University of Virginia Library

Act II.

Scene 1.

A Champaign Country.
Adam, as newly created, laid on a Bed of Moss and Flowers, by a Rock.
[Rising.]
Adam.
What am I? or from whence? For that I am
I know, because I think; but whence I came,
Or how this Frame of mine began to be,
What other Being can disclose to me?
I move, I see; I speak, discourse, and know,
Though now I am, I was not always so.
Then that from which I was, must be before:
Whom, as my Spring of Being, I adore.
How full of Ornament is all I view
In all its parts! and seems as beautiful as new:
O goodly order'd Work! O Pow'r Divine,
Of thee I am; and what I am is thine!

Raphael descends to Adam in a Cloud.
Raphael.
First of Mankind, made o'er the World to Reign,
Whose Fruitful Loins an Unborn Kind contein,
Well hast thou reason'd; of himself is none
But that Eternal Infinite, and One,
VVho never did begin, who ne'er can end;
On Him all Beings, as their Source, depend.
We first, who of his Image most partake,
Whom He all Spirit, Immortal, Pure, did make.
Man next; whose Race exalted, must supply
The place of those who, falling, lost the Sky.

Adam.
Bright Minister of Heav'n, sent here below
To me, who but begin to think and know,
If such could fall from bliss, who knew and saw
By near admission, their Creator's Law,
What hopes have I, from Heav'n remote so far,
To keep those Laws, unknowing when I err?

Raphael.
Right Reason's Law to every humane heart
Th'Eternal, as his Image, will impart:
This teaches to adore Heaven's Majesty:
In pray'r and praise, does all devotion lye:
So doing, thou and all thy race are blest.

Adam.
Of every creeping thing, of Bird, and Beast,
I see the kinds: in pairs distinct they go;
The Males their loves, their lovers Females know.
Thou nam'dst a race which must proceed from me,
Yet my whole Species in my self I see:
A barren sex, and single, of no use;
But full of forms which I can ne'r produce.

Raphael.
Think not the pow'r, who made thee thus, can find
No way like theirs to propagate thy kind.
Mean time, live happy, in thy self alone;
Like him who, single, fills th'Etherial Throne.
To study Nature will thy time employ:
Knowledge and Innocence, are perfect Joy.

Adam.
If solitude were best, th'allwise above
Had made no Creature for himself to love.
I add not to the pow'r he had before;
Yet to make me, extends his goodness more.
He would not be alone, who all things can;
But peopled Heav'n with Angels, Earth with Man.

Raphael.
As Man and Angels to the Deity,
So all inferiour creatures are to thee.
Heav'n's greatness no society can bear;
Servants he made, and those thou want'st not here.

Adam.
Why did he Reason in my Soul implant,
And speech, th'effect of reason; to the mute
My speech is lost; my reason, to the Brute.
Love, and society, more blessings bring
To them, the slaves, than pow'r to me their King.

Raphael.
Thus far, to try thee; but, to Heav'n, 'twas known
It was not best for man to be alone;
An equal, yet thy subject, is design'd.
For thy soft hours, and to unbend thy mind.
Thy stronger soul shall her weak reason sway;
And thou, through love, her beauty shalt obey:
Thou shalt secure her helpless sex from harms;
And she thy cares shall sweeten, with her charms.

Adam.
What more can Heav'n bestow, or man require?

Raphael.
Yes; he can give, beyond thy own desire.
A mansion is provided thee, more fair
Than this; and worthy Heav'n's peculiar care:
Not fram'd of common Earth, nor fruits, nor flowers,
Of vulgar growth; but like Celestial Bowers:
The soil luxuriant, and the fruit divine,
Where golden Apples, on green branches shine,
And purple grapes dissolve into immortal wine.
For noon day's heat, are closer Arbors made;
And for fresh ev'ning Ayr, the op'ner glade.
Ascend: and, as we go,
More wonders thou shalt know.

Adam.
And, as we go, let Earth and Heav'n above
Sound our great Maker's pow'r and greater love.

They ascend to soft Musick and a Song is sung.
The Scene changes; and represents above, a Sun, gloriously rising, and moving orbicularly: at a distance, below, is the Moon; the part next the Sun enlightened, the other dark. A black cloud comes whirling from the adverse part of the Heavens, bearing Lucifer in it; at his nearer approach, the body of the Sun is dark'ned.
Lucifer.
Am I become so monstrous? so disfigur'd,
That nature cannot suffer my approach,
Or look me in the face? but stands agast;
And that fair light which gilds this new made Orb,
Shorn of his beams, shrinks in, Accurst ambition!
And thou, black Empire of the neather World,
How dearly have I bought you! But, 'tis past:
I have already gone too far to stop,
And must push on my dire revenge, in ruin
Of this gay frame, and Man, my upstart rival;
In scorn of me created. Down, my pride,
And all my swelling thoughts; I must forget,
A while, I am a Devil; and put on
A smooth, submissive face; else I, in vain
Have past through Night and Chaos to discover
Those envy'd skies again, which I have lost.
But stay; far off; I see a Chariot driv'n,
Flaming with beams, and in it Uriel,
One of the seaven; (I know his hated face)
Who stands in presence of th'Eternal Throne.
And seems the Regent of that glorious light.

From that part of the Heavens, where the Sun appears, a Chariot is discovered, drawn with white horses; and in it Uriel the Regent of the Sun. The Chariot moves swiftly, towards Lucifer; and at Uriel's approach, the Sun recover's his light.
Uriel.
Spirit, who art thou? and from whence arriv'd?
(For I remember not thy face, in Heav'n)
Or by command, or hither led by choice?
Or wander'st thou within this lucid Orb,
And stray'd from those fair fields of light above,
Amidst this new creation want'st a guide,
To reconduct thy steps?

