Part 11

_Raph._ Sufficient causes only work the effect, When necessary agents they respect. Such is not man; who, though the cause suffice, Yet often he his free assent denies.

_Adam._ What causes not, is not sufficient still.

_Gab._ Sufficient in itself; not in thy will.

_Raph._ When we see causes joined to effects at last, The chain but shews necessity that's past. That what's done is: (ridiculous proof of fate!) Tell me which part it does necessitate? I'll cruise the other; there I'll link the effect. O chain, which fools, to catch themselves, project!

_Adam._ Though no constraint from heaven, or causes, be, Heaven may prevent that ill he does foresee; And, not preventing, though he does not cause, He seems to will that men should break his laws.

_Gab._ Heaven may permit, but not to ill consent; For, hindering ill, he would all choice prevent. 'Twere to unmake, to take away the will.

_Adam._ Better constrained to good, than free to ill.

_Raph._ But what reward or punishment could be, If man to neither good nor ill were free? The eternal justice could decree no pain To him whose sins itself did first ordain; And good, compelled, could no reward exact: His power would shine in goodness, not thy act. Our task is done: Obey; and, in that choice, Thou shalt be blest, and angels shall rejoice. [RAPHAEL _and_ GABRIEL _fly up in the Cloud: the other Angels go off._

_Adam._ Hard state of life! since heaven foreknows my will, Why am I not tied up from doing ill? Why am I trusted with myself at large, When he's more able to sustain the charge? Since angels fell, whose strength was more than mine, 'Twould show more grace my frailty to confine. Fore-knowing the success, to leave me free, Excuses him, and yet supports not me.

_To him_ EVE.

_Eve._ Behold, my heart's dear lord, how high the sun Is mounted, yet our labour not begun. The ground, unhid, gives more than we can ask; But work is pleasure when we chuse our task. Nature, not bounteous now, but lavish grows; Our paths with flowers she prodigally strows; With pain we lift up our entangled feet, While cross our walks the shooting branches meet.

_Adam._ Well has thy care advised; 'tis fit we haste; Nature's too kind, and follows us too fast; Leaves us no room her treasures to possess, But mocks our industry with her excess; And, wildly wanton, wears by night away The sign of all our labours done by day.

_Eve._ Since, then, the work's so great, the hands so few, This day let each a several task pursue. By thee, my hands to labour will not move, But, round thy neck, employ themselves in love. When thou would'st work, one tender touch, one smile (How can I hold?) will all thy task beguile.

_Adam._ So hard we are not to our labour tied, That smiles, and soft endearments are denied; Smiles, not allowed to beasts, from reason move, And are the privilege of human love: And if, sometimes, each others eyes we meet, Those little vacancies from toil are sweet. But you, by absence, would refresh your joys, Because perhaps my conversation cloys. Yet this, would prudence grant, I could permit.

_Eve._ What reason makes my small request unfit?

_Adam._ The fallen archangel, envious of our state, Pursues our beings with immortal hate; And, hopeless to prevail by open force, Seeks hid advantage to betray us worse; Which when asunder will not prove so hard; For both together are each other's guard.

_Eve._ Since he, by force, is hopeless to prevail, He can by fraud alone our minds assail: And to believe his wiles my truth can move, Is to misdoubt my reason, or my love.

_Adam._ Call it my care, and not mistrust of thee; Yet thou art weak, and full of art is he; Else how could he that host seduce to sin, Whose fall has left the heavenly nation thin?

_Eve._ I grant him armed with subtilty and hate; But why should we suspect our happy state? Is our perfection of so frail a make, As every plot can undermine or shake? Think better both of heaven, thyself, and me: Who always fears, at ease can never be. Poor state of bliss, where so much care is shown, As not to dare to trust ourselves alone!

_Adam._ Such is our state, as not exempt from fall; Yet firm, if reason to our aid we call: And that, in both, is stronger than in one; I would not,--why would'st thou, then, be alone?

