University of Virginia Library

Act. V.

Scene. 1.

Paradise.
Eve, with a bough in her hand.
Eve.
Methinks, I tread more lightly on the ground;
My nimble feet, from unhurt flow'rs rebound:
I walk in Ayr, and scorn this Earthly seat;
Heav'n is my palace; this my base retreat.
Take me not Heav'n, 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 pow'r to be a Soveraign now;
And, knowing more, to make his manhood bow.
Empire is sweet; but how if Heav'n has spy'd?
If I should dye, 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 dye 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 murmur'd, through the leaves, your long delay;
And fountains, or'e their pebles, chid your stay.
But with your presence cheer'd, 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'r try'd before,
And therefore strange; but yet the cause was more.

Adam.
My trembling heart forbodes some ill; I fear
To ask that cause which I desire to hear.
What means that lovely fruit? what means (alass!)
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 dye.

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 need'st to fear:
What danger does in this fair fruit appear?
We have been cozen'd; and had still been so,
Had I not ventur'd 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 god-like fruit
Gave the dumb voice; gave reason, to the Brute.

Adam.
O fairest of all creatures, last, and best,
Of what Heav'n made, how art thou dispossest
Of all thy native Glories! faln! Decay'd!
(Pity so rare a frame so frail was made)
Now cause of thy own ruine; and with thine,
(Ah, who can live without thee!) cause of mine.

Eve.
Reserve thy pity, till I want it more:
I know my self much happier than before;
More wise, more perfect, all I wish to be,
Were I but sure Alass! of pleasing thee,

Adam.
Y'have shown how much you my content design:
Yet ah! would Heav'n's displeasure pass like mine.
Must I without you, then, in wild woods dwell?
Think, and but think of what I lov'd so well
Condemn'd to live with subjects ever mute;
A salvage Prince, unpleas'd though absolute.

Eve.
Please then your self with me, and freely tast,
Lest I, without you, should to Godhead hast:
Lest diff'ring in degree, you claim too late
Unequal love, when 'tis deny'd by fate.

Adam.
Cheat not your self, 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 cozen'd, I; with choice, my life resign:
Imprudence was your sault, but love is mine,

[Takes the Fruit and eats it.
Eve
embracing him.
O wond'rous pow'r of matchless love exprest:
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 th'event can prove;
W'are both immortal, while so well we love.

Adam.
What e're shall be the event, the lot is cast:
Where appetites are giv'n, what sin to tast?
Or if a sin, 'tis but by precept such;
Th'offence so small, the punishment's too much,
To seek so soon his new made world's decay:
Nor we, nor that, were fashion'd for a day.

Eve.
Give to the winds thy fear of death, or ill;
And think us made but for each others 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 joyes make hast;
Then let him seize us when our pleasure's past,
We'll take up all before; and death shall find
We have drain'd life, and left a void behind.

[Exeunt.
Enter Lucifer.
Lucifer.
'Tis done,
Sick nature, at that instant, trembled round;
And Mother Earth, sigh'd, as she felt the wound,
Of how short durance was this new-made state!
How far more mighty than Heav'ns love, Hells hate!
His project ruin'd, and his King of clay:
He form'd, an Empire for his foe to sway.
Heav'n let him rule, which by his arms he got;
I'm pleas'd to have obtain'd the second lot.
This Earth is mine; whose Lord I made my thrall;
Annexing to my Crown, his conquer'd Ball
Loos'd from the lakes, my Legions I will lead,
And, o're the darkned Ayr, black Banners spread:
Contagious damps, from hence, shall mount above,
And force him to his inmost Heav'n's remove.
A Clap of thunder is heard.
He hears already, and I boast too soon;
I dread that Engine which secur'd his Throne.
I'll dive below his wrath, into the deep,
And waste that Empire, which I cannot keep.

[Sinkes down.
Raphael and Gabriel descend.
Raphael.
As much of grief as happiness admits
In Heav'n, on each Celestial forehead sits:
Kindness for man, and pity for his fate,
May mixt with bliss, and yet not violate.
Their Heav'nly harps a lower strain began;
And in soft Music, mourn'd the fall of man.

