the unfunn'd heaps

Of mifers' treasure by an out-law's den,

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And tell me it is fafe, as bid me hope
Danger will wink on opportunity,
And let a fingle helpless maiden pafs
Uninjur'd in this wild furrounding waste.
Of night, or loneliness it recks me not;

I fear the dread events that dog them both,

Of our unowned Sifter.

I BRO. I do not, Brother,

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Left fome ill-greeting touch attempt the person

Infer, as if I thought my Sifter's state

Secure without all doubt, or controversy:

Yet where an equal poife of hope and fear
Does arbitrate th' event, my nature is

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That I incline to hope, rather than fear,
And gladly bauifh fquint fufpicion.
My Sifter is not fo defenfeless left

As you imagin; she' has a hidden strength

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Which you remember not.

2 BRO. What hidden ftrength,

Unless the strength of Heav'n, if you mean that?
I BRO. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength,

K 4

Which

Which if Heav'n gave it, may be term'd her own: 'Tis chastity, my Brother, chastity:

She that has that, is clad in cómplete steel,

And like a quiver'd nymph with arrows keen
May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths,
Infamous hills, and fandy perilous wilds,
Where, through the facred rays of chastity,
No favage fierce, bandite, or mountaneer
Will dare to foil her virgin purity:

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Yea there, where very defolation dwells,

By grots, and caverns fhagg'd with horrid shades,
She may pass on with unblench'd majesty,

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Be it not done in pride, or in prefumption.
Some fay no evil thing that walks by night,
In fog, or fire, by lake, or moorish fen,
Blue meager hag, or stubborn unlaid ghoft,
That breaks his magic chains at Curfeu time,
No goblin, or fwart faery of the mine,

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Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.

Do ye believe me yet, or fhall I call
Antiquity from the old fchools of Greece

To testify the arms of Chastity?

440

Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow,

Fair filver-fhafted queen, for ever chaste,

Wherewith fhe tam'd the brinded lionefs
And spotted mountain pard, but set at nought
The frivolous bolt of Cupid; Gods and men

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Fear'd her ftern frown, and she was queen o'th' woods. What was that fnaky-headed Gorgon shield,

Wherewith the freez'd her foes to congeal'd stone,

But rigid looks of chaste austerity,

450

And noble grace that dafh'd brute violence

With fudden adoration, and blank awe?
So dear to Heav'n is faintly chastity,
That when a foul is found fincerely fo,
A thoufand liveried Angels lacky her,
Driving far off each thing of fin and guilt,
And in clear dream, and folemn vision,
Tell her of things that no grofs ear can hear,
Till oft converfe with heav'nly habitants
Begin to caft a beam on th' outward shape,
The unpolluted temple of the mind,

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460

And turns it by degrees to the foul's effence,

Till all be made immortal: but when luft,

By unchafte looks, loose geftures, and foul talk,

But most by leud and lavish act of fin,

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Lets in defilement to the inward parts,
The foul grows clotted by contagion,
Imbodies, and imbrutes, till fhe quite lofe
The divine property of her first being.

Such are thofe thick and gloomy fhadows damp
Oft feen in charnel vaults, and fepulchers,
Lingering, and fitting by a new-made grave,
As loath to leave the body that it lov'd,
And link'd itself by carnal fenfuality
To a degenerate and degraded state.

2 BRO. How charming is divine philosophy ! Not harsh, and crabbed, as dull fools fuppofe, But mufical as is Apollo's lute,

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And