He sat; and in th' assembly next upstood NISROC, of Principalities the prime; As one he stood escap't from cruel fight, Sore toild, his riv'n Armes to havoc hewn, And cloudie in aspect thus answering spake.

Deliverer from new Lords, leader to free Enjoyment of our right as Gods; yet hard For Gods, and too unequal work we find Against unequal armes to fight in paine, Against unpaind, impassive; from which evil Ruin must needs ensue; for what availes Valour or strength, though matchless, quelld with pain Which all subdues, and makes remiss the hands Of Mightiest.

Sense of pleasure we may well Spare out of life perhaps, and not repine, But live content, which is the calmest life: But pain is perfet miserie, the worst Of evils, and excessive, overturnes All patience.

He who therefore can invent With what more forcible we may offend Our yet unwounded Enemies, or arme Our selves with like defence, to mee deserves No less then for deliverance what we owe.

Whereto with look compos'd SATAN repli'd.