John Milton

Who would not, finding way, break loose from hell,
. . . .
And boldly venture to read more

Who would not, finding way, break loose from hell,
. . . .
And boldly venture to whatever place
Farthest from pain?

Peace hath her victories No less renown'd than war.

Peace hath her victories No less renown'd than war.

O visions ill foreseen! Better had I
Liv'd ignorant of future, so had borne
My part of read more

O visions ill foreseen! Better had I
Liv'd ignorant of future, so had borne
My part of evil only.

Soon as the potion works, their human count'nance,
Th' express resemblance of the gods, is chang'd
Into read more

Soon as the potion works, their human count'nance,
Th' express resemblance of the gods, is chang'd
Into some bruitish form of wolf or bear,
Or ounce or tiger, hog, or bearded goat,
All other parts remaining as they were;
And they, so perfect in their misery,
Not once perceive their foul disfigurement.

But his zeal
None seconded, as out of season judged,
Or singular and rash.

But his zeal
None seconded, as out of season judged,
Or singular and rash.