Of many ways to die the shortest choosing,

Destruction with destruction to destroy?”

She ended here, or vehement despair

Broke off the rest: so much of death her thoughts

Had entertained, as dyed her cheeks with pale.

But Adam, with such counsel nothing swayed,

To better hopes his more attentive mind

Labouring had raised; and thus to Eve replied.

“Eve, thy contempt of life and pleasure seems

To argue in thee something more sublime

And excellent, than what thy mind contemns;

But self-destruction therefore sought, refutes

That excellence thought in thee; and implies,

Not thy contempt, but anguish and regret

For loss of life and pleasure overloved.

Or if thou covet death, as utmost end

Of misery, so thinking to evade

The penalty pronounced; doubt not but God

Hath wiselier armed his vengeful ire, than so

To be forestalled; much more I fear lest death,

So snatched, will not exempt us from the pain

We are by doom to pay; rather, such acts

Of contumacy will provoke the Highest

To make death in us live: Then let us seek

Some safer resolution, which methinks

I have in view, calling to mind with heed

Part of our sentence, that thy seed shall bruise

The Serpent’s head; piteous amends! unless

Be meant, whom I conjecture, our grand foe,

Satan; who, in the serpent, hath contrived

Against us this deceit: To crush his head

Would be revenge indeed! which will be lost

By death brought on ourselves, or childless days

Resolved, as thou proposest; so our foe

Shall ’scape his punishment ordained, and we

Instead shall double ours upon our heads.

No more be mentioned then of violence

Against ourselves; and wilful barrenness,

That cuts us off from hope; and savours only

Rancour and pride, impatience and despite,

Reluctance against God and his just yoke

Laid on our necks. Remember with what mild

And gracious temper he both heard, and judged,

Without wrath or reviling; we expected

Immediate dissolution, which we thought

Was meant by death that day; when lo! to thee

Pains only in child-bearing were foretold,

And bringing forth; soon recompensed with joy,

Fruit of thy womb: On me the curse aslope

Glanced on the ground; with labour I must earn

My bread; what harm? Idleness had been worse;

My labour will sustain me; and, lest cold

Or heat should injure us, his timely care

Hath, unbesought, provided; and his hands

Clothed us unworthy, pitying while he judged;

How much more, if we pray him, will his ear

Be open, and his heart to pity incline,

And teach us further by what means to shun

The inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow!

Which now the sky, with various face, begins

To show us in this mountain; while the winds

Blow moist and keen, shattering the graceful locks

Of these fair spreading trees; which bids us seek

Some better shroud, some better warmth to cherish

Our limbs benumbed, ere this diurnal star