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But all was false and hollow though his tongue Dropp'd manna, and could make the worse appear The better reason, 4 to perplex and dash Maturest counsels.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Worse
Perplex
Though
Manna
Reason
Counsels
Better
Dash
Make
Hollow
Appear
False
Tongue

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Knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord Envy them that? Can it be sin to know, Can it be death? And do they only stand By ignorance? Is that their happy state, The proof of their obedience and their faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Their ruin!
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None But such as are good men can give good things, And that which is not good, is not delicious To a well-govern'd and wise appetite.
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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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Those whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
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The starry cope Of heaven.
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In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.
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Each tree Laden with fairest fruit, that hung to th' eye Tempting, stirr'd in me sudden appetite To pluck and eat.
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O madness to think use of strongest wines And strongest drinks our chief support of health, When God with these forbidden made choice to rear His mighty champion, strong above compare, Whose drink was only from the liquid brook.
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For so I created them free and free they must remain.
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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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I must not quarrel with the will Of highest dispensation, which herein, Haply had ends above my reach to know.
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A good principle not rightly understood may prove as hurtful as a bad.
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Fate shall yield To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife.
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Zeal and duty are not slow But on occasion's forelock watchful wait.
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Not to know me argues yourselves unknown.
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So little knows Any, but God alone, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to their meanest use.
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For the air of youth, Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reign A melancholy damp of cold and dry To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume The balm of life.
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Mutual love, the crown of all our bliss.
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Which way I fly is Hell myself am Hell.
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Satan so call him now, his former name Is heard no more in heaven.
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