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I purs'd it up, but little reck'ning made,

Till now that this extremity compell'd:

But now I find it true; for by this means

I knew the foul enchanter though disguis'd,

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 you. go) you may

Boldly assault the necromancer's hall;

Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood,

And brandish'd blade, rush on him, break his glass,

And shed the luscious liquor on the ground,

But seize his wand; though he and his curs'd crew

Fierce sign of battle make, and menace high,

Or like the sons of Vulcan vomit smoke,

Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink.

El. Br. Thyrsis, lead on apace, I'll follow thee, And some good angel bear a shield before us.

The Scene changes to a stately palace, set out "with all manner of deliciousness: soft music, tables spread •with all dainties. Gomus appears with his rabble, and the Lady set in an enchanted chair, to •whom he offers his glass, -which she puts by, ami goes about to rise.

Com. 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.

Lad. Fool, do not boast.

Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind With all thy charms, although this corporal rind Thou hast immanacled, while Heav'n sees good.

Com. Why are you vex'd, lady? why do you

Here dwell no frowns, nor anger; from these gates
Sorrow flies far: see, here be all the pleasures.
That fancy can beget on youthful 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 syrups mix'd;
Not that Nepenthes, which the wife of Thone
In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena,
Is of such pow'r to stir up joy as this,
-To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst.
Why should you be so cruel to yourself*
And to those dainty limbs, which Nature lent
For gentle usage and soft delicacy?
But you invert the covenants of her trust,
And harshly deal, like an ill borrower,
With that which you receiv'd on other terms;

Scorning the unexemp'd 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.

Lad. 'Twill not, false traitor,

'Twill not restore the truth and honesty,
That thou hast banish'd from thy tongue with lies.
Was this the cottage, and the safe .abode
Thou toldst me of? What-grim aspects are these,
These ugly-headed monsters? Mercy guard me!
Hence with thy brew'd enchantments, foul de-

Hast thou betray'd my credulous innocence
With visor'd falsehood and base forgery?
And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here
With lickerish baits, fit to insnare a brute?
Were it a draught 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.

Com. O foolishness of men! that lend their ears
To those budge doctors of the Stoic fur,
And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub, ,
Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence.
Wherefore did Nature pour 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

To deck her sons; and, that no corner might
Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins
She. hutch'd th' all-worshipp'd ore and precious

To store her children with: if all the world
Should in a fit of temp'rance feed on pulse,
Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but

Th' all-giver would be unthank'd, 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 Nature's bastards, not her sons,
Who would be quite surcharg'd with her own
weight, .» - i

And strangled with her waste fertility;

Th' earth cumber'd, and the wing'd air dark'd

with plumes, The herds would over-multitude their lords, The sea o'erfraught would swell, and th' unsought

diamonds' Would so emblaze the forehead of the deep, And so bestud with stars, that they below Would grow inur'd to light, and come at last To gaze upon the sun with shameless brows. List, lady; be not coy, and be not cozen'd With that same vaunted name, virginity. Beauty is Nature's coin, must not be hoarded, But must be current; and the good thereof Consists in mutual and partaken bliss, Unsavoury in th'enjoyment of itself; r If you let slip time, like a neglected rose It withers on the stalk with languished 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 name thence; coarse complexions. And cheeks of sorry grain, will serve to ply The sampler, and to tease the housewife's wool. What need a vermil-tinctur'd lip for that, Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morni

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