The Second Week, First Day, Part II: The Imposture

THE ARGUMENT.

Iustice and Mercy modul'd in their kinde:
Satans proud Hate, and Enuie to Mankinde:
His many Engins, and malitious Wiles,
Whereby the best he many-times beguiles.
Why he assum'd a Body, and began
With Eue; by Her to vndermine her Man:
Their dreadfull Fall: Their drousie Conscience:
Gods righteous Sentence, for their foul Offence,
On them (and Theirs): Their Exile: Eden barr'd
With flaming Sword, and Scraphin for guard.

O Who shall lend me light and nimble wings,
That (passing Swallows, and the swiftest things)
Euen in a moment, boldly-daring, I
From Heav'n to Hell, from Hell to Heav'n may fly?
O! who shall showe the countenance and gestures
Of Mercy and Iustice? which fair sacred sisters,
With equall poiz, doe euer ballance ev'n
Th' vnchanging Proiects of the King of Heav'n?
Th' one stern of look, the other milde-aspecting:
Th' one pleas'd with tears, the other bloud affecting:
Th' one bears the Sword of vengeance vnrelenting,
Th' other brings Pardon for the true-repenting:
Th' one, from Earths-Eden, Adam did dismiss,
Th' other hath rais'd him to a higher Bliss.
Who shall direct my pen to paint the Story
Of wretched mans forbidden-Bit-lost glory?
What Spell shall charm th' attentiue Readers sense?
What Fount shall fill my voice with eloquence?
So that I, rapt, may rauish all this ILE
With graue-sweet warbles of my sacred stile;
Though Adams Doom, in euery Sermon common,
And founded on the error of a woman,
Weary the vulgar, and be iudg'd a iest
Of the profane, zeal-scoffing Atheïst.

Ah! Thou my God, euen Thou (my soule refining
In holy Faith's pure furnace, cleerely shining)
Shalt make my hap farr to surmount my hope,
Instruct my spirit, and giue my tongue smooth scope:
Thou, bountious in my bold attempts shalt grace-me,
And in the rank of holiest Poets place-me;
And frankly grant, that (soaring neer the sky)
Among our Authors, Eagle-like I fly:
Or, at the least (if Heav'n such hap denay)
I may point others, Honors beautious Way.

WHILE Adam bathes in these felicities,
Hell's Prince, sly parent of revolt and lies,
Feels a pestiferous busie-swarming nest
Of neuer-dying Dragons in his brest,
Sucking his bloud, tyring vpon his lungs,
Pinching his entrails with ten thousand tongues,
His cursed soule still most extreamly racking,
Too frank in giuing torments, and in taking:
But aboue all, Hate, Pride, and Enuious spight,
His hellish life doo torture day and night:
For th' Hate he bears to God, who hath him driv'n.
Iustly for euer, from the glittering Heav'n,
To dwell in darknes of a sulph'ry clow'd
(Though still his brethrens seruice be allow'd:)
The Proud desire to haue in his subiection
Mankinde in chain'd in gyues of Sins infection,
And th' Enuious heart-break to see yet to shine
In Adams face Gods Image all diuine,
Which he had lost; and that Man might atchieue
The glorious bliss, his Pride he did depriue:
Growen barbarous Tyrants of his treacherous wil,
Spur-on his course, his rage redoubling stil.

Or rather (as the prudent Hebrue notes)
'Tis that old Python which through hundred-throats
Doth proudly hiss, and (past his wont) doth fire
A hell of Furies in his fell desire:
His enuious hart, self-swoln with sullen spight,
Brooks neither greater, like, nor lesser wight:
Dreads th' one, as Lord; as equall, hates another;
And (iealous) doubts the rising of the other.

To vent his poyson, this notorious Tempter
(Meer spirit) assails not Eue, but doth attempt her
In fained form: for else, the soule diuine
Which rul'd (as Queen) the Littl•-worlds designe,
So purely kept her Vow of Chastitie,
That he in vain should tempt her Constancy.
Therefore he fleshly doth the Flesh assay
(Suborning that) her Mistress to betray;
A subtle Pandar with more tycing sleights
Then Sea hath Fish, or Heav'n hath twinkling lights.

