Rather than solid virtue, all but a rib, Crooked by nature, bent, as now appears, More to the part sinister; from me drawn, Well if thrown out, as supernumerary To my just number found. O why did God, Creator wise, that peopled highest Heaven With spirits masculine, create at last This novelty on earth, this fair defect Of nature, and not fill the world at once With men, as angels, without feminine; Or find some other way to generate Mankind? this mischief had not then befallen; And more that shall befal, innumerable Disturbances on earth, through female snares, And strait conjunction with this sex; for either He never shall find out fit mate, but such
As some misfortune brings him, or mistake;
Or whom he wishes most, shall seldom gain, Through her perverseness, but shall see her gain'd By a far worse, or, if she love, withheld By parents; or his happiest choice too late Shall meet, already link'd and wedlock-bound To a fell adversary, his hate or shame; Which infinite calamity shall cause
To human life, and household peace confound."
He added not, & from her turn'd. But Eve, Not so repulsed, with tears that ceased not flowing And tresses all disordered, at his feet Fell humble, and embracing them, besought His peace, and thus proceeded in her plaint.
"Forsake me not thus, Adam; witness Heaven, What love sincere, and reverence, in my heart I bear thee; and unweeting have offended, Unhappily deceived; thy suppliant I beg, and clasp thy knees; bereave me not, Whereon I live, thy gentle looks, thy aid, Thy counsel; in this uttermost distress, My only strength and stay: forlorn of thee, Whither shall I betake me, where subsist? While yet we live, scarce one short hour perhaps, Between us two, let there be peace; both joining, As join'd in injuries, one enmity
Against a foe, by doom express assign'd us, That cruel Serpent. On me exercise not Thy hatred, for this misery befallen; On me, already lost, me, than thyself More miserable; both have sinn'd; but thou
Against God only, I against God and thee; And to the place of judgment will return, There with my cries, importune Heaven, that all The sentence, from thy head removed, may light On me, sole cause to thee of all this woe, Me, me only, just object of his ire."
She ended weeping; and her lowly plight, Immoveable till peace obtain'd from fault Acknowledged & deplored, in Adam wrought Commiseration; soon his heart relented Towards her, his life so late and sole delight, Now at his feet submissive, in distress, Creature so fair, his reconcilement seeking, His counsel, whom she had displeased, his aid; As one disarm'd, his anger all he lost, And thus, with peaceful words, upraised her soon. "Unwary, and too desirous, as before, So now, of what thou know'st not, thou desirest The punishment all on thyself; alas, Bear thine own first, ill able to sustain His full wrath, whose thou feel'st as yet least part, And my displeasure bear'st so ill. If prayers Could alter high decrees, I to that place Would speed before thee, & be louder heard, That on my head all might be visited, Thy frailty and infirmer sex forgiven, To me committed, and by me exposed. But rise, let us no more contend, nor blame Each other, blamed enough elsewhere; but strive, In offices of love, how we may lighten Each other's burden, in our share of woe; Since this day's death denounced, if aught I see, Will prove no sudden, but a slow-paced evil, A long day's dying to augment our pain, And to our seed, O hapless seed! deriv'd."
To whom thus Eve, recovering heart, replied. "Adam, by såd experiment, I know How little weight my words with thee can find, Found so erroneous, thence, by just event, Found so unfortunate; nevertheless, Restored by thee, vile as I am, to place Of new acceptance, hopeful to regain Thy love, the sole contentment of my heart, Living or dying, from thee I will not hide What thoughts in my unquiet breast are risen, Tending to some relief of our extremes, Or end, though sharp and sad, yet tolerable,
As in our evils, and of easier choice. If care of our descent perplex us most, Which must be born to certain woe, devour'd By death at last; and miserable it is To be to others cause of misery Our own begotten, and of our loins to bring Into this cursed world a woful race, That after wretched life, must be, at last, Food for so foul a monster; in thy power It lies, yet ere conception, to prevent The race unblest, to being yet unbegot. Childless thou art, childless remain: so death Shall be deceived his glut, and with us two Be forced to satisfy his ravenous maw. But if thou judge it hard and difficult, Conversing, looking, loving, to abstain From love's due rites, nuptial embraces sweet, And with desire to languish, without hope, Before the present object, languishing With like desire, which would be misery
And torment, less than none of what we dread⚫
Then, both ourselves and seed at once to free From what we fear for both, let us make short, Let us seek death, or, he not found, supply, With our own hands, his office on ourselves. Why stand we longer shivering under fears,
That show no end but death, & have the power Of many ways to die, the shortest choosing, Destruction with destruction to destroy?"
