By them the wretch to avarice was swai'd,
Externall objects tempting the desire;
By them the heart to envy was betrai'd,
And made to hate what it could not acquire;
Their sight urg'd vengeance whilst it did upbraid
Such brests as boil'd with a vindictive ire,
By them (as dores) much mischiefe entred in,
The baits, the bauds, the guides, the gates of sinne.

These eyes that did so oft to vice invite,
(Whil'st still attracting, or directing wrong)
Now barr'd from all which did them once delight,
Where fearefull monsters for confusion throng;
Them from some paine no moment can acquite,
For objects strange infortunately strong:
Prodigious sights since still they must indure,
Like owles (night's driry birds) in caves obscure.

In place of beauty (which did earst bewitch)
"The foaming fiends came charg'd with crawling
snakes;

For stately roomes a dungeon (dropping pitch)
Doth contribute to the Tartarian lakes;
And for companions (groaning in a ditch)
A number burns, and yet for cold still quakes.
Eyes thus have no reliefe, not when they weep,
But (though in darknesse) they still see, not sleep.

This living lab'rinth entertaining sounds,
By severall tornes, till made for hearing fit,
(Lest otherwise, if rude, words might give wounds)
Which (thus prepar'd) they by degrees admit;
These bring the stuffe on which the judgement
As ready porters that support the wit; [grounds,
And oft with pleasure smooth afflicting care,
Whil'st dainty voices quintessence the aire.

These oft (like strumpets dissolutely strong)
Are prostituted, suffring what is foule;
Then mediating 'twixt a tempting tongue
And fraile desires, all goodnesse oft controul:
They first corrupted do seduce to wrong,
And poure (like pleasure) poyson in the soule:
By them assaulting sinne doth breach the heart,
As of the body still the weakest part.

This is the myne which doth blow up the minde,
Gainst sense, or reason's charge, a guardlesse way,
To lust, to fraud, or faults of any kinde,
Which all the strength by treaties doth betray;
As Sathan soone in Paradise did finde,
In Evah's care who first in ambush lay;
This patent entry can hold nothing out,
But braves brave minds with grounds for

[doubt. feare or

This spirituall taster, understanding's eye, [moanes,
(Growne needlesse now amongst these hopelesse
Since all well known, none then can further try)
In place of musicke that did charme it once,
Heares teeth to gnash, and howling creatures cry,
Redoubling sobs, and melancholy groanes:
For dreadfull sounds who can imagine more?
There fiends and men (still rack'd) together roare.

That dainty sense which comfort doth the braines,
And all the vital sprits more pregnant make,
Which (when the aire a grosse corruption staines)
Doth by sweet odours drive the danger backe,
It with the Lord so highly pris'd remaines,
That he himselfe in it doth pleasure take:

And he was said a sacrifice to smell,
In which sweet incense chiefly did excelt.

Those (though extorting nature's usuall store)
That were perfum'd with artificiall things,
In place of what affected was before,
A filthy stench perpetually there stings;
This sinke of sinne which theirs so oft made more,
The dregs of all the world together brings:
Whose scent, though loathsome now, endure they
must,

Who (weakning courage thus) gave strength to lust.

Those to the taste who did their judgement give,
And (more then nature) fancy striv'd to feed,
What creatures daily dy'd that they might live,
Who would for pompe or gluttony exceed,
And curious were all courses to contrive,
How sawces strange an appetite might breed:
While as the poore did starve (they thus at feasts)
And could not get what they did give to beasts?

Though food for maint'nance none shall need below,
Yet gluttons' mindes by longing are turmoil'd;
And many meats may mustred be in show,
All fry'd in flames, or in Cocytus boil'd,
Which straight (when neare to touch) devils may
orethrow;

Or they may be by monstrous harpies spoil'd;
Or (as from Tantalus the apple slips)
Such tempting objects may delude their lips.

These drunkards that have drown'd their wits in wine,

(Till, quite benumn'd, they long ere dying dye)
Whil'st tortur'd now continually to pine,
As in a feaver (loe) they burning lye:
If roaring flames a puddle could designe,
They for a drop to quench their thirst would cry:
That this to mark it might our judgement leade,
The like entreaty one to Abraham made.

