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But must be current; and the good thereof
Consists in mutual and partaken bliss,
Unsavoury in the enjoyment of itself;
If you let slip time, like a neglected ruse,
It withers on the stalk, with languish'd head,
Beauty is Nature's brag, and must be shown
In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities,
Where most may wonder at the workmanship;
It is for homely features to keep home,
They had their names thence; coarse complexions,
And cheeks of sorry grain, will serve to ply
The sampler, and to tease the housewife's wool.
What need a vermeil-tinctur'd lip for that,
Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn?
There was another meaning in these gifts ;
Think what, and be advised, you are but young yet.

Lad. I had not thought to have unlock'd my lips
In this unhallow'd air, but that this juggler
Would think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes,
Obtrudin, talse rules, prank'd in Reason's garb.
I hate when Vice can bolt her arguments,
And Virtue has no tongue to check her pride.
Impostor, do not charge most innocent Nature,
As if she would her children should be riotous,
With her abundance; she, good cateress,
Means her provision only to the good,
That live according to her sober laws,
And holy dictate of spare temperance :
If every just man, that now pines with want,
Had but a moderate, and beseeming share
Of that, which lewdly-pamper'd Luxury
Now heaps upon some few, with vast excess,
Nature's full blessings would be well dispensed,
In unsuperfluous even proportion,
And she no whit encumber'd with her store;

Ind then the giver would be better thank'd, His praise due paid : for swinish Gluttony Ne'er looks to Heaven, amidst his gorgeous feast, But with besotted base ingratitude, Crams, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I go on? Or have I said enough? To him, that dares Arm his profane tongue, with contemptuous words, Against the sun-clad power of Chastity, Fain would I something say, yet to what end? Thou hast nor ear; nor soul, to apprehend The sublime rution, and high mystery, That must be utter'd, to unfold the sage

And serious doctrine of Virginity;
And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know
More happiness than this, thy present lot.
Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric,
That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence,
Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced :
Yet should I try, the uncontrolled worth
Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits,
To such a fame of sacred vehemence,
That dumb things would be moved to sympathize,
And the brute earth would lend her nerves, & shake,
Till all thy magic structures, rear'd so high,
Were shatter'd into heaps, o'er thy false head.

Com. She fables not, I feel that I do fear
Her words, set off by some superior power;
And though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering dew
Dips me all o'er, as when the wrath of Jove
Speaks thunder, and the chains of Erebus,
To some of Saturn's crew. I must dissemble,
And try her yet more strongly.—Come, no more ;
This is mere moral babble, and direct
Against the canon laws of our foundation ;
I must not suffer this; yet 'tis but the lees,
And settlings of a melancholy blood :
But this will cure all straight, one sip of this
Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight,
Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, & taste.

The BROTHERS rush in with swords drawn, wrest his

glass out of his hand, and break it against the ground; his rout make sign of resistance, but are all driven in. The ATTENDANT SPIRIT comes in.

What, have you let the false enchanter 'scape?
O ye mistook, ye should have snatch'd his wand,
And bound him fast; without his rod reversed,
And backward mutters of dissevering power,
We cannot free the lady, that sits here,
In stony fetters fix'd, and motionless :
Yet stay, be not disturb’d:

I bethink me,
Some other means I have, which may be us’d,
Which once of Melibæus old I learn’d,
The soothest shepherd that e'er piped on plains.

There is a gentle nymph not far from hence,
That, with moist curb, sways the smooth Severn
Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure; (stream,


Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,
That had the sceptre from his father Brute.
She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit
Of her enraged stepdame, Guendolen,
Commended her fair innocence to the flood,
That staid her flight, with his cross-flowing course.
The water-nymphs, that in the bottom play'd,
Held up their pearled wrists, and took her in,
Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall,
Who, piteous of her woes, rear'd her lank head,
And gave her to his daughters, to imbathe
In nectar'd lavers, strew'd with asphodel,
And, through the porch and inlet of each sense,
Dropp'd in ambrosial oils, till she revived,
And underwent a quick immortal change,
Made goddess of the river : still she retains
Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve
Visits the herds, along the twilight meadows,
Helping all urchin blasts, and ill-luck signs,
That the shrewd meddling elf delights to make,
Which she with precious vial'd liquors heals ;
For which, the shepherds, at their festivals,
Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays,
And throw sweet garland wreaths, into her stream,
Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils.
And, as the old swain said, she can unlock
The clasping charm, and thaw the numbing spell,
If she be right invoked in warbled song ;
For maidenhood she loves, and will be swift
To aid a virgin, such as was herself,
In hard-besetting need ; this will I try,
And add the power of some adjuring verse.


Sabrina fair,

Listen, where thou art sitting,
Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,

In twisted braids of lilies knitting
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair ;

Listen, for dear honour's sake,
Goddess of the silver lake.

Listen, and save.
Listen, and appear to us,
In name of great Oceanus,
By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace,
And Tethy's grave majestic pace,
By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look,

And the Carpathian wizard's hook,
By scaly Triton's winding shell,
And old sooth-saying Glaucus' spell,
By Leucothea's lovely hands,
And her son that rules the strands,
By Thetis’ tinsel-slipper'd feet,
And the songs of Syrens sweet,
By dead Parthenope's dear tomb,
And fair Ligea's golden comb,
Wherewith she sits, on diamond rocks,
Sleeking her soft alluring locks,
By all the nymphs that nightly dance
Upon thy streams, with wily glance,
Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head,
From thy coral-paven bed,
And bridle in thy headlong wave,
Till thou our summons answer'd have.

Listen, and save.
Sabrina rises, attended by Water-Nymphs, and sings.
By the rushy-fringed bank,
Where grows the willow and the osier dank,

My sliding chariot stays,
Thick set with agate, and the azure sheen
Of turkish blue, and emerald green,

That in the channel strays :
Whilst from off the waters fleet,
Thus I set my printless feet,
O'er the cowslip's velvet head,

That bends not as I tread;
Gentle swain, at thy request,

I am here.
Sp. Goddess dear,
We implore thy powerful hand,
To undo the charmed band
Of true virgin, here distress'd,
Through the force, and through the wile
Of unbless'd enchanter vile.

Sab. Shepherd, 'tis my office best
To help ensnared chastity :
Brightest lady, look on me;
Thus I sprinkle, on thy breast,
Drops that, from my fountain pure
I have kept of precious cure,
Thrice upon thy finger’s tip,
Thrice upon thy rubied lip;
Next this marble, venom'd seat,


Smear'd with gums of glutinous heat,
I touch, with chaste palms moist and cold :
Now the spell hath lost his hold :
And I must haste, ere morning hour,
To wait in Amphitrite's bower.
SABRINA descends, and the Lady rises out of her seat.

Sp. Virgin, daughter of Locrine
Sprung of old Anchises' line,
May thy brimmed waves, for this,
Their full tribute never miss,
From a thousand petty rills,
That tumble down the snowy hills ;
Summer drouth, or singed air,
Never scorch thy tresses fair,
Nor wet October's torrent flood
Thy molten chrystal fill with mud;
May thy billows roll ashore
The beryl, and the golden ore;
May thy lofty head be crowned
With many a tower and terrace round,
And here and there, thy banks upon,
With groves of myrrh and cinnamon.

Come, lady, while Heaven lends us grace,
Let us fly this cursed place,
Lest the sorcerer us entice,
With some other new device.
Not a waste, or needless sound,
Till we come to holier ground;
I shall be your faithful guide,
Through this gloomy covert wide,
And not many furlongs thence
Is your father's residence,
Where this night are met, in state,
Many a friend to gratulate
His wish'd presence; and, beside,
All the swains that there abide,
With jigs and rural dance, resort ;
We shall catch them at their sport,
And our sudden coming there
Will double all their mirth and cheer ;
Come, let us haste, the stars grow high
But night sits monarch yet, in the mid sky.

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