For, had he beene, of an ethereall matter,
Of fiery substance, or aiereall nature;
The needfull help of language had he wanted,
Whereby Faiths ground-work was to be supplanted:
Sith such pure bodies haue nor teeth, nor tongues,
Lips, artires, nose, Palate, nor panting lungs,
Which rightly plaç't are properly created
True instruments of sounds articulated.

And further-more, though from his birth h'had had
Hart-charming cunning smoothly to perswade,
He fear'd (malitious) if he care-less, came
Vn-masked, like himself, in his own name,
In deep distrust man entring, suddainly,
Would stop his ears, and his foul presence fly:
As (opposite) taking the shining face
Of sacred Angels full of glorious grace,
He then suspected least the Omnipotent
Should think man's Fall scarce worthy punishment.

Much like (therefore) som theef that doth conceiue
From trauailers both life and goods to reaue,
And in the twi-light (while the Moon doth play
In Thetis Palace) neer the Kings high-way
Himself doth ambush in a bushy Thorn;
Then in a Caue, then in a field of Corn,
Creeps to and fro, and fisk eth in and out,
And yet the safety of each place doth doubt;
Till, resolute at last (vpon his knee
Taking his leuell) from a hollow Tree,
He swiftly sends his fire-wingd messenger,
At his false sute t'arrest the passenger:
Our freedoms felon, fountain of our sorrow,
Thinks, now the beautie of a Horse to borrow;
Anon to creep into a Haifers side;
Then in a Cock, or in a Dog to hide;
Then in a nimble Hart himself to shroud;
Then in the starr'd plumes of a Peacock proud;
And least he miss a mischief to effect,
Oft changeth minde, and varies oft aspect.
At last, remembring that of all the broods,
In Mountains, Plains, Airs, Waters, Wildes, and Woods,
The knotty Serpent's spotty generation
Are filled with infectious inflammation:
And though they want Dogs teeth, Bores tusks, Bears paws,
The Vultures bill, Buls horns, and Griphins claws;
Yea, seem so weak, as if they had not might
To hurt vs once, much less to kill vs quite:
Yet, many times they treacherously betray vs,
And with their breath, look, tongue, or train they slay vs:
He crafty cloaks him in a Dragons skin
All bright-bespect; that, speaking so within
That hollow Sagbuts supple-wreathing plies.
The mouer might with th' Organ sympathize.
For, yet the faith-less Serpent (as they say)
With horror crawl'd not groueling on the clay,
Nor to Mankinde (as yet) was held for hatefull,
Sith that's the hire of his offence ingratefull.

But now, to censure how this change befell
Our wits com short, our words suffice not well
To vtter it: much less our feeble Art
Can imitate this sly malitious part.

Somtimes me seems (troubling Eues spirit) the Fiend
Made her this speaking fancy apprehend.
For, as in liquid clouds (exhaled thickly)
Water and Ayr (as moist) doe mingle quickly;
The euill Angels slide too easily,
As subtile Spirits, into our fantasie.

Somtimes me seems She saw (wo-worth the hap)
No very Serpent, but a Sepents shape:
Whether that, Satan plaid the Iuggler there,
Who tender eys with charmed Tapers blear,
Trans-forming so by subtile vapoury gleams,
Mens heads to Monsters, into Eels the beams:
Or whether, Diuels hauing bodies light,
Quick, nimble, actiue, apt to change with sleight,
In shapes or shewes, they guilefull haue propos'd;
In brief, like th' Air whereof they are compos'd.
For, as the ayr, with scattered clouds be-spred
Is heer and there, black, yellow, white, and red,
Resembling. Armies, Monsters, Mountains, Dragons,
Rocks, fiery Castles, Forrests, Ships, and Wagons,
And such to vs through glass transparent cleer
From form to form varying it doth appear:
So, these seducers can growe great, or small,
Or round, or square, or streight, or short, or tall,
As fits the passions they are moued by,
And such our soule receiues them from our ey.

Somtimes; that Satan (only for this work)
Fain'd him a Serpents shape, wherein to lurk.
For, Nature framing our soules enemies,
Of bodies light, and in experience wise,
In malice crafty; curious they assemble
Small Elements, which (as of kin) resemble,
Whereof a Mass is made, and there. vnto
They soon giue growth and liuely motion too.
Not, that they be Creators: for, th' Almighty
Who first of nothing made vast Amphitri••,
The World's dull Centre, Heavn's ay-turning frame.
And whirling Ayr, sole merits that high name:
Who (onely Beeing) Being giues to all,
And of all things the seeds substantiall
Within their first-borne bodies hath inclos'd,
To be in time by Nature's hand dispos'd:
Not those, who (taught by curious Art or Nature)
Haue giv'n to things Heav'n-pointed form and stature,
Hastned their growth, or wakened learnedly
The forms that formless in the Lump didly.