Where fearfull darknesse doth no light admit,
May unawares some fiend or serpent hit.

Some who below had domineer'd of late,
In wealth abounding, by abundance cloy'd,
Whil'st (pleasures purchas'd at too high a rate)
As want did others, surfeits them annoy'd;
They (wanting stomacke) did not feed but eate,
Till faint, and dull, what had, they not enjoy'd;
Those naked now in misery remaine,
And nothing rests, save never resting paine.
The lazie man whose memory time foils,
As wanting sinews, who could scarcely move,
Whom faintnesse, and not pride, did keep from toils,
Save abject ease who nothing else did love;
Now when his foot at every step still broils,
If but to change, of force must restlesse prove:
And lest he languish with too dull a paine,
By bodkins hot tormented may remaine.

Those on themselves who did so fondly dote,
And their vile carkasse curious were to grace,
Though (like the flowres which frailty do denote)
But must'ring beauty for a little space;
They never care how much the minde they blot,
So they of nature (during life's short race)
May help defects by art's defective aid,
The soule to sinne by vanity betrai'd.

They nature's need could not by sleep supply,
Save in faire roomes which pleasure did procure;
Each vulgar object straight did wound their eye,
Whose tender sight no grosse thing could endure;
They well attended softly sought to lye,
Though so more sumptuous, and the lesse secure :
Not thinking how when dead they straight should
have,

Wormes for companions, and for bed a grave.

Loe, now retir'd amid'st Tartarian caves,
With driry shadows in eternall night,
They lodge more low then some that were their slaves,
As sinking farre, since falling from a height;
And every fiend them (as their equall) braves,
With mocks remembring of their wonted might:
They, they through flames with scourging whips

them drive,

The which to flie in boiling deeps they dive.

Smooth beautio's groundswhich did so much delight,
From pleasant plains with furrows gathered in,
By fire, or filth, are now disfigur'd quite,
Till they become as ugly as their sinne;
And (persecuted with continuall spite)

Hot pitch and brimstone drop upon their skinne: But such a losse as this, paine quickly bounds, The feeling, not the fancy, them confounds.

The Heaven's great Judge, in all things who is just,
Each paine imposed severally designes;

The proud (trod down) lye wallowing in the dust;
The glutton starves; by thirst the drunkard pines;
The lecherous burne, but not as earst with lust;
The wretch in vaine to covet still inclines;
Who did God's day to violate contest,
No iubile or sabbath yeelds them rest.

O how each soule most highly doth abhorre
The fault which them to this confusion sends!
Which (though they would) they now can use no
Yet, onely one, even at this time not ends; [more,
Those who were given to blasphemy before,
They still curse God, their parents, and their friends;
This sinne which malice, and not weaknesse breeds,
In height, in place, and time, all else exceeds.

That vice in Hell the reprobate may use,
Which from the minde all kinde of goodnesse blots,
Each other fault some colour may excuse,
Whil'st baited fancy, on some pleasure dotes;
But blasphemy the furies do infuse,

In mindes perverse, which as a badge it notes,

Since it bewrayes the vilenesse of the heart.
They faine that one continually doth feele
His smarting entrails by a vulture torne;
A stone (still toss'd) another faint makes reele,
And braving food a famish'd mouth doth scorne;
Ambition's type is rack'd upon a wheele,

Still barr'd from rest, since backe or forward borne;
In vaine these sisters tosse the Stygian deep,
Who must bestow on that which cannot keep.
But yet these torments which the world did faine,
In sinners' minds a just remorse to breed,
From working mischiefe that they might refraine,
Whil'st they strive how for horrour to exceed :
As onely forg'd, is but a painted paine,

If match'd with these that must be felt indeed:
Which so extremely breed the soul's distresse,
That even the suffrer can it not expresse.

