Why is life giv'n To be thus wrested from us?
rather why Obtruded on us thus?
who if we knew What we receive, would either not accept Life offer'd, or soon beg to lay it down, Glad to be so dismist in peace.

Can thus Th' Image of God in man created once So goodly and erect, though faultie since, To such unsightly sufferings be debas't Under inhuman pains?
Why should not Man, Retaining still Divine similitude In part, from such deformities be free, And for his Makers Image sake exempt?
Thir Makers Image, answerd MICHAEL, then Forsook them, when themselves they villifi'd To serve ungovern'd appetite, and took His Image whom they serv'd, a brutish vice, Inductive mainly to the sin of EVE.

Therefore so abject is thir punishment, Disfiguring not Gods likeness, but thir own, Or if his likeness, by themselves defac't While they pervert pure Natures healthful rules To loathsom sickness, worthily, since they Gods Image did not reverence in themselves.

I yeild it just, said ADAM, and submit.

But is there yet no other way, besides These painful passages, how we may come To Death, and mix with our connatural dust?
There is, said MICHAEL, if thou well observe The rule of not too much, by temperance taught In what thou eatst and drinkst, seeking from thence Due nourishment, not gluttonous delight, Till many years over thy head return: So maist thou live, till like ripe Fruit thou drop Into thy Mothers lap, or be with ease Gatherd, not harshly pluckt, for death mature: This is old age; but then thou must outlive Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty, which will change To witherd weak & gray; thy Senses then Obtuse, all taste of pleasure must forgoe, To what thou hast, and for the Aire of youth Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reigne A melancholly damp of cold and dry To waigh thy spirits down, and last consume The Balme of Life.