Eve. He eats, and lives, in knowledge greater grown:  [Aside.
Was death invented then for us alone? 
Is intellectual food to man denied,
Which brutes have with so much advantage tried? 
Nor only tried themselves, but frankly, more,
To me have offered their unenvied store?

Lucif. Behold, and all your needless doubts remove;
View well this tree, (the queen of all the grove)
How vast her hole, how wide her arms are spread,
How high above the rest she shoots her head,
Placed in the midst:  would heaven his work disgrace,
By planting poison in the happiest place?

Haste; you lose time and godhead by delay. [Plucking the fruit.

Eve. ’Tis done; I’ll venture all, and disobey. [Looking about her.
Perhaps, far hid in heaven, he does not spy,
And none of all his hymning guards are nigh. 
To my dear lord the lovely fruit I’ll bear;
He, to partake my bliss, my crime shall share. [Exit hastily.

Lucif. She flew, and thanked me not, for haste:  ’Twas hard,
With no return such counsel to reward. 
My work is done, or much the greater part;
She’s now the tempter to ensnare his heart. 
He, whose firm faith no reason could remove,
Will melt before that soft seducer, love. [Exit.

ACT V.

SCENE I.—­Paradise.

  EVE, with a bough in her hand.

Eve. Methinks I tread more lightly on the ground;
My nimble feet from unhurt flowers rebound: 
I walk in air, and scorn this earthly seat;
Heaven is my palace; this my base retreat. 
Take me not, heaven, too soon; ’twill be unkind
To leave the partner of my bed behind. 
I love the wretch; but stay, shall I afford
Him part? already he’s too much my lord. 
’Tis in my power to be a sovereign now;
And, knowing more, to make his manhood bow. 
Empire is sweet; but how if heaven has spied? 
If I should die, and He above provide
Some other Eve, and place her in my stead? 
Shall she possess his love, when I am dead? 
No; he shall eat, and die with me, or live: 
Our equal crimes shall equal fortune give.

  Enter ADAM.

Adam. What joy, without your sight, has earth, in store! 
While you were absent, Eden was no more. 
Winds murmured through the leaves your long delay,
And fountains, o’er the pebbles, chid your stay: 
But with your presence cheered, they cease to mourn,
And walks wear fresher green at your return.

Eve. Henceforth you never shall have cause to chide;
No future absence shall our joys divide: 
’Twas a short death my love ne’er tried before,
And therefore strange; but yet the cause was more.

Adam. My trembling heart forebodes some ill; I fear
To ask that cause which I desire to hear. 
What means that lovely fruit? what means, alas! 
That blood, which flushes guilty in your face? 
Speak—­do not—­yet, at last, I must be told.