The Adamus exul of Grotius; or The Prototype of Paradise Lost — page 56: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Adam. Eve. Adam. Eve. A TRAGEDY.--ACT IV. But faith and love towards the Invisible Supreme still bind me with eternal chains. "Tis folly so to love as to forget Your love may prove your enemy. So love As not to give occasion for the birth Of hate. But grant love’s yoke delectable To bear—what then? Is it to be preferred Before our conjugal bond, love’s proper pledge ? What ill have I committed half so bad As this, to call in question the true faith Of your own wife? For shame! Can I be blest, And yet suspected, vilified? I must Indeed become most hateful, if I fail Of love from him whose love is more than life ! Thy words have half unmann’d me. Equal cares Perplex my harassed soul: the love of God— The love of woman—mighty both, and strong Necessities of nature. If I break his will He holds me his despiser ; and if her’s, She calls herself suspected. How my heart Is urged betwixt the opposing tides of love ! Even like a narrow shore, washed by the waves Of storm-embattled oceans, so my soul Is wrought by the stern conflict of desires And passionate aspirations. O my God! Till now I nothing else have loved but Thee ; I loved Thee even in her: because she seemed Thy second image —thy pure spiritual love Embodied in its beauty, and brought down From heaven to earth, to lead my thought-racked soul Back to the skies. Ah! what can I deny To one so precious P—Unto Thee the theft Of this sole fruit is less a bitter crime Than breach of thy command, the last, the best, Of conjugal affection. Therefore I Will taste the fruit already in my hand. O' words well worthy of the name of man ! Now am I sure thou lov’st me: taste and prove The mystic virtues of this marvellous fruit, And learn both good and evil. God shall find An equal, and be jealous, though in vain, Of human deities, to whom, no doubt, Prayers also shall be made. Alas! what now ? What sudden paleness falls upon thy cheek ? How droops thy head! Methinks the curse of Heaven, The horrible, the avenging stroke of death Already blights him. O my God, my God! On me hurl all thy thunders ; pour at once Thy blasting indignation ; but Oh spare ! Spare, for thy love’s sake, spare my innocent husband ! CO inn 39 @ DOO <S (c@