What height of words were able to dilate
The severall torments that are used below?
Each sense must suffer what it most doth hate,
The Stygian forge whil'st forming furies blow;
Short pleasures purchas'd at a hideous rate,
They still (yet not discharg'd) pay what they owe:
"All sorts of sinnes since none can well recount,
No doubt Hell's paines in number must surmount.
These mysteries, which darknesse doth enfold,
What mortall colours can expresse them right?
Or who can know what ground is fit to hold,
Where contraries do with confusion fright?
Some laid on flames not see, yet quake for cold;
Thus fire doth burne, but cannot cleare with light:
To comfort it no quality retaines,

But multiplies in all that may give paines.

A possibility how this may prove;
Though seeming strange, imagination frames

No busie breath then irritating flames, [move:
Doth make them waste the meanes by which they
Whil'st want of aire fire's lightning fury tames,
That it no way can vent it selfe above:
Though all the brightnesse be entomb'd in smoak,
It lacks but beauty, may both burne and choak.
Some member then perchance extremely smarts,
A captive compass'd with encroaching fire, [hearts,
(What here doth fright, may then confound all
Chiefe element for executing ire :)

And yet cold snakes (enfolding other parts)
May make the bloud all languishing retire:
What stormie clymate can afford this seat,
Where both they freeze for cold, and rage for heat.

The secret nature of this fire to finde,
Of some who curious were the thoughts did crosse ;
If it were spirituall, how to be confinde
In Hell for torture of terrestriall drosse:

Then if materiall, and to waste inclin'd,
Could soules be reach'd by such a substance grosse?
For all impressions working paine or feare,
Must have an object fit their blows to beare.
The fiends from fire (some thinke) must needs scape
free,

Whose subtle substance none can touch with hands,
Yet, they (as lords) distinguish'd in degree,
Can (tossing th' aire) disturbe both seas and lauds;
They bodies have the which may taken be,
And have a being capable of bands:

The sprits of th' aire may beare a burden light,
Whose course impulsive sometimes makes it known;
The aire enflam'd (when Phoebus takes the height)
Is apt to burne, and flames by it are blowne;
Or, since of late, so to delude the sight,
They borrow'd shapes (if wanting of their owne)
All may be forc'd of bodies to admit,
As loads, or jayls, for suffring onely fit.

As soules (whil'st here) have beene to bodies bound,
And when next joyn'd shall never part againe;
By fire's condensed flames in Hell's vast round,
Ill sprits at last imbodied may remaine,
Which both may strictly presse, and deeply wound,
A weight, a prison, so redoubling paine:
They if thus match'd, have but a passive part,
Who burn'd, not warm'd, do onely live to smart.

How farre doth this transcend the reach of wit,
That bodies then continually shall burne,
Yet not diminish, whil'st on flames they sit,
But though quite swallow'd, not to dust do turne;
That racks their course no moment intermit,
Yet can a wretch not dye, but lives to mourne?
Dea h still doth wound, but hath no power to kill,
They want his good, and onely have his ill.

I have beheld a cheating fellow stand,
To sell some oyle that he reserv'd in store,
And in the presence of a thronging band,
By vertue of some drug was us'd before,
In melted lead straight boldly rush his hand,
Then fall downe groveling, as to move no more:
Yet quickly rose by cosening art kept sound,
As if strange vertue in his oyle were found.

If man (weake man) by meanes of question'd art,
May fortifie against the force of heat,
That ye may suffer thus, and yet not smart;
May not the Lord (omnipotently great)
A quality (when as he list) impart,
To all the guests of Pluto's ugly seat:
That (freez'd in fire) they burne yet not decay,
Do pine, not dye, as monsters every way?

What us'd to waste, not having power to warme,
Of three that were amid'st a fornace plac'd,
No member, fire, no, not one haire did harme,
By raging flames, though every where embrac'd:
The Lord their force did so in secret charme,
That they (as set in gold) his servants grac'd;
And in such sort when pleas'd himselfe to serve,
By ruipe's engines he can thus preserve.