Gabriel.
I saw th'Angelic guards, from earth ascend,
(Griev'd they must now no longer man attend:)
The beams about their Temples dimly shone;
One would have thought the crime had been their own.
Th'Etherial people flock'd for news in hast,
Whom they, with down cast lookes, and scarce saluting past:
While each did, in his pensive brest, prepare
A sad accompt of their successess care.

Raphael.
Th'Eternal yet, in Majesty severe,
And strictest justice, did mild pity bear:
Their deaths deferr'd; and banishment, (their doom)
In penitence forseen, leaves mercy room.

Gabriel.
That message is thy charge: mine, leads me hence;
Plac'd 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 ev'n Hell defy;
Without it, tremble now, when Heav'n is nigh.

Eve.
What shall we do? or where direct our flight
Eastward as far as I could cast my sight,
From op'ning Heavens, I saw descending light.
Its glitt'ring 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 fenc'd from day, by night's eternal skreen;
Unknown to Heav'n, and to my self unseen.

Eve.
In vain: what hope to shun his piercing sight
Who, from dark Chaos, stroke the sparks of light?

Adam.
These should have been your thoughts when parting hence,
You trusted to your guideless innocence.
See now th'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 assail'd;
And so, together, might we both have fail'd.
Curs'd vassallage of all my future kind:
First Idolis'd, till loves hot fire be o're,
Then slaves to those who courted us before.

Adam.
I counsel'd you to stay; your pride refus'd:
By your own lawless will you stand accus'd.

Eve.
Have you that priviledge of only wise,
And would you yield to her you so despise?
You should have shown th'Authority you boast,
And, Soveraign-like, my headlong will have crost:
Counsel was not enough to sway my heart;
An absolute restraint had been your part.

Adam.
Ev'n 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 shar'd the curse which did that crime pursue.
Hard fate of love! which rigor did forbear,
And now 'tis tax'd, because 'twas not severe.

Eve.
You have, your self, your kindness overpay'd:
He ceases to oblige, who can upbraid.

Adam.
On womens 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 controle my bliss,
Who wants that reason which her will should sway,
And knowes but just enough to disobey.

Eve.
Better with Brutes my humble lot had gone;
Of reason void, accountable for none:
Th'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.

Adam.
Add, that she's proud, fantastick, apt to change;
Restless at home; and ever prone to range;
With shows delighted, and so vain is she,
She'll meet the Devil; rather than not see.
Our wise Creator, for his Quires divine,
Peopled his Heav'n with Souls all masculine.
Ah: why must man from woman take his birth?
Why was this sin of nature made on earth?
This fair defect; this helpless ayd call'd wife;
The bending crutch of a decrepit life.
Posterity no pairs, from you shall find,
But such, as by mistake of love are joyn'd:
The worthiest men, their wishes ne'r shall gain;
But see the slaves, they scorn, their loves obtain.
Blind appetite shall your wild fancies rule;
False to desert, and faithful to a fool.

[Turns in anger from her, and is going off.
Eve
kneeling.
Unkind! wilt thou forsake me, in distress,
For that which now is past me to redress?
I have misdone; and I endure the smart:
Loath to acknowledge; but more loath to part.
The blame be mine; you warn'd, and I refus'd:
What would you more? I have my self accus'd.
Was plighted faith so weakly seal'd above
That, for one error, I must lose your love?
Had you so err'd, I should have been more kind,
Than to add pain to an afflicted mind.

Adam.
Y'are grown much humbler; than you were before:
I pardon you; but see my face no more.

Eve.
Vain pardon, which includes a greater ill:
Be still displeas'd; but let me see you still.
Without your much-lov'd sight, I cannot live:
You more than kill me if you so forgive.
The Beasts, since we are faln, their Lords despise;
And, passing, look at me, with glaring eyes:
Must I then wander helpless, and alone?
You'll pity me, too late, when I am gone.

