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Not to know me argues yourselves unknown.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Argues
Unknown
Arguing
Fame

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Heav'nly love shall outdoo Hellish hate
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Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt, Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled.
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In vain doth valour bleed, While Avarice and Rapine share the land.
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For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them.
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The superior man acquaints himself with many sayings of antiquity and many deeds of the past, in order to strengthen his character thereby.
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Come and trip it as ye go On the light fantastic toe.
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But pain is perfect misery, the worst Of evils, and excessive, overturns All patience.
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Lords are lordliest in their wine.
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O Conscience, into what abyss of fears And horrors hast thou driven me, out of which I find no way, from deep to deeper plunged.
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Sweetest Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen Within thy airy shell, By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-embroidered vale.
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God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest They also serve who only stand and wait.
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Implied Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yielded, by him best receiv'd,- Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay.
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Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame,-nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death so noble.
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Let us descend now therefore from this top Of speculation.
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For neither man nor angel can discern hypocrisy, the only evil that walks invisible, except to God alone.
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And fast by, hanging in a golden chain, This pendent world, in bigness as a star Of smallest magnitude, close by the moon.
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Fairy elves, Whose midnight revels by a forest side Or fountain some belated peasant sees, Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon Sits arbitress.
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And, when night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
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No man who knows aught, can be so stupid to deny that all men naturally were born free.
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But that from us aught should ascend to Heav'n So prevalent as to concern the mind Of God, high-bless'd, or to incline His will, Hard to belief may seem yet this will prayer.
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