But (to conclude) I think't was no conceipt,
No fained Idoll, nor no iuggling sleight,
Nor body borrowed for this vses sake,
But the self Serpent which the Lord did make
In the beginning: for, his hatefull breed
Bears yet the pain of this pernicious deed.

Yet, 'tis a doubt, whether the Diuell did
Gouern the Dragon (not there selfly hid)
To raise his courage, and his tongue direct,
Locally absent, present by effect.
As when the sweet strings of a Lute we strike,
Another Lute laid neer it, sounds the like,
Nay, the same note, through secret simpathy
(Vntoucht) receiuing life and Harmony:
Or, as a sta•, which (though far distant) pours,
Vpon our heads, hap-less or happy showrs.

Or, whether for a time he did abide,
Within the doubling Serpents damask hide,
Holding a place-less place: as our soule deor.
Through the dimlanthorn of our flesh. shines cleer;
And bound-less bounds itself in so streight space,
As fo•m in body, not as body in place.

But this stands sure, how euer else it went,
Th' old Serpent serv'd as Satans instrument
To charm in Eden with a strong illusion
Our silly Grandam to her selfs confusion.
For, as an old, rude, rotten, tune-les Kit,
If famous Dowland daign to finger it,
Makes sweeter Musik then the choicest Lute
In the gross handling of a clownish Brute:
So, whiles a learned Fiend with skilfull hand
Doth the dull motions of his mouth command,
This self-dum Creatures glozing Rhetorike
With bashfull shame great Orators would strike.
So, Faiery Trunks within Epyrus Groue
Mov'd by the spirit that was inspir'd by Ioue,
With fluent voice (to euery one that seeks)
Fore-tell the Fates of light-beleeuing Greeks:
So all incenst, the pale Engastromith
(Rul'd by the furious spirit hee's haunted with)
Speakes in his womb; So well a workmans skill
Supplies the want of any organ ill:
So doth the Phantike (lifting vp his thought
On Satans wing) tell with a tongue distraught
Strange Oracles, and his sick spirit doth plead
Euen of those Arts that he did neuer read.

O ruth-less murderer of immortall soules!
Alas! to pull vs from the happy Poles,
And plunge vs headlong in thy yawning hell,
Thy ceas-less frauds, and fetches who can tell?

Thou play'st the Lion, when thou doost in gage
Bloud-thirsty Nero's barbarous heart with rage,
While flesht in murthers (butcher-like) he paints
The Saint-poor world with the deer bloud of Saints.

Thou play'st the Dog, when by the mouth profane
Of som false Prophet thou doost beleh thy bane,
While from the Pulpit harkingly he rings
Bold blasphemies against the king of kings.

Thou play'st the Swine, when plung'd in pleasures vile,
Som Epicure doth sober mindes defile,
Transforming lewdly, by his loose impiety,
Strict Lacedaemon to a soft society.

Thou play'st the Nightingale, or else the Swan,
When any famous Rhetorician,
With captious wit and curious language, draws
Seduced hearers; and subuerts the laws.

Thou plaist the Fox, when thou dost fain a-right
The face and phrase of som deep Hypocrite,
True painted Toomb, dead-seeming coals, but quick;
A Scorpion fell, whose hidden tail doth prick.

Yet, this were little, if thy spight audacious,
Spar'd (at the least) the face of Angels gracious,
And if thou didst not (Ape-like) imitate
Th' Almighties works, the wariest Wits to mate.

But (without numbring all thy suttle baits,
And nimble iuggling with a thousand sleights)
Timely returning where I first digrest,
I'le onely heer thy first DECEIPT digest.

The Dragon then, Mans Fortress to surprise,
Follows som Captains martiall policies,
Who, yer too neer an Aduerse place he pitch,
The situation marks, and sounds the ditch,
With his eys leuell the steep wall he metes,
Surueies the flanks, his Camp in order sets;
And then approaching, batters sore the side
Which Art and Nature haue least fortifi'd:
So this old Souldier, hauing marked rife
The first-born payrs yet danger-dreadless life;
Mounting his Canons suttly he assaults
The part he findes in euident defaults:
Namely, poor Woman, wauering, weake, vnwise,
Light, credulous, news-louer giuen to lies.