Adam.
Your penitence does my compassion move;
As you deserve it, I may give my love.

Eve,
On me, alone, let Heav'n's displeasure fall:
You merit none, and I deserve it all.

Adam.
You all Heav'n's wrath! how could you bear a part,
Who bore not mine, but with a bleeding heart?
I was too stubborn, thus to make you sue:
Forgive me; I am more in fault, than you.
Return to me, and to my love return;
And, both offending, for each other mourn.

Enter Raphael.
Raphael.
Of sin to warn thee, I before was sent;
For sin, I now pronounce thy punishment:
Yet that much lighter than thy crimes require;
Th'all-good does not his creatures death desire:
Justice must punish the rebellious deed:
Yet punish so, as pity shall exceed.

Adam.
I neither can dispute his will, nor dare:
Death will dismiss me from my future care,
And lay me softly in my native dust,
To pay the forfeit of ill-manag'd trust.

Eve.
Why seek you death? consider ere you speak:
The laws were hard; the pow'r to keep 'em, weak.
Did we solicite Heav'n to mould our clay?
From darkness, to produce us to the day?
Did we sollicite Heav'n to mould our clay,
From darkness, to produce us to the day?
Did we concur to life, or chuse to be,
Was it our will which form'd or was it he?
Since 'twas his choice, not ours, which plac'd us here;
The laws we did not chuse, why should we bear?

Adam.
Seek not, in vain, our maker to accuse:
Terms were propos'd; pow'r left us to refuse.
The good we have enjoy'd from Heav'n's free will;
And shall we murmur to endure the ill?
Should we a rebel-son's excuse receive,
Because he was begot without his leave?
Heav'n's right, in us, is more: first form'd to serve;
The good, we merit not; the ill, deserve.

Raphael.
Death is defer'd, and penitence has room
To mitigate, if not reverse the doom:
But, for your crime, th'Eternal does ordain
In Eden, you no longer shall remain.
Hence, to the lower world, you are exil'd:
This place, with crimes, shall be no more defil'd.

Eve.
Must we this blissful Paradise forego?

Raphael.
Your lot must be where Thorns and Thistles grow,
Unbid, as Balme and Spices did at first;
For man, the earth, of which he was is curst.
To Adam.
By thy own toil procur'd, thou food shalt eat;
And know no plenty, but from painful sweat.
She, by a curse, of future wives abhorr'd,
Shall pay obedience to her lawful Lord:
And he shall rule, and she in thraldome live;
Desiring more of love than man can give.

Adam.
Heav'n is all mercy; labor I would chuse;
And could sustain this Paradise to lose:
The bliss; but not the place: here could I say
Heav'n's winged messenger did pass the day;
Under this Pine the glorious Angel stay'd:
Then, show my wondring progeny the shade.
In woods and lawnes, where er'e thou dist appear,
Each place some Monument of thee should bear.
I, with green turfs, would grateful Altars raise,
And Heav'n, with Gums and offer'd Incense praise.

Raphael.
Where er'e thou art; he is; th'Eternal mind
Acts through all places; is to none confin'd:
Fills Ocean, Earth, and Ayr, and all above,
And through the Universal Mass does move.
Thou canst be no where distant: yet this place
Had been thy Kingly seat, and here thy race,
From all the ends of peopled-Earth, had come
To rev'rence thee, and see their native home.
Immortal, then; now sickness, care, and age,
And war, and luxury's more direful rage,
Thy crimes have brought, to shorten mortal breath,
With all the num'rous family of Death.

Eve.
My spirits faint, while I these ills foreknow:
And find my self the sad occasion too.
But what is death?

Raphael.
In vision, thou shalt see his griefly face,
The King of Terrors, raging in thy race.
That, while in future fate thou shar'st thy part,
A kind remorse, for sin, may seize thy heart.

The Scene shifts, and discovers deaths of several sorts. A battle at land, and a Naval fight.
Adam.
O wretched off-spring! O unhappy state
Of all mankind, by me betray'd to fate!
Born, through my crime, to be offenders first;
And, for those sins they could not shun, accurst.