That force of fire did not effectuall prove,
Elias' body did with pompe display,

[move;
A winglesse weight whil'st it through th'aire did
Th' earth divers times her burden did betray,
By swallowing that which she did beare above;
And Peter's feet on flouds found solid way:
Each element we see when God directs,
To nature contrary can breed effects.
Fire's torturing power, in the Tartarian cave,
Doth need for help no irritating blast,
And wanting food no excrement can have;
For fed by nothing, it doth nothing waste;
An ominous torch in Pluto's gaping grave,
Not more, nor lesse, it still alike doth last;

The Lord each sense and member doth restore,
(Enabling so the lame, the deafe, the blinde)
To every one that wanted them before,
That they of painé the greatest height may finde:
At least to show their griefe each tortur'd soule
Must then have eyes to weepe, a tongue to howle.

That faculty inhabiting the braine,
Though once a comfort now becomes a crosse,
The onely meanes that can bring time againe,
Though serving but to cast accounts of losse ;
The nurse of knowledge, universall chaine,
Which in small bounds all kind of things can tosse;
It was a mirrour to direct the mind,

But then, damn'd soules to suffer more doth bind.
Those sinnes that once so pleasant did appeare,
The dandled idols of a doating heart,

Then all the ugly fiends that stand them neare,
More hatefull now doe make the wretches sinart,
Who curst themselves that could such guests hold
deare,

Though no remorse, what griefe doth this impart?
First looking backe, then on their present state,
When they must thinke what they had bin of late.
They finde those pleasures that did them betray,
As dreames and shadowes, readie to descend,
Even, in imbracing, vanishing away,

A fancie first, an extasie in end,
Whose vanity the issue did bewray,

Hopes left farre short of what they did attend;
And all enticements that to this alur'd,
A loathing still or wearinesse procur'd

They now remember every time and place,
That by their meanes a mischiefe was devis'd,
And how they needs would madly runne their race,
All admonitions scornefully despis'd;
They proudly quensh'd the sparkes of kindling grace,
And hated them that any good advis'd,
Then laugh'd at them as most ridiculous fooles,
That sought to learne when having left the schooles.
Of counsels past that any parent gave,
A schoole master, a preacher, or a friend;
Each circumstance now fresh in mind they have,
And how that then it highlie did offend, [save,
When meanes were us'd that they their soules might
Who did to ruine obstinately tend:
They loath'd instruction, and rebukes did hate,
As which (thus tax'd) their value did abate.
Some words that entered at a carelesse eare,
And in the minde could no impression make,
That they in judgment true record might beare,
Then in the soule a secret seate did take,
Which now (discovered) cruelly they teare,
When (out of time still) making it looke back:

"Neglected warnings must remembred be,

At last to binde, since first they could not free."

Whilst restlesse wormes doe gnaw the minde within, Externall torments racking other parts, Some fiend beside that had provok'd their sinne, (What treacherous guest to harbour in men's To aggravate their anguish doth beginne, [hearts!) And though with them in like estate be smarts; Yet wonted malice making silence breake, He thus upbrayding them may chance to speake. "What travells huge have I for you indur'd, By bending all my meanes of power and skill, That satisfaction might be so procur'd, For every wish of yours (though changing still) In pleasure's deepes ye lay by me secur'd, Who both directed and obey your will; And as ye earst would not abandon mee, In spite of paine I shall your partner bee.

"All what ye crav'd was compast by my care, Who onely labour'd to content your mind; There wanted not a creature that was fayre, When curious thoughts to wantonnesse inclin'd; While kindling wrath for vengeance did prepare, A fitt occasion was by me design'd:

To make you rich how many have beene spoil'd, That you might idle be whilst still I toil'd?

"And your contentment was to me so deare, That when some striv'd your courses to restraine, I would not let you their perswasions heare, But made the preacher spend his power in vaine, And still (obsequiously attending neare) What was suggested ready to maintaine; Your purposes to such perfection brought, That of all men you were most happie thought. "Since ye for joy have oft almost been mad, Of which some taste, ye cannot but reserve, What wonder now though ye againe be sad, Who justly suffer what ye did deserve? But I who never any pleasure had, And as a drudge for you did onely serve: Why am I punish'd by superior powers? The torment which I feele should all be yours. "Degener'd soules (though once by God belov'd) That would descend to such a base degree, 1 you to please, have thus too carefull prov'd, And from an angell daign'd your slave to be, Yet, most ingrate, ye (with my griefe not mov'd) Doe moane your selves, and never pitty me: Just indignation hath so strongly seiz'd, I must revenge, but cannot be appeas'd." These monsters straight to plague all meanes doe ply, [ring; Whil'st ratling chaines make all Hell's dungeons The crawling globes of clustring serpents flye, And at an instant both doe lash and sting; In vessels then from deeps that never dry, The scalding sulphure they with fury fling: Who can imagine how the wretches mourne, By flouds and flames, that both must boyle and burne? A wooden body, membred all with bands, (When digging seas) of this an embleme showes, Of groaning captives whil'st a band in bands, To suffer sure, no hope of guerdon knowes, Whil'st them above, their proud commander stands, With threatning words, fierce looks, and cruell blowes: VOL. V.