_Eve._ Because, thus warned, I know myself secure, And long my little trial to endure, To approve my faith, thy needless fears remove, Gain thy esteem, and so deserve thy love. If all this shake not thy obdurate will, Know that, even present, I am absent still: And then what pleasure hop'st thou in my stay, When I'm constrained, and wish myself away?

_Adam._ Constraint does ill with love and beauty suit; I would persuade, but not be absolute. Better be much remiss, than too severe; If pleased in absence thou wilt still be here. Go; in thy native innocence proceed, And summon all thy reason at thy need.

_Eve._ My soul, my eyes delight! in this I find Thou lov'st; because to love is to be kind. [_Embracing him._ Seeking my trial, I am still on guard: Trials, less sought, would find us less prepared. Our foe's too proud the weaker to assail, Or doubles his dishonour if he fail. [_Exit._

_Adam._ In love, what use of prudence can there be? More perfect I, and yet more powerful she. Blame me not, heaven; if thou love's power hast tried, What could be so unjust to be denied? One look of hers my resolution breaks; Reason itself turns folly when she speaks: And awed by her, whom it was made to sway, Flatters her power, and does its own betray. [_Exit._

_The middle part of the Garden is represented, where four Rivers meet: On the right side of the Scene is placed the Tree of Life; on the left, the Tree of Knowledge._

_Enter_ LUCIFER.

_Lucif._ Methinks the beauties of this place should mourn; The immortal fruits and flowers, at my return, Should hang their withered heads; for sure my breath Is now more poisonous, and has gathered death Enough, to blast the whole creation's frame. Swoln with despite, with sorrow, and with shame, Thrice have I beat the wing, and rode with night About the world, behind the globe of light, To shun the watch of heaven; such care I use: (What pains will malice, raised like mine, refuse? Not the most abject form of brutes to take.) Hid in the spiry volumes of the snake, I lurked within the covert of a brake, Not yet descried. But see, the woman here Alone! beyond my hopes! no guardian near. Good omen that: I must retire unseen, And, with my borrowed shape, the work begin. [_Retires._

_Enter_ EVE.

_Eve._ Thus far, at least, with leave; nor can it be A sin to look on this celestial tree: I would not more; to touch, a crime may prove: Touching is a remoter taste in love. Death may be there, or poison in the smell, (If death in any thing so fair can dwell:) But heaven forbids: I could be satisfied, Were every tree but this, but this denied.

_A Serpent enters on the Stage, and makes directly to the Tree of Knowledge, on which winding himself, he plucks an Apple; then descends, and carries it away._

Strange sight! did then our great Creator grant That privilege, which we, their masters, want, To these inferior brings? Or was it chance? And was he blest with bolder ignorance? I saw his curling crest the trunk enfold: The ruddy fruit, distinguished o'er with gold. And smiling in its native wealth, was torn From the rich bough, and then in triumph borne: The venturous victor marched unpunished hence, And seemed to boast his fortunate offence.

_To her_ LUCIFER, _in a human Shape._

_Lucif._ Hail, sovereign of this orb! formed to possess The world, and, with one look, all nature bless. Nature is thine; thou, empress, dost bestow On fruits, to blossom; and on flowers, to blow. They happy, yet insensible to boast Their bliss: More happy they who know thee most. Then happiest I, to human reason raised, And voice, with whose first accents thou art praised.

_Eve._ What art thou, or from whence? For on this ground, Beside my lord's, ne'er heard I human sound. Art thou some other Adam, formed from earth, And comest to claim an equal share, by birth, In this fair field? Or sprung of heavenly race?

_Lucif._ An humble native of this happy place, Thy vassal born, and late of lowest kind, Whom heaven neglecting made, and scarce designed, But threw me in, for number, to the rest, Below the mounting bird and grazing beast; By chance, not prudence, now superior grown.

_Eve._ To make thee such, what miracle was shown?

_Lucif._ Who would not tell what thou vouchsaf'st to hear? Sawest thou not late a speckled serpent rear His gilded spires to climb on yon' fair tree? Before this happy minute I was he.

_Eve._ Thou speak'st of wonders: Make thy story plain.

