presented, 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,