Poem 10

To hellish falsehood, snare them. But for thee I had persisted happy, had not thy pride And wandering vanity, when least was safe, Rejected my forewarning, and disdained Not to be trusted, longing to be seen, Though by the Devil himself, him overweening To overreach; but, with the Serpent meeting, Fooled and beguiled; by him thou, I by thee, To trust thee from my side, imagined wise, Constant, mature, proof against all assaults; And understood not all was but a show, Rather than solid virtue, all but a rib Crooked by nature⁠—bent, as now appears, More to the part sinister⁠—from me drawn; Well if thrown out, as supernumerary To my just number found! Oh, why did God, Creator wise, that peopled highest Heaven With Spirits masculine, create at last This novelty on Earth, this fair defect Of Nature, and not fill the World at once With men, as Angels, without feminine; Or find some other way to generate Mankind? This mischief had not then befallen, And more that shall befall⁠—innumerable Disturbances on Earth through female snares, And strait conjunction with this sex. For either He never shall find out fit mate, but such As some misfortune brings him, or mistake; Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain, Through her perverseness, but shall see her gained By a far worse, or, if she love, withheld By parents; or his happiest choice too late Shall meet, already