_Lucif._ Not wishing then, and thoughtless to obtain So great a bliss, but led by sense of good, Inborn to all, I sought my needful food: Then, on that heavenly tree my sight I cast; The colour urged my eye, the scent my taste. Not to detain thee long,--I took, did eat: Scarce had my palate touched the immortal meat, But, on a sudden, turned to what I am, God-like, and, next to thee, I fair became; Thought, spake, and reasoned; and, by reason found Thee, nature's queen, with all her graces crowned.

_Eve._ Happy thy lot; but far unlike is mine: Forbid to eat, not daring to repine. 'Twas heaven's command; and should we disobey, What raised thy being, ours must take away.

_Lucif._ Sure you mistake the precept, or the tree: Heaven cannot envious of his blessings be. Some chance-born plant he might forbid your use, As wild, or guilty of a deadly juice; Not this, whose colour, scent divine, and taste, Proclaim the thoughtful Maker not in haste.

_Eve._ By all these signs, too well I know the fruit, And dread a Power severe and absolute.

_Lucif._ Severe, indeed; even to injustice hard; If death, for knowing more, be your reward: Knowledge of good, is good, and therefore fit; And to know ill, is good, for shunning it.

_Eve._ What, but our good, could he design in this, Who gave us all, and placed in perfect bliss?

_Lucif._ Excuse my zeal, fair sovereign, in your cause, Which dares to tax his arbitrary laws. 'Tis all his aim to keep you blindly low, That servile fear from ignorance may flow: We scorn to worship whom too well we know. He knows, that, eating, you shall godlike be; As wise, as fit to be adored, as he. For his own interest he this law has given; Such beauty may raise factions in his heaven. By awing you he does possession keep, And is too wise to hazard partnership.

_Eve._ Alas, who dares dispute with him that right? The Power, which formed us, must be infinite.

_Luc._ Who told you how your form was first designed? The sun and earth produce, of every kind, Grass, flowers, and fruits; nay, living creatures too: Their mould was base; 'twas more refined in you: Where vital heat, in purer organs wrought, Produced a nobler kind raised up to thought; And that, perhaps, might his beginning be: Something was first; I question if 'twere he. But grant him first, yet still suppose him good, Not envying those he made, immortal food.

_Eve._ But death our disobedience must pursue.

_Lucif._ Behold, in me, what shall arrive to you. I tasted; yet I live: Nay, more; have got A state more perfect than my native lot. Nor fear this petty fault his wrath should raise: Heaven rather will your dauntless virtue praise, That sought, through threatened death, immortal good: Gods are immortal only by their food. Taste, and remove What difference does 'twixt them and you remain; As I gained reason, you shall godhead gain.

_Eve._ He eats, and lives, in knowledge greater grown: [_Aside._ Was death invented then for us alone? Is intellectual food to man denied, Which brutes have with so much advantage tried? Nor only tried themselves, but frankly, more, To me have offered their unenvied store?

_Lucif._ Behold, and all your needless doubts remove; View well this tree, (the queen of all the grove) How vast her hole, how wide her arms are spread, How high above the rest she shoots her head, Placed in the midst: would heaven his work disgrace, By planting poison in the happiest place?

Haste; you lose time and godhead by delay. [_Plucking the fruit._

_Eve._ 'Tis done; I'll venture all, and disobey. [_Looking about her._ Perhaps, far hid in heaven, he does not spy, And none of all his hymning guards are nigh. To my dear lord the lovely fruit I'll bear; He, to partake my bliss, my crime shall share. [_Exit hastily._

_Lucif._ She flew, and thanked me not, for haste: 'Twas hard, With no return such counsel to reward. My work is done, or much the greater part; She's now the tempter to ensnare his heart. He, whose firm faith no reason could remove, Will melt before that soft seducer, love. [_Exit._

## ACT V.

## SCENE I.--_Paradise._

EVE, _with a bough in her hand._

_Eve._ Methinks I tread more lightly on the ground; My nimble feet from unhurt flowers rebound: I walk in air, and scorn this earthly seat; Heaven is my palace; this my base retreat. Take me not, heaven, too soon; 'twill be unkind To leave the partner of my bed behind. I love the wretch; but stay, shall I afford Him part? already he's too much my lord. 'Tis in my power to be a sovereign now; And, knowing more, to make his manhood bow. Empire is sweet; but how if heaven has spied? If I should die, and He above provide Some other Eve, and place her in my stead? Shall she possess his love, when I am dead? No; he shall eat, and die with me, or live: Our equal crimes shall equal fortune give.