Lucifer.
—Bright Uriel,
Chief of the seaven, thou flaming Minister,
Who guard'st this new created Orb of light,
(The world's eye that, and thou the eye of it)
Thy favor, and high Office, make thee known:
An humble Cherub I, and of less note,
Yet, bold, by thy permission, hither come,
On high discoveries bent.

Uriel.
—Speak thy design.

Lucifer.
Urg'd by renown of what I heard above
Divulg'd by Angels nearest Heav'n's high King,
Concerning this new World, I came to view
(If worthy such a favor) and admire
This last effect of our great Maker's pow'r:
Thence, to my wond'ring fellows I shall turn,
Full fraught with joyful tidings of these works,
New matter of his Praise, and of our Songs.

Uriel.
Thy business is not what deserves my blame,
Nor thou, thy self, unwelcome; see, fair Spirit,
Below yon' Sphere, (of matter not unlike it,)
There hangs the ball of Earth and Water mixt,
Self-Center'd, and unmov'd.

Lucifer.
—But where dwells Man?

Uriel.
On yonder Mount; thou seest it fenc'd with Rocks,
And round th'ascent a Theatre of Trees,
A sylvane Scene, which rising by degrees,
Leads up the eye below, nor gluts the sight
With one full prospect, but invites by many,
To view at last the whole: there his abode,
Thither direct thy flight.

Lucifer.
—O blest be thou
Who, to my low converse, hast lent thy Ear,
And favour'd my request: hail, and farewel.

[Flies downward out of sight.
Uriel.
Not unobserv'd thou goest, who e'r thou art;
Whether some Spirit, on Holy purpose bent,
Or some fall'n Angel from below broke loose,
Who com'st with envious eyes, and curst intent,
To view this World, and its created Lord:
Here will I watch, and, white my Orb rouls on,
Pursue from hence, thy much suspected flight;
And, if disguis'd, pierce through with beams of light.

[The Chariot drives forward out of sight.
The Scene Paradise.
Trees cut out on each side, with several Fruits upon them: a Fountain in the midst: at the far end, the Prospect terminates in Walks.
Adam.
If this be dreaming, let me never wake;
But still the joyes of that sweet sleep partake.
Methought—but why do I my bliss delay
By thinking what I thought? Fair, Vision stay;
My better half, thou softer part of me,
To whom I yield my boasted Soveraignty,
I seek my self, and find not, wanting thee.

Exit.
Enter Eve.
Eve.
Tell me ye Hills and Dales, and thou fair Sun,
Who shin'st above, what am I? whence begun?
Like my self, I see nothing: from each Tree
The feather'd kind peep down, to look on me;
And Beasts, with up-cast eyes, forsake their shade,
And gaze, as if I were to be obey'd.
Sure I am somewhat which they wish to be,
And cannot: I my self am proud of me.
What's here? another Firmament below,
Looks into a Fountain.
Spread wide, and other trees that downward grow?
And now a Face peeps up, and now draws near,
With smiling looks, as pleas'd to see me here.
As I advance, so that advances too,
And seems to imitate what e're I do:
When I begin to speak, the lips it moves;
Streams drown the voice, or it would say it loves.
Yet when I would embrace, it will not stay:
Stoops down to embrace.
Lost e'r 'tis held; when nearest, far away.
Ah, fair, yet false; ah Being, form'd to cheat,
By seeming kindness, mixt with deep deceipt.

Enter Adam.
Adam.
O Virgin, Heav'n begot, and born of Man,
Thou fairest of thy great Creator's Works;
Thee, Goddess, thee th'Eternal did ordain
His softer Substitute on Earth to Reign:
And, wheresoe'r thy happy footsteps tread,
Nature, in triumph, after thee is led.
Angels, with pleasure, view thy matchless Grace,
And love their Maker's Image in thy Face.

Eve.
O, only like my self, (for nothing here
So graceful, so majestick does appear:)
Art thou the Form my longing eyes did see,
Loos'd from thy Fountain, and come out to me?
Yet, sure thou art not, nor thy Face, the same;
Nor thy Limbs moulded in so soft a frame:
Thou look'st more sternly, dost more strongly move;
And more of awe thou bear'st, and less of love.
Yet pleas'd I hear thee, and above the rest;
I, next my self, admire and love thee best.

Adam.
Made to command, thus freely I obey,
And at thy feet the whole Creation lay.
Pity that love thy beauty does beget:
What more I shall desire, I know not yet.
First let us lock'd in close embraces be;
Thence I, perhaps, may teach my self, and thee.

Eve.
Somewhat forbids me, which I cannot name;
For ignorant of guilt, I fear not shame:
But some restraining thought, I know not why,
Tells me, you long should beg, I long deny.

Adam,
In vain! my right to thee is seal'd above;
Look round and see where thou canst place thy Love:
All creatures else are much unworthy thee;
They match'd, and thou alone art left for me.
If not to love, we both were made in vain:
I my new Empire would resign again,
And change, with my dumb slaves, my nobler mind;
Who, void of reason, more of pleasure find.
Methinks, for me they beg, each, silently,
Demands thy Grace, and seems to watch thy Eye.

Eve.
I well fore-see, when e'r thy suit I grant,
That I my much-lov'd Soveraignty shall want:
Or like my self, some other may, be made;
And her new Beauty may thy heart invade.

Adam.
Could Heav'n some greater Master-piece devise,
Set out with all the glories of the Skies:
That beauty yet in vain he should decree,
Unless he made another heart for me.

Eve.
With how much ease I, whom I love, believe!
Giving my self, my want of worth I grieve.
Here, my inviolable Faith I plight,
So, thou be my defence, I, thy delight.

Exeunt he leading her.