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He who tempts, though in vain, at last asperses The tempted with dishonor foul, supposed Not incorruptible of faith, not proof Against temptation.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Lasts
Foul
Last
Tempted
Faith
Corruption
Temptation
Vain
Proof
Incorruptible
Supposed
Tempts
Though
Dishonor
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Midnight brought on the dusky hour Friendliest to sleep and silence.
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Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
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There is no truth sure enough to justify persecution.
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Let us descend now therefore from this top Of speculation.
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This is servitude, To serve th'unwise, or him who hath rebelled Against his worthier, as thine now serve thee, Thyself not free, but to thyself enthralled.
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Our cure, to be no more sad cure!
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To be blind is not miserable not to be able to bear blindness, that is miserable.
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With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, Confusion worse confounded.
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Eloquence the soul, song charms the senses.
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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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Part of my soul I seek thee, and claim thee my other half
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O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere.
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Courage never to submit of yield.
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But O yet more miserable! Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave.
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Rhime being no necessary Adjunct or true Ornament of Poem or good Verse, in longer Works especially, but the Invention of a barbarous Age, to set off wretched matter and lame Meeter...the troublesom and modern bondage of Rimeing.
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Luck is the residue of design.
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Heaven, the seat of bliss, Brooks not the works of violence and war.
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Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.
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And now without redemption all mankind Must have been lost, adjudged to death and hell By doom severe.
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But let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloisters pale, And love the high embowed roof, With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight Casting a dim religious light.
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