_Enter_ ADAM.

_Adam._ What joy, without your sight, has earth, in store! While you were absent, Eden was no more. Winds murmured through the leaves your long delay, And fountains, o'er the pebbles, chid your stay: But with your presence cheered, they cease to mourn, And walks wear fresher green at your return.

_Eve._ Henceforth you never shall have cause to chide; No future absence shall our joys divide: 'Twas a short death my love ne'er tried before, And therefore strange; but yet the cause was more.

_Adam._ My trembling heart forebodes some ill; I fear To ask that cause which I desire to hear. What means that lovely fruit? what means, alas! That blood, which flushes guilty in your face? Speak--do not--yet, at last, I must be told.

_Eve._ Have courage, then: 'tis manly to be bold. This fruit--why dost thou shake? no death is nigh: 'Tis what I tasted first; yet do not die.

_Adam._ Is it--(I dare not ask it all at first; Doubt is some ease to those who fear the worst:) Say, 'tis not--

_Eve._ 'Tis not what thou needst to fear: What danger does in this fair fruit appear? We have been cozened; and had still been so, Had I not ventured boldly first to know. Yet, not I first; I almost blush to say, The serpent eating taught me first the way. The serpent tasted, and the godlike fruit Gave the dumb voice; gave reason to the brute.

_Adam._ O fairest of all creatures, last and best Of what heaven made, how art them dispossest Of all thy native glories! fallen! decayed! (Pity so rare a frame so frail was made) Now cause of thy own ruin; and with thine, (Ah, who can live without thee!) cause of mine.

_Eve._ Reserve thy pity till I want it more: I know myself much happier than before; More wise, more perfect, all I wish to be, Were I but sure, alas! of pleasing thee.

_Adam._ You've shown, how much you my content design: Yet, ah! would heaven's displeasure pass like mine! Must I without you, then, in wild woods dwell? Think, and but think, of what I loved so well? Condemned to live with subjects ever mute; A savage prince, unpleased, though absolute?

_Eve._ Please then yourself with me, and freely taste, Lest I, without you, should to godhead haste: Lest, differing in degree, you claim too late Unequal love, when 'tis denied by fate.

_Adam._ Cheat not yourself with dreams of deity; Too well, but yet too late, your crime I see: Nor think the fruit your knowledge does improve; But you have beauty still, and I have love. Not cozened, I with choice my life resign: Imprudence was your fault, but love was mine. [_Takes the fruit and eats it._

_Eve._ O wondrous power of matchless love exprest! [_Embracing him._ Why was this trial thine, of loving best? I envy thee that lot; and could it be, Would venture something more than death for thee. Not that I fear, that death the event can prove; Ware both immortal, while so well we love.

_Adam._ Whate'er shall be the event, the lot is cast; Where appetites are given, what sin to taste? Or if a sin, 'tis but by precept such; The offence so small, the punishment's too much. To seek so soon his new-made world's decay: Nor we, nor that, were fashioned for a day.

_Eve._ Give to the winds thy fear of death, or ill; And think us made but for each other's will.

_Adam._ I will, at least, defer that anxious thought, And death, by fear, shall not be nigher brought: If he will come, let us to joys make haste; Then let him seize us when our pleasure's past. We'll take up all before; and death shall find We have drained life, and left a void behind. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ LUCIFER.