Eue, Second honour of this Vniuerse!
Is't true (I pray) that iealous God, peruerse,
Forbids (quoth he) both you and all your race,
All the fair Fruits these siluer Brooks imbrace;
So oft bequeath'd you, and by you possest,
And day and night by your own labour drest?

With th' ayr of these sweet words, the wily Snake
A poysoned ayr inspired (as it spake)
In Eues frail brest; who thus replies: O! knowe
What e•r thou be (but thy kinde care doth showe
A gentle friend) that all the fruits and flowrs
In this earths-heav'n are in our hands and powrs,
Except alone that goodly fruit diuine,
Which in the midst of this green ground doth shine;
But, all-good. God (alas! I wote not why)
For bad vs touch that Tree, on pain to dy.
She ceast: already brooding in her heart
A curious wish, that will her weal subuert.

As a false Louer that thick snares hath laid,
T'intrap the honour of a fair young Maid,
When she (though little) listning ear affoords
To his sweet, courting, deep-affected words,
Feels som asswaging of his freezing ••ame,
And sooths himself with hope to gain his game;
And rapt with ioy, vpon this point persists,
That parleing Citie neuer long resists:
Euen so the Serpent, that doth counterfet
A guilefull Call ••allure vs to his net;
Perceiuing Eue his flattering gloze digest,
He prosecutes, and locund, doth not rest,
Till he haue try'd, foot, hand, and head, and all,
Vpon the Breach of this new-battered wall.

No, fair (quoth he) beleeue not, that the care
God hath, mankinde from spoyling death to spare,
Makes him forbid you (on so strict condition)
This purest, fairest, rarest Fruits fruition:
A doubtfull fear. an en•le, and a hate,
His iealous heart for euer cruciate;
Sith the suspected vertue of This Tree
Shall soon disperse the cloud of Idiocy,
Which dims your eys; and. further, make you seem
(Excelling vs) euen equall Gods to him.
O Worlds rare gloryl reach thy happy hand,
Reach, reach (I say) why doost thou stop or stand?
Begin thy Bliss, and doo not fear the threat
Of an vncertain God-head, onely great,
Through self-aw'd zeal: put on the glistring Pall
Of immortality: doe not fore-stall
(As enuious stepdame) thy posteritie
The souerain honour of Diuinitie.

This parley ended, our ambitious Grandam,
Who only yet did heart and ey abandon
Against the Lord; now farther doth proceed,
And hand and mouth makes guilty of the deed.

A nouice Theef; that in a Closet spies
A heap of Gold, that on the Table lies;
Pale, fearfull, shiuering, twice or thrice extends,
And twice or thrice retires his fingers ends,
And yet again returns; the booty takes,
And faintly-bold, vp in his cloak it makes,
Scarce findes the doore, with faultring foot hee flies,
And still looks back for fear of Hu-on cries:
Euen so doth Eue shew by like fear-full fashions
The doubtfull combat of contending Passions;
She would, she would not; glad, sad; coms, and goes:
And long she marts about a Match of Woes:
But (out alas•) at last she toucheth it,
And (hauing toucht) tastes the forbidden bit.

Then as a man that from a lofty Clift,
Or steepy Mountain, doth descend too swift,
Stumbling at somwhat, quickly clips som lim
Of som deer kinsman walking next to him,
And by his headlong fall, so brings his friend
To an vntimely, sad, and suddain end;
Our Mother, falling, hales her Spouse anon
Down to the gulf of pitchie Acheron.
For, to the wisht Fruits beautifull aspect,
Sweet Nectar-taste, and wonderfull effect,
Cunningly adding her quaint smiling glances,
Her witty speech, and pretty countenances,
She so preuails, that her blind Lord at last,
A morsell of the sharp-sweet fruit doth taste.

Now suddainly wide-open feel they might
(Siel'd for their good) both soules and bodies sight;
But the sad Soule hath lost the Character,
And sacred Image that did honour Her:
The wretched Body, full of shame and sorrow
To see it naked, is inforçt to borrow
The Trees broad leaues, wher of they aprons frame,
From Heav'ns faire ey to hide their filthy shame.

