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And downward fell into a groveling swine)
70 Or ounce, or tiger, hog, or bearded goat, All other parts remaining as they were; And they, so perfect is their misery, Not once perceive their foul disfigurement, But boast themselves more comely than before,
75 And all their friends and native home forget, To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty. Therefore when any favor’d of high Jove Chances to pass through this adventrous glade, Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star
80 I shoot from Heav'n, to give him safe convoy, As now I do: But first I must put off
These my sky robes fpun out of Iris' woof,
90 Of this occasion. But I hear the tread Of hateful 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 wild beasts, but otherwise like men and women, their apparel glistering; they come in making a riotous and unruly noise, with torches in their hands.
Com. The star that bids the shepherd fold,
105 Dropping odors, dropping wine.
Rigor now is gone to bed,
fire Imitate the starry quire, Who, in their nightly watchful spheres, Lead in swift round the months and years. The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove, 115 Now to the moon in wavering morrice move; And on the tawny sands and shelves Trip the pert faeries and the dapper elves. By dimpled brook, and fountain brim, The Wood-Nymphs deck'd 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 wakens love. Come let us our rites begin,
125 'Tis only day-light that makes fin, Which these dun shades will ne'er report. Hail Goddess of nocturnal sport, Dark-veil'd Cotytto, t' whom the secret flame Of midnight torches burns; mysterious dame, 130 That ne'er art call'd, but when the dragon womb Of Stygian darkness spits her thickest gloom And makes one blot of all the air, Stay thy cloudy ebon chair, Wherein thou rid'st with Hecat', and befriend
135 Us thy vow'd priests, till utmost end
Of all thy dues be done, and none left out,
The MEASURE. Break off, break off, I feel the different pace 145 Of some chalte footing near about this ground. Run to your shrouds, within these brakes and trees; Our number may affright: Some virgin sure (For so I can distinguish by mine art) Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms, 150 And to my wily trains; I fall ere long Be well-Itock'd with as fair a herd as graz’d About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl My dazling spells into the fpungy air, Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion And give it false presentments, lest the place And my quaint habits breed aitonihment, And put the damsel to fufpicious flight, Which must not be, for that's against my course; I under fair pretence of friendly ends,
160 And well-plac'd words of glozing courtesy Baited with reasons not unplausible, Wind me into the easy-hearted man, And hug him into fnares. When once her eye
Hath met the virtue of this magic dust,
The LADY enters.
the noise was, if mine ear be true,
the loose unletter'd hinds,
180 In the blind mazes of this tangled wood ? My Brothers, when they saw me wearied out With this long way, resolving here to lodge Under the spreading favor of these pines, Stept, as they faid, to the next thicket fide
185 To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit As the kind hofpitable woods provide. They left me then, when the gray-hooded Even, Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed, Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain, 190 But where they are, and why they came not back, Is now the labor of my thoughts ; 'tis likeliest