Hide me from day’s garish eye, While the bee with honied thigh, That at her flowery work doth sing, And the waters murmuring With such consort as they keep, Entice the dewy-feathered sleep.
Danger will wink on opportunity.
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.
Hear all ye angels, progeny of light, Thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
Now I see Peace to corrupt no less than war to waste.
God is decreeing to begin some newand great period in his Church, even to the reforming of Reformation itself. What does he then but reveal Himself to his servants, and as his manner is, first to his Englishmen?
Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves.
This manner of writing wherein knowing myself inferior to myself? I have the use, as I may account it, but of my left hand.
A boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos’d.
Pandemonium, the high capital Of Satan and his peers.
Time is the subtle thief of youth.
Ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void.
Angels contented with their face in heaven, Seek not the praise of men.
Taste this, and be henceforth among the Gods thyself a Goddess.
With thee conversing I forget all time.
Sweet bird, that shun the noise of folly, most musical, most melancholy!
Thus Belial, with words clothed in reason’s garb, counseled ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth, not peace.
Boast not of what thou would’st have done, but do.
That virtue therefore which is but a youngling in the contemplation of evil, and knows not the utmost that vice promises to her followers, and rejects it, is but a blank virtue, not a pure; her whiteness is but an excremental whiteness.