Alas, fond death-lings! O! behold how cleer
The knowledge is that you haue bought so deer:
In heav'nly things yee are more blinde then Moals,
In earthly Owls. O! think ye (silly soules)
The sight that swiftly through the earth's solid centres
(As globes of pure transparent crystall) enters
Cannot transpearce your leaves? or do ye ween,
Couering your shame so to conceal your sin?
Or that, a part thus clouded, all doth lie
Safe from the search of Heav'ns all-seeing ey?

Thus yet, mans troubled dull Intelligence
Had of his fault but a confused sense:
As in a dream, after much drink it chances,
Disturbed spirits are vext with rauing fancies.

Therefore the Lord, within the Garden fair,
Mouing betimes I wot not I what ayr,
But super naturall; whose breath diuine
Brings of his presence a most certain signe:
Awakes their Lethargie, and to the quick,
Their self-doom'd soules doth sharply press and prick:
Now more and more making their pride to fear
The frowning visage of their Iudge seuere:
To seck new-refuge in more secret harbors
Among the dark shade of those tusting arbors.

Adam, quoth God (with thundring maiesty)
Where art thou (wretch!) what doost thou? answer me
Thy God and Father, from whose hand, thy health
Thou hold'st, thine honour, and all sorts of wealth.

At this sad summon's, wofull man resembles
A bearded rush that in a riuer trembles:
His rosie checks are chang'd to earthen hew;
His dying body drops an yeie deaw;
His tear-drown'd eys, a night of clouds bedims;
About his eares, a buzzing horror swims;
His fainted knees, with feeblenes are humble;
His faultring feet doe slide away and stumble:
He hath not (now) his free, bold, stately port;
But down-cast looks, in fearfull slauish sort;
Now, nought of Adam, doth in Adam rest;
He feel's his senses pain'd, his soule opprest:
A confus'd hoast of violent passions iarr;
His flesh and spirit are in continuall warre:
And now no more (through conscience of his error)
He hears or feesth' Almighty, but with terror:
And loth he answers (as with tongue distraught)
Confessing (thus) his fear, but not his fault.

O Lord! thy voice, thy dreadfull voice hath made
Me fearfull hide me in this couert shade.
For, naked as I am (O most of might!)
I dare not come before thine awfull sight.

Naked (quoth God)? why (faith-less renegate,
Apostate Pagan!) who hath told thee that?
Whence springs thy shame? what makes thee thus to run
From shade to shade, my presence still to shun?
Hast thou not tasted of the learned Tree,
Whereof (on pain of death) I warned thee?

O righteous God (quoth Adam) I am free
From this offence: the wife thou gauest me,
For my companion and my comforter,
She made me eat that deadly meat with her.

And thou (quoth God) O! thou frail treacherous Bride,
Why, with thy self, hast thousedu•'t thy Guide?

Lord (answers Eue) the Serpent did intice
My simple frailty to this sinfull vice.

Mark heer, how He, who fears not who reform
His high Decrees, not subiect vnto form,
Or stile of Court: who, all-wise, hath no need
T' examine proof or witnes of the deed:
Who, for sustaining of vnequall Scale,
Dreads not the Doom of a Mercuriall;
Yer Sentence pass, doth publikely conuent,
Confront, and hear with ear indifferent
Th' Offenders sad: then with iust indignation,
Pronounceth thus their dreadfull Condemnation.

Ah cursed Serpent, which my fingers made
To serue mankinde: th' hast made thy self a blade
Wherewith vain Man and his inueigled wife
(Self-parricids) haue reft their proper life.
For this thy fault (true Fountain of all ill)
Thou shalt be hatefull'mong all creatures still.
Groueling in dust, of dust thou ay shalt feed:
I'le kindle war between the Womans seed,
And thy fell race; hers on the head shall ding
Thine: thine again hers in the heel shall sting.

Rebel to me, vnto thy kindred curst.
False to thy husband, to thy self the worst:
Hope not, thy fruit so easly to bring-forth
As now thou slay'st it: hence forth, euery Birth
Shall torture thee with thousand sorts of pain;
Each artire, sinew, muscle, ioynt and vain,
Shall feel his part: besides foul vomitings,
Prodigious longings, thought-full languishings,
With change of colour, swouns, and many others,
Eternall fellows of all future mothers:
Vnder his yoak, thy husband thee shall haue,
Tyrant, by thee made the Arch-tyrants slaue.