They lesse then servants, worse then beasts, are slaves :

"The gallye's fall is lower then the graves."

All kinde of paines that mortalls can comprise,
The least below exceedingly exceed;
The bed that rack'd all whom it did surprise;
The stalles whereas each horse man's flesh did feed;
The bull, and all that tyrants did devise,

Which yet in mindes (when nam'd) must horrour breed,

They all (if joyn'd) could not such paine import, As in the Hell's one moment can extort.

But yet all paines which corporall plagues impose
On senses fraile, dispatching life in post,
Are as in time, by measure short of those,
Which must at last defray sinne's fatall cost,
Whil'st ravenous thoughts (excluded from repose)
Doe oft revolve what happinesse they lost:
The minde would wish a lethargy in vaine,
That it eclips'd might never cleare againe.

They now remember then, when forc'd to part,
(The sentence given, and execution crav'd)
From Christ's bright face, which with a heavy heart
They first did see, as by the object brav'd ;
What height of glory he did straight impart,
To happy bands that by his bloud were sav'd:
When this the wicked have with envy seene,
It makes them marke what they might once have
beene.

The parts earst knowne, they many times compare,
With these below where they in anguish lye;
Their recreations taken in the ayre,
Whil'st Heaven for prospect ravish did the eye;
Their walkes on fields adorn'd with beauties rare,
Whose crystall flouds did emulate the skie,
And all the creatures both by sea and land,
Which they for use or pleasure might command.

Since here fraile things, where man from glory fell,
And must to toyles his servile strength imploy,
For all perfections which doe thus excell,
A weeke did make, a moment doth destroy;
This little cottage, where poore slaves doe dwell,
This fatall prison, farre from reall joy;
If it (base earth) in beauty doth abound,
All pav'd with greene, with gold and azure crown'd,

How gorgeous then must that faire building prove,
Of endlesse glory which doth lodge the king;
By whom all creatures that have life doe move,
From whom all goodnesse and true worth doth
spring;

To whom enstall'd in crystall seats above,
A quire of angels Hallelujah sing;
Then they imagine (which doth grieve them more)
What hoasts of saints their Soveraign doe adore.

And what their judgement cannot apprehend,
Like birds of darknesse, feeble in the light,
Their ancient lord on whom they did depend,
Who oft by lyes had drawn them from the right,
He now tels truth, but with as bad an end,
To doe them mischiefe bending all his might:
"No greater falsehood malice can conceive,
Then truth to tell, of purpose to deceive."
Dd

He then at large doth labour to dilate
What was observ'd in Heaven before his fall,
While he (a creature mighty in the state)
Mark'd by his betters, was to envy thrall,
And showes the glory there to be more great,
Then can be thought, farre lesse express'd at all,
And for their losse, them with more griefe to charge,
If possibly he could, he would enlarge.

Thus doe they weigh their losse with fancies strong,
Which was at first so easie to prevent;
Then tell to Satan how (suggesting wrong)
He for their ruine had been alwaies bent,
And like a traitor had abus'd them long,
Till now in end made kuowne by the event:
And yet with them amidst one furnace throwne,
He mockes their paine, though mourning for his owne.

