Spir: Care and utmost shifts How to secure the lady from surprisal, Brought to my mind a certain Shepherd Lad Of small regard to see to, yet well skill'd 620 In every vertuous plant and healing herb That spreds her verdant leaf to th'morning ray, He lov'd me well, and oft would beg me sing, Which when I did, he on the tender grass Would sit, and hearken even to extasie, And in requitall ope his leather'n scrip, And shew me simples of a thousand names Telling their strange and vigorous faculties; Amongst the rest a small unsightly root, But of divine effect, he cull'd me out; 630 The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it, But in another Countrey, as he said, Bore a bright golden flowre, but not in this soyl: Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swayn Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon, And yet more med'cinal is it then that Moly That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave; He call'd it Haemony, and gave it me, And bad me keep it as of sov'ran use 'Gainst all inchantments, mildew blast, or damp 640 Or gastly furies apparition; I purs't 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 inchanter 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 we go) you may Boldly assault the necromancers hall; Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood, 650 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 Alablaster, 660 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.