_Adam._ I find that I can chuse to love or hate, Obey or disobey, do good or ill; Yet such a choice is but consent, not will. I can but chuse what he at first designed, For he, before that choice, my will confined. _Gab._ Such impious fancies, where they entrance gain, Make heaven, all-pure, thy crimes to pre-ordain. _Adam._ Far, far from me be banished such a thought, I argue only to be better taught. Can there be freedom, when what now seems free Was founded on some first necessity? For whate'er cause can move the will t'elect, Must be sufficient to produce the effect; And what's sufficient must effectual be: Then how is man, thus forced by causes, free? _Raph._ Sufficient causes only work the effect, When necessary agents they respect. Such is not man; who, though the cause suffice, Yet often he his free assent denies. _Adam._ What causes not, is not sufficient still. _Gab._ Sufficient in itself; not in thy will. _Raph._ When we see causes joined to effects at last, The chain but shews necessity that's past. That what's done is: (ridiculous proof of fate!) Tell me which part it does necessitate? I'll cruise the other; there I'll link the effect. O chain, which fools, to catch themselves, project! _Adam._ Though no constraint from heaven, or causes, be, Heaven may prevent that ill he does foresee; And, not preventing, though he does not cause, He seems to will that men should break his laws. _Gab._ Heaven may permit, but not to ill consent; For, hindering ill, he would all choice prevent. 'Twere to unmake, to take away the will. _Adam._ Better constrained to good, than free to ill. _Raph._ But what reward or punishment could be, If man to neither good nor ill were free? The eternal justice could decree no pain To him whose sins itself did first ordain; And good, compelled, could no reward exact: His power would shine in goodness, not thy act. Our task is done: Obey; and, in that choice, Thou shalt be blest, and angels shall rejoice. [RAPHAEL _and_ GABRIEL _fly up in the Cloud: the other Angels go off._ _Adam._ Hard state of life! since heaven foreknows my will, Why am I not tied up from doing ill? Why am I trusted with myself at large, When he's more able to sustain the charge? Since angels fell, whose strength was more than mine, 'Twould show more grace my frailty to confine. Fore-knowing the success, to leave me free, Excuses him, and yet supports not me. _To him_ EVE. _Eve._ Behold, my heart's dear lord, how high the sun Is mounted, yet our labour not begun. The ground, unhid, gives more than we can ask; But work is pleasure when we chuse our task. Nature, not bounteous now, but lavish grows; Our paths with flowers she prodigally strows; With pain we lift up our entangled feet, While cross our walks the shooting branches meet.