_Lucifer_. Thy human mind hath scarcely grasp to gather The little I have shown thee into calm And clear thought: and _thou_ wouldst go on aspiring To the great double Mysteries! the _two Principles_![121] And gaze upon them on their secret thrones! Dust! limit thy ambition; for to see Either of these would be for thee to perish! _Cain_. And let me perish, so I see them! _Lucifer_. There The son of her who snatched the apple spake! But thou wouldst only perish, and not see them; 410 That sight is for the other state. _Cain_. Of Death? _Lucifer_. That is the prelude. _Cain_. Then I dread it less, Now that I know it leads to something definite. _Lucifer_. And now I will convey thee to thy world, Where thou shall multiply the race of Adam, Eat, drink, toil, tremble, laugh, weep, sleep--and die! _Cain_. And to what end have I beheld these things Which thou hast shown me? _Lucifer_. Didst thou not require Knowledge? And have I not, in what I showed, Taught thee to know thyself? _Cain_. Alas! I seem 420 Nothing.[122] _Lucifer_. And this should be the human sum Of knowledge, to know mortal nature's nothingness; Bequeath that science to thy children, and 'Twill spare them many tortures. _Cain_. Haughty spirit! Thou speak'st it proudly; but thyself, though proud, Hast a superior. _Lucifer_. No! By heaven, which he Holds, and the abyss, and the immensity Of worlds and life, which I hold with him--No! I have a Victor--true; but no superior.[123] Homage he has from all--but none from me: 430 I battle it against him, as I battled In highest Heaven--through all Eternity, And the unfathomable gulfs of Hades, And the interminable realms of space, And the infinity of endless ages, All, all, will I dispute! And world by world, And star by star, and universe by universe, Shall tremble in the balance, till the great Conflict shall cease, if ever it shall cease, Which it ne'er shall, till he or I be quenched! 440 And what can quench our immortality, Or mutual and irrevocable hate? He as a conqueror will call the conquered _Evil_; but what will be the _Good_ he gives? Were I the victor, _his_ works would be deemed The only evil ones. And you, ye new And scarce-born mortals, what have been his gifts To you already, in your little world? _Cain_. But few; and some of those but bitter.