_Lucif._ 'Tis done: Sick Nature, at that instant, trembled round; And mother Earth sighed, as she felt the wound. Of how short durance was this new-made state! How far more mighty than heaven's love, hell's hate! His project ruined, and his king of clay: He formed an empire for his foe to sway. Heaven let him rule, which by his arms he got; I'm pleased to have obtained the second lot. This earth is mine; whose lord I made my thrall: Annexing to my crown his conquered ball. Loosed from the lakes my regions I will lead, And o'er the darkened air black banners spread: Contagious damps, from hence, shall mount above, And force him to his inmost heaven's remove. [_A clap of thunder is heard._ He hears already, and I boast too soon; I dread that engine which secured his throne. I'll dive below his wrath, into the deep, And waste that empire, which I cannot keep. [_Sinks down._

RAPHAEL _and_ GABRIEL _descend._

_Raph._ As much of grief as happiness admits In heaven, on each celestial forehead sits: Kindness for man, and pity for his fate, May mix with bliss, and yet not violate. Their heavenly harps a lower strain began; And, in soft music, mourned the fall of man.

_Gab._ I saw the angelic guards from earth ascend, (Grieved they must now no longer man attend:) The beams about their temples dimly shone; One would have thought the crime had been their own. The etherial people flocked for news in haste, Whom they, with down-cast looks, and scarce saluting past: While each did, in his pensive breast, prepare A sad account of their successless care.

_Raph._ The Eternal yet, in majesty severe, And strictest justice, did mild pity bear: Their deaths deferred; and banishment, (their doom,) In penitence foreseen, leaves mercy room.

_Gab._ That message is thy charge: Mine leads me hence; Placed at the garden's gate, for its defence, Lest man, returning, the blest place pollute, And 'scape from death, by life's immortal fruit. [_Another clap of thunder. Exeunt severally._

_Enter_ ADAM _and_ EVE, _affrighted._

_Adam._ In what dark cavern shall I hide my head? Where seek retreat, now innocence is fled? Safe in that guard, I durst even hell defy; Without it, tremble now, when heaven is nigh.

_Eve._ What shall we do? or where direct our flight? Eastward, as far as I could cast my sight, From opening heavens, I saw descending light. Its glittering through the trees I still behold; The cedar tops seem all to burn with gold.

_Adam._ Some shape divine, whose beams I cannot bear! Would I were hid, where light could not appear. Deep into some thick covert would I run, Impenetrable to the stars or sun, And fenced from day, by night's eternal skreen; Unknown to heaven, and to myself unseen.

_Eve._ In vain: What hope to shun his piercing sight, Who from dark chaos struck the sparks of light?

_Adam._ These should have been your thoughts, when, parting hence, You trusted to your guideless innocence. See now the effects of your own wilful mind: Guilt walks before us; death pursues behind. So fatal 'twas to seek temptations out: Most confidence has still most cause to doubt.

_Eve._ Such might have been thy hap, alone assailed; And so, together, might we both have failed. Cursed vassalage of all my future kind! First idolized, till love's hot fire be o'er, Then slaves to those who courted us before.

_Adam._ I counselled you to stay; your pride refused: By your own lawless will you stand accused.

_Eve._ Have you that privilege of only wise, And would you yield to her you so despise? You should have shown the authority you boast, And, sovereign-like, my headlong will have crost: Counsel was not enough to sway my heart; An absolute restraint had been your part.

_Adam._ Even such returns do they deserve to find, When force is lawful, who are fondly kind. Unlike my love; for when thy guilt I knew, I shared the curse which did that crime pursue. Hard fate of love! which rigour did forbear, And now 'tis taxed, because 'twas not severe.

_Eve._ You have yourself your kindness overpaid; He ceases to oblige, who can upbraid.

_Adam._ On women's virtue, who too much rely, To boundless will give boundless liberty. Restraint you will not brook; but think it hard Your prudence is not trusted as your guard: And, to yourselves so left, if ill ensues, You first our weak indulgence will accuse. Curst be that hour, When, sated with my single happiness, I chose a partner, to controul my bliss! Who wants that reason which her will should sway, And knows but just enough to disobey.

_Eve._ Better with brutes my humble lot had gone; Of reason void, accountable for none: The unhappiest of creation is a wife, Made lowest, in the highest rank of life: Her fellow's slave; to know, and not to chuse: Curst with that reason she must never use.