And thou disloyall, which hast harkned more
To a wanton fondling then my sacred lore:
Hence forth the sweat shall bubble on thy brow:
Thy hands shall blister, and thy back shall bow:
Ne'r shalt thousend into thy branchievains
A bit, but bought with price of thousand pains.
For, the earth feeling (euen in her) th' effect
Of the doom thundred 'gainst thy foul defect;
In stead of sweet fruits which she selfly yeelds
Seed-less, and Art-less ouer all thy fields,
With thorns and burrs shall bristle vp her brest:
(In short) thou shalt not taste the sweets of rest,
Till ruth-less Death by his extreamest pain
Thy dust-born body turn to dust again.

Heer I conceiue, that flesh and bloud will brangle,
And murmuring Reason with th' almighty wrangle,
Who did our parents with Free-will indue,
Though he fore-saw, that that would be the clew
Should lead their steps into the wofull way
Where life is death ten thousand times a day:
Now all, that he fore-sees, befalls: and further,
Hee all euents by his free powr doth order.
Man taxeth God of too-vniust severity,
For plaguing Adams sin in his posterity:
So that th' old yeers renewed generations
Cannot asswage his venging indignations,
Which haue no other ground to prosecute,
But the mis eating of a certain fruit.

O dusty wormling! dar'st thou striue and stand
With Heav'ns high Monarch? wilt thou (wretch) demand
Count of his deeds? Ah! shall the Potter make
His clay, such fashion, as him list, to take?
And shal not God (Worlds Founder, Natures Father)
Dispose of man (his own meer creature) rather?
The supream King, who (Iudge of greatest Kings)
By number, weight and measure, acts all things,
Vice-loathing Lord, pure Iustice, patron strong,
Law's life, Right's rule, will he doo any wrong?

Man, holdest thou of God thy frank Free-will,
But free t'obay his sacred goodnes still?
Freely to follow him, and doe his hest,
Net Philtre-charm'd, nor by Busiris prest?
God arms thee with discourse: but thou (O wretch)
By the keen edge the wound-soule sword doost catch;
Killing thy self, and in thy loyns thy line.
O banefull Spider (weaving wofull twine)
All Heav'ns pure flowrs thou turnest into poyson:
Thy sense reaues sense: thy reason robs thy reason.
For, thou complainest of Gods grace, whose Still
Extracts from dross of thine audacious ill,
Three vnexpected goods: prayse for his Name;
Bliss for thy self; for Satan endless-shame:
Sith, but for sin, Iustice and Mercy were
But idle names: and but that thou didst erre,
CHRIST had not com to conquer and to quell,
Vpon the Cross, Sin, Satan, Death, and Hell:
Making thee blessed more since thine offence,
Then in thy primer happy innocence.

Thē, might'st thou dy; now, death thou doost not doubt:
Now, in the Heav'n; then, didst thou ride without:
In earth, thou liv'dst then; now in Heav'n thou beest:
Then, thou didst hear Gods word; it, now thou seest:
Then, pleasant fruits; now, Christ is thy repast:
Then might'st thou fall; but now thou standest fast.

Now, Adams fault was not in deed so light,
As seems to Reason's sin-bleard Owlie sight:
But't was a chain where all the greatest sinns
Were one in other linked fast, as Twinns:
Ingratitude, pride, treason, gluttony,
Too-curious skill-thrist, enuy, felony,
Too-light, too-late beleef; were the sweet baits
That made him wander from Heav'ns holy straights.

What wouldst thou (Father) say vnto a Son
Of perfect age, to whom for portion
(Witting and willing, while thy self yet livest)
All thy possessions in the earth thou givest:
And yet th' vngratefull, grace-lesse, insolent,
In thine own Land, rebellion doth invent?
Map now an Adam in thy memory;
By Gods own hand made with great maiesty,
Not poor, nor pined; but at whose command
The rich aboundance of the world doth stand:
Not slaue to sense, but having freely might
To bridle it, and range it still aright:
No idiot fool, nor drunk with vain opinion;
But Gods Disciple and his deerest Minion:
Who rashly growes for little, nay for nought,
His deadly foe that all his good had wrought:
So mayst thou ghess, what whip what rope, what rack,
What fire, were fit to punish Adams lack.

