Book III, 81: On the Story of Man?

The word was spoke; And what was Nothing, must
Be made a Chaos of confused Dust:
The word was spoke: The Dust began to thicken
To a firme Clay: The Clay began to quicken:
The grosser substance of that Clay thought good
To turne to Flesh: The moyster turn'd to Blood:
Received Organs: and those Organs, Sense;
It was imbellisht with the Excellence
Of Reason: It became the Height of Nature,
Being stampt with th'Image of the great Creator:
But, Lord, that glorious Image is defac'd:
Her Beautye's blasted, and her Tablet's raz'd:
This Height of nature has committed Treason
Against it selfe: Declin'd both Sense and Reason;
Meere Flesh and Blood, containing but a Day
Of painted Pleasure, and but breathing Clay:
Whose Moysture, dry'd with his owne sorrow, must
Resolve, and leave him to his former Dust;
Which Dust, the utter object of our loathing,
Small time consumes, & brings to his first Nothing:
Thus, from this Nothing, from this Dust, began
Thus Something, turnd to Dust, to Nothing; Man.