Loe, in this world, men of the stronger sort,
To scape from death, or some disgrace they feare,
Can frustrate justice that would truth extort,
And, when press'd downe, more high their courage
Yea, constantly with tortures can comport, [reare,
Not daigning once a word, a sigh, a teare:
"With divers engines, though sterne paine assailes,
A generous patience, joyn'd with hope, prevailes."
But all the fires which still are burning there,
Where every one a severall torment pines,
Doe no way thaw the frosts of cold despaire,
Whose raging course no season then confines;
No limits are allotted unto care,

To give them ease, no kinde of comfort shines:
And though they finde a weight of huge distresse,
Hope dares not promise that it shall be lesse.

What height of horrour must this justly breed,
To meditate upon the last decree?

How that the wicked, whom vaine pleasures feed,
(By Death disclaym'd) must still tormented be?
That which they suffer, doth all bounds exceed,
In time, in measure, and in each degree,
So that they oft most earnestly desire,
That like to beasts, their being might expire.

Some fondly dream'd a superstitious lye,
And for Hell's paines, a period did attend,
Though Christ's owne words the contrary imply,
"Goe, get you gone to fires that never end;"
Their shame still lasts, their worme doth never dye,
Their torments' smoake for ever doth ascend :
And all of this, that sacred writs report,
The paine perpetuall clearely doth import.

Though as the wicked wickedly have wrought,
Each one of them a due reward shall have,
And when before the Lord in judgement brought,
Shall get againe the measure that they gave;
Yet is their doome by some too rigorous thought,
Who on God's justice would aspersions leave:
And thinke at this they justly may repine,
For temporall faults eternally to pine.

Those that did come to worke in Christ's vine-yard,
All, as in time, in merit differ might,
Yet did at last enjoy the like reward,
All having more, none lesse, then was his right;
So those in Hell whom Sathen gets to guard,
How ever come, are still entomb'd in night:
As Dracon's lawes for every fault gave death,
Each sinner doth deserve eternall wrath.

But justice still to goodnesse would direct,
And sparingly sterne rigour doth extend,
To cut them off, that others might infect,
That one's example many may amend;
Not bent to ruine, onely to correct,

All punish'd are, conforme as they offend :
And none give doomes more cruell then the crimes,
Save fearefull tyrants at suspected times.

If that great King who all the world doth judge,
Damne every one who from the light did stray,
In endlesse shadowes dririly to lodge,

Salt flouds of griefe inunding every way;
It seemes to some that they have cause to grudge,
Who trifling things so dearely doe defray,
And for short joyes which but a time did staine,
Still suffer must intollerable paine.

This from God's judgement derogating nought,
The greater reverence doth from men require;
He markes both what they will'd, and what they
wrought,
From wickednesse that never would retire
Till drawn by death, yea still more time they sought,
And if they could have compass'd their desire,
Their filthy aymes affecting things uncleane,
As boundlesse then, had likewise endlesse beene.
The hand may kill, and yet from bloud be free,
Whil'st casualty, not cruelty, doth arme,
And many times the heart may guilty be,
Though being hindred from inflicting harme;
The lord of it that every thought doth see,
When vanity or violence doth charme;
He verdict gives according to their will,
Though never acting, if affecting ill.

He knew how much they mischiefe did intend,
That vice's current death did onely stay,
Which otherwise had never had an end,
As oft their wishes vainely did bewray;
They who to sinne did all their strength extend,
Should suffer now what possibly they may:
Since him they wrong'd by all the meanes they might,
God punish may with all his power of right.

Loe, treason makes them whom it doth convict,
To loose all that they have, yea, urging more,
Doth on their off-spring punishments inflict,
Whose tainted bloud time never can restore:
This sentence then cannot be counted strict,
In torments still, which makes the wicked roare:
It onely plagues themselves, but none of theirs,
Who to themselves in misery are heires.

These fearefull tyrants, (jealous of their state)
Who would by rigour fright the world from change;
They who did use (the Christian to abate)
In persecutions executions strange;
The inquisition raging now of late,
Whom with the worst we may (as cruell) range;
The torments that they did all three contrive,
To one in Hell, can no way neare arrive.

Not onely are both soule and body pin'd,
By sympathie which mutuall paine imparts,
But each one suffers in a severall kinde,
Sprits from within, and from without the hearts;
Though much the body, more to racke the minde,
New engines are devis'd by which it smarts,