Then, sith Mans sin by little and little runs
End-less, through every Age from Sires to Sons;
And still the farther this foul sin-spring flowes
It still more muddy and more filthy growes:
Thou ought'st not marvail, if (even yet) his seed
Feel the iust wages of this wicked deed.
For, though the keen sting of concupiscence
Cannot, yer birth, his fell effect commence;
The vnborn Babe, hid in the Mothers womb,
Is Sorrow's seruant, and Sin's servile groom,
As a frail Mote from the first Mass extract,
Which Adam baen'd by his rebellious fact.
Sound off-spring coms not of a Kinde infected:
Parts are not fair, if to tall be defected:
And a defiled stinking sink doth yeeld
More durt then water, to the neighbour field.

While nights black muffler hoodeth vp the skies,
The silly blind-man misseth not his eys:
But when the day summons to work again,
His night, eternall then he doth complain,
That hee goes groping, and his hand (alas!)
Is fain to guide his foot, and guard his face:
So man, that liveth in the wombs obscurity,
Knowes not; nor maketh knowen his lusts impurity:
Which for't is sown in a too-plentious ground,
Takes root already in the Caues profound
Of his infected Hart: with's birth, it peers,
And growes in strength, as he doth growe in years;
And waxt a Tree (though proyn'd with thousand cares)
An execrable deadly fruit it bears.

Thou seest, no wheat Helleborus can bring:
Nor barly, from the madding Morrell spring:
Nor, bleating Lambs braue Lyons doe not breed:
The leprous Parents, raise a leprous seed:
Even so our Grand-sire, living Innocent,
Had stockt the whole World with a Saint-descent:
But suffering sin in EDEN him inuade,
His sons, the sons of Sin and Wrath he made.
For, God did seem t'indow, with glory and grace,
Not the first Man so much, as all mans race:
And after reaue again those gifts diuine,
Not him so much, as in him all his line.

For, if an odious Traytour that conspires,
Against a Prince, or to his state aspires,
Feel not alone the laws extremity;
But his sons sons (although somtimes they be
Honest and vertuous) for their Fathers blame,
Are hap-less scarr'd with an eternall shame:
May not th' Eternall, with a righteous terror,
In Adams issue punish Adams error?
May he not thrall them vnder Deaths command:
And sear their brows with everlasting brand
Of infamy, who in his stock (accurst)
Haue graft worse slips then Adam set at first?

Mans seed then iustly, by succession,
Bears the hard penance of his high transgression:
And Adam heer, from Eden banished,
As first offender is first punished.

Hence (quoth the Lord) hence, hence (accursed race)
Out of my Garden: quick, auoyd the place,
This beautious place, pride of this Vniuerse,
A house vnworthy Masters so peruerse.

Those that (in quarrell of the Strong of Strongs,
And iust reuenge of Queen, and Countries wrongs)
Were witnesses to all the wofull plaints,
The sighes, and tears, and pitifull complaints,
Of brauing Spaniards (chiefly braue inword)
When by the valiant Heav'n-assisted sword
Of Mars-like ESSEX, Englands Marshall-Earl
(Then Albions Patron, and Eliza's Pearl)
They were expulst from Cad'z, their deerest pleasure,
Losing their Town, their honour, and their treasure:
Woe worth (said they) woe worth our Kings ambition;
Woe worth our Cleargy, and their Inquisition:
He seeks new Kingdoms, and doth lose his old;
They burn for conscience, but their thirst is gold:
Woe, and alas, woe to the vain brauados
Of Typhon-like-inuincible ARMADOS,
Which like the vaunting Monster-man of Gath,
Haue stirr'd against vs little Dauids wrath:
Wo-worth our sins: wo worth our selues, and all
Accursed causes of our suddain fall;
Those well may ghess the bitter agonies,
And luke-warm Rivers gushing down the eys
Of our first Parents, out of Eden driv'n
(Of Repeal hope-less) by the hand of Heav'n;
For, the Almighty set before the dore
Of th' holy Park, a Seraphin that bore
A waving sword, whose body shined bright,
Like flaming Comet in the midst of night;
A body meerly Metaphysioall,
Which (differing little from th' ONE vnicall,
Th' Act-simply-pure, the onely-beeing BEEING)
Approcheth matter; ne'rtheless, not being
Of matter mixt: or rather is so made
So meerly spirit, that not the murdering blade,
His ioyned quantity can part in two:
For (pure) it cannot Suffer ought, but Doo.