To roule with pleasure in a sensual stie.
        Therfore when any favour'd of high Jove,
        Chances to pass through this adventrous glade,
        Swift as the Sparkle of a glancing Star,
        I shoot from Heav'n to give him safe convoy,
        As now I do: But first I must put off
        These my skie robes spun out of Iris Wooff,
        And take the Weeds and likenes of a Swain,
        That to the service of this house belongs,
        Who with his soft Pipe, and smooth-dittied Song,
        Well knows to still the wilde winds when they roar,
        And hush the waving Woods, nor of lesse faith,
        And in this office of his Mountain watch,
        Likeliest, and neerest to the present ayd
        Of this occasion. But I hear the tread
        Of hatefull steps, I must be viewless now.

  Comus enters with a Charming Rod in one hand, his Glass in the
other, with him a rout of Monsters, headed like sundry sorts of
wilde Beasts, but otherwise like Men and Women, their Apparel
glistring, they com in making a riotous and unruly noise, with Torches
in their hands.

          Comus. The Star 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 Atlantick stream,
        And the slope Sun his upward beam
        Shoots against the dusky Pole,
        Pacing toward the other gole
        Of his Chamber in the East.
        Mean while welcom Joy, and Feast,
        Midnight shout, and revelry,
        Tipsie dance, and Jollity.
        Braid your Locks with rosie Twine
        Dropping odours, dropping Wine.
        Rigor now is gon to bed,
        And Advice with scrupulous head,
        Strict Age, and sowre Severity,
        With their grave Saws in slumber ly.
        We that are of purer fire
        Imitate the Starry Quire,
        Who in their nightly watchfull Sphears,
        Lead in swift round the Months and Years.
        The Sounds, and Seas with all their finny drove
        Now to the Moon in wavering Morrice move,
        And on the Tawny Sands and Shelves,
        Trip the pert Fairies and the dapper Elves;
        By dimpled Brook, and Fountain brim,
        The Wood-Nymphs deckt with Daisies trim,
        Their merry wakes and pastimes keep:
        What hath night to do with sleep?
        Night hath better sweets to prove,
        Venus now wakes, and wak'ns Love.
        Com let us our rights begin,
        'Tis onely day-light that makes Sin
        Which these dun shades will ne're report.
        Hail Goddesse of Nocturnal sport
        Dark vaild Cotytto, t' whom the secret flame
        Of mid-night Torches burns; mysterious Dame
        That ne're art call'd, but when the Dragon woom
        Of Stygian darknes spets her thickest gloom,
        And makes one blot of all the ayr,
        Stay thy cloudy Ebon chair,
        Wherin thou rid'st with Hecat', and befriend
        Us thy vow'd Priests, til utmost end
        Of all thy dues be done, and none left out,
        Ere the blabbing Eastern scout,
        The nice Morn on th' Indian steep
        From her cabin'd loop hole peep,
        And to the tel-tale Sun discry
        Our conceal'd Solemnity.
        Com, knit hands, and beat the ground,
        In a light fantastick round.

                             The Measure

        Break off, break off, I feel the different pace,
        Of som chast footing neer about this ground.
        Run to your shrouds, within these Brakes and Trees,
        Our number may affright: Som Virgin sure
        (For so I can distinguish by mine Art)
        Benighted in these Woods. Now to my charms,
        And to my wily trains, I shall e're long
        Be well stock't with as fair a herd as graz'd
        About my Mother Circe. Thus I hurl
        My dazling Spells into the spungy ayr,
        Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion,
        Ada give it false presentments, lest the place
        And my quaint habits breed astonishment,
        And put the Damsel to suspicious flight,
        Which must not be, for that's against my course;
        I under fair pretence of friendly ends,
        And well plac't words of glozing courtesie
        Baited with reasons not unplausible
        Wind me into the easie-hearted man,
        And hugg him into snares. When once her eye
        Hath met the vertue of this Magick dust,
        I shall appear som harmles Villager