Eve.
Why is life forc'd on man; who might he choose,
Would not accept, what he, with pain, must lose?
Unknowing, he receives it, and, when known,
He thinks it his, and values it, 'tis gone.

Raphael.
Behold of ev'ry age; ripe manhood see,
Decrepit years, and helpless infancy:
Those who, by lingring sickness, lose their breath;
And those who, by despair, suborn their death:
See yon' mad fools who, for some trivial Right,
For love, or for mistaken honour fight:
See those, more mad, who throw their lives away
In needless wars; the Stakes which Monarchs lay,
When for each others Provinces they play.
Then as if earth too narrow were for fate,
On open Seas their quarrels they debate;
In hollow wood they floating Armies bear;
And force imprison'd winds to bring 'em near.

Eve.
Who would the miseries of man foreknow?
Not knowing; we but share our part of woe:
Now, we the fate of future Ages bear;
And, ere their birth, behold our dead appear.

Adam.
The deaths, thou show'st, are forc'd and full of strife;
Cast headlong from the precipice of life.
Is there no smooth descent? no painless way
Of kindly mixing with our native clay?

Raphael.
There is; but rarely shall that path be trod
Which, without horror, leads to deaths abode.
Some few, by temp'rance taught, approaching slow,
To distant fate, by easy journeys, go:
Gently they lay 'em down, as ev'ning sheep
On their own woolly fleeces, softly sleep.

Adam.
So noiseless would I live, such death to find,
Like timely fruit, not shaken by the wind,
But ripely dropping from the sapless bough
And, dying, nothing to myself would owe.

Eve.
Thus, daily changing, with a duller tast
Of less'ning joyes, I, by degrees, would wast:
Still quitting ground, by unpercevi'd, decay,
And steal my self from life, and melt away.

Raphael.
Death you have seen: now see your race revive,
How happy they in deathless pleasures live.
Far more than I can show, or you can see,
Shall crown the blest with immortality.

Here a Heaven descends, full of Angels and blessed Spirits, with soft Music, a Song and Chorus.
Adam.
O goodness infinite! whose Heav'nly will
Can so much good produce, from so much ill!
Happy their state!
Pure, and unchang'd, and needing no defence,
From sins, as did my frailer Innocence.
Their joy sincere, and with no sorrow mixt:
Eternity stands permanent, and fixt,
And wheels no longer on the Poles of time:
Secure from fate, and more secure from crime.

Eve.
Ravish'd, with Joy, I can but half repent
The sin which Heav'n makes happy in th'event,

Raphael.
Thus arm'd, meet firmly your approaching ill:
For, see, the guards, from yon' far eastern hill,
Already move, nor longer stay afford;
High, in the Ayr, they wave the flaming sword,
Your signal to depart: Now, down amain
They drive, and glide, like meteors through the plain.

Adam.
Then farewell all; I will indulgent be
To my own ease, and not look back to see.
When what we love we ne'r must meet again,
To lose the thought, is to remove the pain.

Eve.
Farewell, you happy shades!
Where Angels first should practice Hymns, and string.
Their tuneful Harps, when they to Heav'n wou'd sing.
Farewell, you flow'rs, whose buds, with early care,
I watch'd, and to the chearful sun did rear:
Who now shall bind your stems? or, when you fall,
With fountain streams, your fainting souls recall?
A long farewell to thee, my nuptial bow'r,
Adorn'd with ev'ry fair and flagrant flow'r.
And last, farewell, farewell my place of birth;
I go to wander in the lower earth,
As distant as I can; for, disposest,
Farthest from what I once enjoy'd, is best.

Raphael.
The rising winds urge the tempestuous Ayr;
And on their wings, deformed Winter bear:
The beasts already feel the change; and hence,
They fly, to deeper coverts, for defence:
The feebler herd, before the stronger run;
For now the war of nature is begun:
But, part you hence in peace, and having mourn'd your sin,
For outward Eden lost, find Paradise within.

Exeunt.