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SLA. Gentle Villager,

What readiest way would bring me to that place? COM. Due west it rises from this shrubby point. LA. To find out that, good Shepherd, I suppose In such a scant allowance of star-light,

Would overtask the best land-pilot's art,

Without the sure guess of well practis'd feet. 310
'COM. I know each lane, and every alley green,
Dingle, or bushy dell of this wild wood,
And every bosky bourn from side to side,
My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood;
And if your stray-attendence be yet lodg'd,
Or shroud within these limits, I shall know
Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark
From her thatcht pallat rouse; if otherwise
I can conduct you, Lady, to a low

But loyal cottage, where you may be safe 320
Till further quest.

LA. Shepherd, I take thy word,

And trust thy honest offer'd courtesy,

Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds
With smoky rafters, than in tap'stry halls
And courts of princes, where it first was nam'd,
And yet is most pretended: in a place
Less warranted than this, or less secure,
I cannot be, that I should fear to change it.
Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial 330
To my proportion'd strength. Shepherd, lead on.

[Moon,

THE TWO BROTHERS.

E. BRO. Unmuffle ye faint Stars, and thou fair ·
That wont'st to love the traveller's-benizon,
Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud,
And disinherit Chaos, that reigns here
In double night of darkness and of shades;
Or if your influence be quite damm'd up
With black usurping mists, some gentle taper,
Though a rush candle from the wicker hole
Of some clay habitation, visit us

With thy long levell'd rule of streaming light
And thou shalt be our star of Arcady,
Or Tyrian Cynosure.

Y. BRO. Or if our eyes

340

Be barr'd that happiness, might we but hear
The folded flocks penn'd in their wattled cotes,
Or sound of past'ral reed with oaten stops,
Or whistle from the lodge or village cock
Count the night watches to his feathery dames,
'Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering
In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs,
But O that hapless virgin, our lost sister, 350
Where may she wander now, whither betake her,
From the chill dew, amongst rude burs and thistles?
Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now,
Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm
Leans her unpillow'd head fraught with sad fears.
What if in wild amazement, and affright,
Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp
Of
savage hunger, or of savage heat?

E. BRO. Peace, Brother, be not over-exquisite To cast the fashion of uncertain evils:

360

For grant they be so, while they rest unknown,
What need a man forestal his date of grief,
And run to meet what he would most avoid?
Or if they be but false alarms of fears,
How bitter is such self delusion?

I do not think my sister so to seek,
Or so unprincipled in Virtue's book,

And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever,
As that the single 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 misbecoming plight.

Virtue could see to do what Virtue would
By her own radiant light, though sun and moon
Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self
Oft seeks to sweet retired Solitude,

Where with her best nurse, Contemplation,
She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings,
That in the various bustle of resort

Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impair'd. 380
He that has light within his own clear breast
May sit i' th' center, and enjoy bright day :
But he that hides a dark soul, and foul thoughts,
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun:
Himself is his own dungeon.

Y. BRO. Tis most true,

That musing meditation most affects

The pensive secrecy of desert cell,

Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds,
And sits as safe as in a senate house;

For who would rob a hermit of his weeds, 390
His few books, or his beads, or maple dish,
Or do his grey hairs any violence?

But Beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree
Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard
Of dragon watch, with uninchanted eye,
To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit
From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.
You may as well spread out the unsunn'd heaps
Of misers' treasure by an outlaw's den,
And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope
Danger will wink an Opportunity,
And let a single helpless maiden pass
Uninjur'd in this wild surrounding waste.
Of night, or loneliness it recks me not;
I fear the dread events that dog them both,
Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person
unowned sister.

Of

our

E. BRO. I do not, Brother,

Infer, as if I thought my sister's state

Secure without all doubt, or controversy:

400

Yet where an equal poise of hope and fear 410

Does arbitrate th' event, my nature is

That I incline to hope, rather than fear,
And gladly banish squint Suspicion.
My sister is not so defenceless left
As you imagin; she has hidden strength,
Which you remember not,

Y. BRO. What hidden strength,

Unless the strength of Heav'n, if you mean that?

420

E. 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 complete steel,
And like a quiver'd`nymph with arrows keen
May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths,
Infamous hills and sandy perlious wilds,
Where through the sacred rays of Chastity,
No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer
Will dare to soil her virgin purity:
Yea there, where every Desolation dwells
By grots, and caverns shagg'd with horrid shades,
She may pass on with unblench'd majesty,
Be it not done in pride, or in presumption.
Some say 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 swart faery of the mine
Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.
Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call
Antiquity from the old schools of Greece
To testify the arms of Chastity?

Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow
Fair silver-shafted queen, for ever chaste,
Wherewith she tam'd the brinded lioness
And spotted mountain pard, but set at nought
The frivolous bolt of Cupid; gods and men

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