University of Virginia Library

The Infection of the Heart.

Epigr. 1.

Whilst thou enclin'st thy Voyce-enveigled eare,
The subtill Serpents Syren-Songs to heare,
Thy heart drinks deadly poyson drawn from hell,
And with a Vip'rous brood of sinne doth swell.

Ode. 1.

The Soule.
Profit, and pleasure, comfort, and content,
Wisedome, and honour, and when these are spent
A fresh supply of more! Oh heav'nly words!
Are these the dainty fruits, that this faire tree affords

The Serpent.
Yes these, and many more, if more may be,
All, that the world containes, in this one tree
Contracted is. Take but a tast, and try,
Thou maist beleeve thy self, experience can not lye.

The Soule.
But thou maist lye: and with a false pretence
Of friendship rob me of that excellence,
Which my Creators bounty hath bestow'd,
And freely given me, to whom he nothing ow'd.

The Serpent.
Strange composition! so credulous,
And at the same time so suspicious!
This is the tree of knowledge, and untill
Thou eat thereof, how canst thou know what's good or ill?

The Soule.
God infinitly good my maker is,
Who neither will, nor can, doe ought amisse.
The being I receiv'd was that he sent,
And therefore I am sure must needs be excellent:

The Serpent.
Suppose it be: yet doubtlesse he that gave
Thee such a being must himselfe needs have
A better farre, more excellent by much:
Or else be sure that he could not have made thee such.

The Soule.
Such as he made me I am well content
Still to continue: for, if he had meant
I should enjoy a better state, he would
As easily as not have giv'n it, if he would.

The Serpent.
And is it not all one, if he have given
Thee meanes to get it? must he still be driven
To new workes of creation for thy sake?
Wilt thou not what he sets before thee daine to take?

The Soule.
Yes, of the fruits of all the other trees
I freely take and eat: they are the fees
Allow'd me for the dressing by the Maker:
But of this fatall fruit I must not be partaker.

The Serpent.
And why? what danger can it be to eat
That which is good being ordain'd for meat?
What wilt thou say? God made it not for food?
Or dur'st thou think that made by him it is not good

The Soule.
Yes, good it is, no doubt, and good for meat:
But I am not allow'd thereof to eat.
My Makers prohibition under paine
Of death the day I eat thereof, makes me refraine.

The Serpent.
Faint-hearted fondling, canst thou feare to dye,
Being a Spirit and immortall? Fie.
God knowes this fruit once eaten will refine
Thy grosser parts alone, and make thee all divine.

The Soule.
There's something in it sure: were it not good,
It had not in the mid'st of th' garden stood:
And being good, I can no more refraine
From wishing, then then I can the fire to burne restraine

The Serpent.
So, thou art taken now: that resolution
Gives an eternall date to thy confusion.
The knowledge thou hast got of good, and ill,
Is of good gone, and past, of evill present still.