Adam. Why did he reason in my soul implant,
And speech, the effect of reason?  To the mute,
My speech is lost; my reason to the brute. 
Love and society more blessings bring
To them, the slaves, than power to me, their king.

Raphael. Thus far to try thee; but to heaven ’twas known,
It was not best for man to be alone;
An equal, yet thy subject, is designed,
For thy soft hours, and to unbend thy mind. 
Thy stronger soul shall her weak reason sway;
And thou, through love, her beauty shalt obey;
Thou shalt secure her helpless sex from harms,
And she thy cares shall sweeten with her charms.

Adam. What more can heaven bestow, or man require?

Raphael. Yes, he can give beyond thy own desire. 
A mansion is provided thee, more fair
Than this, and worthy heaven’s peculiar care: 
Not framed of common earth, nor fruits, nor flowers
Of vulgar growth, but like celestial bowers: 
The soil luxuriant, and the fruit divine,
Where golden apples on green branches shine,
And purple grapes dissolve into immortal wine;
For noon-day’s heat are closer arbours made,
And for fresh evening air the opener glade. 
Ascend; and, as we go,
More wonders thou shalt know.

Adam. And, as we go, let earth and heaven above
Sound our great Maker’s power, and greater love.
                     [They ascend to soft music, and a song is sung.

The Scene changes, and represents, above, a Sun gloriously rising and moving orbicularly:  at a distance, below, is the Moon; the part next the Sun enlightened, the other dark.  A black Cloud comes whirling from the adverse part of the Heavens, bearing LUCIFER in it; at his nearer approach the body of the Sun is darkened.

Lucif. Am I become so monstrous, so disfigured,
That nature cannot suffer my approach,
Or look me in the face, but stands aghast;
And that fair light which gilds this new-made orb,
Shorn of his beams, shrinks in? accurst ambition! 
And thou, black empire of the nether world,
How dearly have I bought you!  But, ’tis past;
I have already gone too far to stop,
And must push on my dire revenge, in ruin
Of this gay frame, and man, my upstart rival,
In scorn of me created.  Down, my pride,
And all my swelling thoughts!  I must forget
Awhile I am a devil, and put on
A smooth submissive face; else I in vain
Have past through night and chaos, to discover
Those envied skies again, which I have lost. 
But stay; far off I see a chariot driven,
Flaming with beams, and in it Uriel,
One of the seven, (I know his hated face)
Who stands in presence of the eternal throne,
And seems the regent of that glorious light.