Enter'd the very lime-twigs of his spells,
        And yet came off: if you have this about you
        (As I will give you when we go) you may
        Boldly assault the necromancers hall;
        Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood,
        And brandish't blade rush on him, break his glass,
        And shed the lushious liquor on the ground,
        But sease his wand, though he and his curst crew
        Feirce signe of battail make, and menace high,
        Or like the sons of Vulcan vomit smoak,
        Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink.
          Eld. Bro. Thyrsis lead on apace, Ile follow thee,
        And som good angel bear a sheild before us.

  The Scene changes to a stately Palace, set out with all manner of
deliciousness; soft Musick, Tables spred with all dainties. Comus
appears with his rabble, and the Lady set in an inchanted Chair, to
whom he offers his Glass, which she puts by, and goes about to rise.

          Comus. Nay Lady sit; if I but wave this wand,
        Your nerves are all chain'd up in Alabaster,
        And you a statue; or as Daphne was
        Root-bound, that fled Apollo.
          La. Fool do not boast,
        Thou canst not touch the freedom of my minde
        With all thy charms, although this corporal rinde
        Thou haste immanacl'd, while Heav'n sees good.
          Co. Why are you vext Lady? why do you frown?
        Here dwell no frowns, nor anger, from these gates
        Sorrow flies farr: See here be all the pleasures
        That fancy can beget on youthfull thoughts,
        When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns
        Brisk as the April buds in Primrose-season.
        And first behold this cordial Julep here
        That flames, and dances in his crystal bounds
        With spirits of balm, and fragrant Syrops mixt.
        Not that Nepenthes which the wife of Thone,
        In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena
        Is of such power to stir up joy as this,
        To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst.
        Why should you be so cruel to your self,
        And to those dainty limms which nature lent
        For gentle usage, and soft delicacy?
        But you invert the cov'nants of her trust,
        And harshly deal like an ill borrower
        With that which you receiv'd on other terms,
        Scorning the unexempt condition
        By which all mortal frailty must subsist,
        Refreshment after toil, ease after pain,
        That have been tir'd all day without repast,
        And timely rest have wanted, but fair Virgin
        This will restore all soon.
          La. 'Twill not false traitor,
        'Twill not restore the truth and honesty
        That thou hast banish't from thy tongue with lies,
        Was this the cottage, and the safe abode
        Thou told'st me of? What grim aspects are these,
        These oughly-headed Monsters? Mercy guard me!
        Hence with thy brew'd inchantments, foul deceiver,
        Hast thou betrai'd my credulous innocence
        With visor'd falshood, and base forgery,
        And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here
        With lickerish baits fit to ensnare a brute?
        Were it a draft for Juno when she banquets,
        I would not taste thy treasonous offer; none
        But such as are good men can give good things,
        And that which is not good, is not delicious
        To a well-govern'd and wise appetite.
          Co. O foolishnes of men! that find their ears
        To those budge doctors of the Stoick Furr,
        And fetch their precepts from the Cynick Tub,
        Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence.
        Wherefore did Nature powre her bounties forth,
        With such a full and unwithdrawing hand,
        Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks,
        Thronging the Seas with spawn innumerable,
        But all to please, and sate the curious taste?
        And set to work millions of spinning Worms,
        That in their green shops weave the smooth-hair'd silk
        To deck her Sons, and that no corner might
        Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loyns
        She hutch't th' all-worshipt ore, and precious gems
        To store her children with; if all the world
        Should in a pet of temperance feed on Pulse,
        Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but Freize,
        Th' all-giver would be unthank't, would be unprais'd,
        Not half his riches known, and yet despis'd,
        And we should serve him as a grudging master,
        As a penurious niggard of his wealth,
        And live like Natures bastards, not her sons,
        Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight,
        And strangl'd with her waste fertility;
        Th' earth cumber'd, and the wing'd air dark't with plumes,
        The herds would over-multitude their Lords,
        The Sea o'refraught would swell, and th' unsought diamonds
        Would so emblaze the forhead of the Deep,
        And so bestudd with Stars, that they below
        Would grow inur'd to light, and com at last
        To gaze upon the Sun with shameless brows.
        List Lady be not coy, and be not cosen'd