SCENE I.--_Paradise.

ADAM _and_ EVE.

_Adam._ Strange was your dream, and full of sad portent; Avert it, heaven, if it from heaven were sent! Let on thy foes the dire presages fall; To us be good and easy, when we call.

_Eve._ Behold from far a breaking cloud appears, Which in it many winged warriors bears: Their glory shoots upon my aching sense; Thou, stronger, mayest endure the flood of light, And while in shades I chear my fainting sight, Encounter the descending Excellence. [_Exit._

_The Cloud descends with six Angels in it, and when it is near the ground, breaks, and on each side discovers six more: They descend out of the Cloud._ RAPHAEL _and_ GABRIEL _discourse with_ ADAM, _the rest stand at a distance._

_Raph._ First of mankind, that we from heaven are sent, Is from heaven's care thy ruin to prevent. The Apostate Angel has by night been here, And whispered through thy sleeping consort's ear Delusive dreams. Thus warned by us, beware, And guide her frailty by thy timely care.

_Gab._ These, as thy guards from outward harms, are sent; Ills from within thy reason must prevent.

_Adam._ Natives of heaven, who in compassion deign To want that place where joys immortal reign, In care of me; what praises can I pay, Descended in obedience; taught to obey?

_Raph._ Praise Him alone, who god-like formed thee free, With will unbounded as a deity; Who gave thee reason, as thy aid, to chuse Apparent good, and evil to refuse. Obedience is that good; this heaven exacts, And heaven, all-just, from man requires not acts, Which man wants power to do: Power then is given Of doing good, but not compelled by heaven.

_Gab._ Made good, that thou dost to thy Maker owe; But to thyself, if thou continuest so.

_Adam._ Freedom of will of all good things is best; But can it be by finite man possest? I know not how heaven can communicate What equals man to his Creator's state.

_Raph._ Heaven cannot give his boundless power away, But boundless liberty of choice he may; So orbs from the first Mover motion take, Yet each their proper revolutions make.

_Adam._ Grant heaven could once have given us liberty; Are we not bounded now, by firm decree, Since whatsoe'er is pre-ordained must be? Else heaven for man events might pre-ordain, And man's free will might make those orders vain.

_Gab._ The Eternal, when he did the world create, All other agents did necessitate: So what he ordered, they by nature do; Thus light things mount, and heavy downward go. Man only boasts an arbitrary state.

_Adam._ Yet causes their effects necessitate In willing agents: Where is freedom then? Or who can break the chain which limits men To act what is unchangeably forecast, Since the first cause gives motion to the last?

_Raph._ Heaven, by fore-knowing what will surely be, Does only, first, effects in causes see, And finds, but does not make, necessity. Creation is of power and will the effect, Foreknowledge only of his intellect. His prescience makes not, but supposes things; Infers necessity to be, not brings. Thus thou art not constrained to good or ill; Causes, which work the effect, force not the will.

_Adam._ The force unseen, and distant, I confess; But the long chain makes not the bondage less. Even man himself may to himself seem free; And think that choice, which is necessity.

_Gab._ And who but man should judge of man's free state?

_Adam._ I find that I can chuse to love or hate, Obey or disobey, do good or ill; Yet such a choice is but consent, not will. I can but chuse what he at first designed, For he, before that choice, my will confined.

_Gab._ Such impious fancies, where they entrance gain, Make heaven, all-pure, thy crimes to pre-ordain.

_Adam._ Far, far from me be banished such a thought, I argue only to be better taught. Can there be freedom, when what now seems free Was founded on some first necessity? For whate'er cause can move the will t'elect, Must be sufficient to produce the effect; And what's sufficient must effectual be: Then how is man, thus forced by causes, free?

_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._