She ended here, or vehement despair Broke off the rest; so much of death her thoughts Had entertain'd, as dy'd her cheeks with pale. But Adam, with such counsel nothing sway'd To better hopes his more attentive_mind, Labouring, had raised; and thus to Eve replied. "Eve, thy contempt of life, & pleasure, seems To argue in thee something more sublime, And excellent, than what thy mind contemns; But self-destruction, therefore sought, refutes That excellence, thought in thee, and implies, Not thy contempt, but anguish and regret, For loss of life and pleasure, overloved. Or if thou covet death, as utmost end Of misery, so thinking to evade The penalty pronounced, doubt not but God Hath wiselier arm'd his vengeful ire, than so To be forestall'd; much more I fear lest death,
So snatch'd, will not exempt us from the pain We are by doom to pay; rather, such acts Of contumacy will provoke the Highest To make death in us live. Then let us seek Some safer resolution; which, methinks, I have in view, calling to mind with heed Part of our sentence, that thy seed shall bruise The Serpent's head; piteous amends, unless Be meant, whom I conjecture, our grand foe, Satan, who, in the Serpent, hath contrived Against us this deceit: to crush his head Would be revenge indeed; which will be lost, By death brought on ourselves, or childless days, Resolved as thou proposest: so our foe Shall 'scape his punishment ordain'd, and we, Instead, shall double ours upon our heads. No more be mention'd then of violence Against ourselves, and wilful barrenness, That cuts us off from hope, and savours only Rancour and pride, impatience, and despite, Reluctance against God, and his just yoke Laid on our necks. Remember, with what mild And gracious temper he both heard and judged, Without wrath or reviling: we expected Immediate dissolution, which we thought Was meant by death that day; when, lo, to thee Pains only in child-bearing were foretold, And bringing forth, soon recompensed with joy Fruit of thy womb: on me, the curse aslope Glanced on the ground; with labour I must earn My bread: what harm? Idleness had been worse; My labour will sustain me: and, lest cold Or heat should injure us, his timely care Hath unbesought, provided; and his hands Clothed us unworthy, pitying while he judged. How much more, if we pray him, will his ear Be open, and his heart to pity incline, And teach us farther, by what means to shun The inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow? Which now the sky, with various face, begins To show us in this mountain, while the winds Blow moist & keen, shattering the graceful locks Of these fair spreading trees; which bids us seek Some better shroud, some better warmth to cherish Our limbs benumb'd, ere this diurnal star Leave cold the night; how we, his gather'd beams, Reflected, may with matter sere foment,
Or by collision of two bodies, grind
The air attrite to fire; as late the clouds
Justling, or push'd with winds rude, in their shock
Tine the slant lightning, whose thwart flame, driven down
Kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine,
And sends a comfortable heat from far, Which might supply the sun : such fire to use, And what may else be remedy or cure To evils, which our own misdeeds have wrought, He will instruct us, praying, and of grace Beseeching him; so as we need not fear To pass commodiously this life, sustained By him with many comforts, till we end In dust, our final rest, and native home. What better can we do, than to the place Repairing where he judged us, prostrate fall Before him reverent? and there confess Humbly our faults, and pardon beg, with tears Watering the ground, and with our sighs the air Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign Of sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek. Undoubtedly he will relent and turn From his displeasure; in whose look serene, When angry most he seem'd, and most severe, What else but favour, grace, and mercy shone?"
So spake our father penitent, nor Eve Felt less remorse. They forthwith, to the place Repairing where he judged them, prostrate fell Before him, reverent, and both confess'd Humbly their faults, & pardon begg'd, with tears Watering the ground, & with their sighs the air Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign Of sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek,
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