All these our motions vain sees and derides, Not more almighty to resist our might Then wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles. Shall we then live thus vile, the race of Heaven Thus trampled, thus expelled to suffer here Chains and these torments? Better these than worse, By my advice; since fate inevitable Subdues us, and omnipotent decree, The victor’s will. To suffer, as to do, Our strength is equal, nor the law unjust That so ordains: this was at first resolved, If we were wise, against so great a foe Contending, and so doubtful what might fall. I laugh, when those who at the spear are bold And vent’rous, if that fail them, shrink, and fear What yet they know must follow⁠—to endure Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain, The sentence of their conqueror. This is now Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear, Our supreme foe in time may much remit His anger, and perhaps thus far removed, Not mind us not offending, satisfied With what is punished; whence these raging fires Will slacken, if his breath stir not their flames.