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Book 3.
Paradiſe loſt.

With many a vain exploit, though then renowned:
The builders next of Babel on the Plain
Of Sennaar, and ſtill with vain deſigne
New Babels, had they wherewithall, would build:
Others came ſingle; hee who to be deemd
470A God, leap'd fondly into Ætna flames,
Empedocles, and hee who to enjoy
Plato’s Elyſium, leap'd into the Sea,
Cleombrotus, and many more too long,
Embryo's and Idiots, Eremits, and Friers
White, Black and Grey, with all thir trumperie.
Here Pilgrims roam, that ſtray'd ſo farr to ſeek
In Golgotha him dead, who lives in Heav’n;
And they who to be ſure of Paradiſe
Dying put on the weeds of Dominic,
480Or in Franciſcan think to paſs diſguis'd;
They paſs the Planets ſeven, and paſs the fixt,
And that Cryſtalline Sphear whoſe ballance weighs
The Trepidation talkt, and that firſt mov'd;
And now Saint Peter at Heav’ns Wicket ſeems
To wait them with his Keys, and now at foot
Of Heav’ns aſcent they lift their Feet, when loe
A violent croſs wind from either Coaſt
Blows them tranſverſe ten thousand Leagues awry
Into the devious Air; then might ye ſee
490Cowles, Hoods, and Habits with thir wearers, toſt
And flutterd into Raggs, then Reliques, Beads,
Indulgences, Diſpenſes, Pardons, Bulls,
The ſport of Winds: all theſe, upwhirld aloft
Fly o’re the backſide of the World farr off
Into a Limbo large and broad, ſince calld
The Paradiſe of Fools, to few unknown