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!

365

I do not think my Sister so to seek,

Or fo unprincipled in virtue's book,

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

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

370

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 fecks to fweet retir'd folitude,

375

Where with her beft nurfe 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.

380

He that has light within his own clear breast

May fit i'th' center, and enjoy bright day:

Benighted walks under the mid-day fun;

But he that hides a dark foul, and foul thoughts,

Himself is his own dungeon.

2 BRO. 'Tis most true,

385

That mufing meditation most affects

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,

390

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

Or do his gray hairs any violence?

But beauty, like the fair Hefperian tree

Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard
Of dragon-watch with uninchanted eye,

395

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 misers' treasure by an cut-law's den,

400

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 surrounding waste.
Of night, or loneliness it recks me not;

I fear the dread events that dog them both,

Left some ill-greeting touch attempt the perfon
Of our unowned Sifter.

I BRO. I do not, Brother,

405

Infer, as if I thought my Sifter's state
Secure without all doubt, or controversy:

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

410

That I incline to hope, rather than fear,
And gladly bauifh fquint fufpicion.

My Sifter is not fo defenfelefs left

As you imagin; she' has a hidden strength

415

Which you remember not.

2 BRO. What hidden strength,

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

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 forefts, 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:

Yea there, where very defolation dwells,

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

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

420

425

430

435

Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.
Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call
Antiquity from the old schools of Greece

To teftify the arms of Chastity?

440

Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow,

Fair filver-fhafted queen, for ever chaste,

445

Wherewith fhe tam'd the brinded lionefs
And spotted mountain pard, but set at nought
The frivolous bolt of Cupid; Gods and men
Fear'd her ftern frown, and she was queen o'th' woods.
What was that fnaky-headed Gorgon shield,
That wife Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin,

Wherewith

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

But rigid looks of chaste austerity,

450

And noble grace that dash'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 thousand liveried Angels lacky her,
Driving far off each thing of fin and guilt,
And in clear dream, and folemn vifion,
Tell her of things that no grofs ear can hear,
Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants
Begin to caft a beam on th' outward fhape,

455

460

The unpolluted temple of the mind,

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

Till all be made immortal: but when luft,

By unchafte looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,

But moft by leud and lavish a&t of fin,

465

Lets in defilement to the inward parts,

The foul grows clotted by contagion,

Imbodies, and imbrutes, till the quite lofe
The divine property of her first being.

Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp
Oft seen 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

470

To a degenerate and degraded state.

475

2 BRO. How charming is divine philofophy!

Not harsh, and crabbed, as dull fools fuppofe,
But mufical as is Apollo's lute,

And

And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets,
Where no crude furfeit reigns.

I BRO. Lift, lift, I hear

Some far off hallow break the filent air.

2 BRO. Methought so too; what should it be?

I BRO. For certain

Either fome one like us night-founder'd here,

Or elfe fome neighbour wood-man, or, at worst,
Some roving robber calling to his fellows.

480

485

2 BRO. Heav'n keep my Sifter! Again, again, and Beft draw, and ftand upon our guard.

I BRO. I'll hallow;

If he be friendly, he comes well; if not,
Defense is a good caufe, and Heav'n be for us.

[near;

The attendent Spirit, habited like a shepherd.

That hallow I fhould know, what are you? speak; 490
Come not too near, you fall on iron ftakes elfe.
SPI. What voice is that? my young Lord? speak

again.

2 BRO. O brother, 'tis my father's fhepherd, fure. 1 BRO. Thyrfis? whose artful strains have oft de

lay'd

The huddling brook to hear his madrigal,

And fweeten'd every muskrofe of the dale.

How cam'ft thou here, good Swain? hath any ram
Slipt from the fold, or young kid lost his dam,
Or ftraggling wether the pent flock forfook?

495

How could'st thou find this dark fequefter'd nook? 500