Comus. Why are you vex'd, lady? why do you frown? Here dwell no frowns nor anger; from thefe gates Sorrow flies far. See, here be all the pleasures Than fancy can beget on youthful thoughts. And firft behold this cordial julep here, That flames and dances in his crystal bounds. Lady. Know, bafe deluder, that I will not tafte it. Keep thy detefted gifts for fuch as these. [Points to his crew. That have been tir'd all day without repaft, This will reftore all foon. But, fair virgin, Lady. "Twill not, false traitor! 'Twill not restore the truth and honefty That thou haft banish'd from thy tongue with lies. Thou told'st me of? Hence with thy brew'd enchant ments. Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets, I wou'd not tafte thy treas'nous offer-None, To a well-govern'd and wife appetite. Shall I go on? or have I said enough? That you are cheated by the lying boasts From fcorning pleafures which they cannot reach. Euphrofyne fings*. Preach not to me your mufty rules, Ye drones that mould in idle cell; Comus. Sung by Comus, as now performed at Covent-garden theatre. Comus. Lift, lady; be not coy, and be not cozen'd With that fame vaunted name virginity. What need a vermeil tinctur'd lip for that, Think what, and be advis'd: you are but young yet; One fip of this will bathe the drooping fpirits in delight, Beyond the blifs of dreams. Be wife, and taste.. [The Brothers rush in with fwords drawn, wrest the glafs out of his hand, and break it against the ground; his Rout make figns of refiftance, but are all driven off. Enter the firft Spirit. What, have you let the falfe enchanter 'scape? In ftony fetters fix'd and motionless. Yet ftay, be not difturb'd; now I bethink me. That fways the Severn ftream; fhe can unlock Sabrina fair, Liften where thou art fitting Under the glaffy, cool, tranflucent wave; Goddess of the filver lake, Liften and fave. Sabrina rifes and fings. By the rufhy-fringed bank, Where grows the willow and the ofier dank, Thick fet with agate, and the azure sheen That in the channel ftrays. Gentle fwain, at thy request, I am here. First Spirit. Goddefs dear, We implore thy powerful hand Of true virgin here diftrefs'd, Sab. RECITATIVE. I touch with chafte palms moift and cold: And I must hafte, ere morning-hour, [Sabrina defcends, and the Lady rifes out of her feat; r. Bro. Why did I doubt? Why tempt the wrath of heav'n To fhed juft vengeance on my weak distrust? E. Bro. The freedom of the mind, you see, no charm, Firft Spirit difcovering himself. I fhoot from heav'n to give him safe convoy. I can fly or I can run, VOL. IV. 2 U Quickly Quickly to the green earth's end,. Where the bow'd welkin flow doth bend; THE |