imal heads._]

_Comus._ Now the sun has gone from the western heavens and the star of
night shines over us. This is the hour we love the best. All the
serious, wise old people who love the day and its work are weary now and
have gone to bed. We who love fun and a merry dance, we wake when the
sky is flecked with golden stars. Now the moon calls the fairies from
brook and fountain to play their merry games and sing. These are the
joys of night in our dark and secret grove. Come, make a merry ring and
dance. No care have we nor fear. We will dance and sing until the first
ray of light is seen in the east.

[_They dance until Comus speaks._]

_Comus._ Break off! break off! I hear a footstep not our own approaching
this place. Run to your places lest you frighten the traveler whoever it
may be.

[_They disappear._]

I believe some maiden approaches. I will weave my spells and appear to
her in the dress of a shepherd and she will not be afraid. Here she
comes. I will step aside and learn how she happens to be alone in my
grove.

[_Comus hides._]

_Lady Alice_ (_entering_). I thought I heard the sound of noisy
merrymaking,--with music as if many were dancing. Here was the sound,
but here I see no one. Alas! I should be sorry to meet rude youths, but
where can I go, what can I do, left alone in this dark and gloomy wood?
O my brothers, where are you? When they saw me wearied, unable to go
farther, they left to find me nourishment and shelter, promising soon to
return. Truly they must be lost in this vast forest. O dark night, why
have you stolen the way from them and left me alone and helpless?
Helpless? No, not helpless, for the good mind has helpers ever present
in pure-eyed Faith and white-handed Hope. I will pray to God, who will
send me a guardian to guide me to my home. What is that light I see? My
brothers seek me and I will sing to them. Perhaps they are not far away
and will hear my voice.

Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen
Within thy airy shell,
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair
That likest thy Narcissus are?
O if thou have
Hid them in some flowery cave,
Tell me but where,
Sweet Queen of Parley, Daughter of the Sphere!

_Comus_ (_to himself_). What sweet song is this? Can any mortal sing
with such charm and beauty? Such sacred and home-felt delight I never
heard till now. I'll speak to her, and she shall be my queen.

_Comus_ (_dressed as a shepherd_).