Book i. Paradiſe loſt.
But what if he our Conquerour, (whom I nowOf force believe Almighty, ſince no leſsThen ſuch could hav orepow'rd ſuch force as ours)Have left us this our ſpirit and ſtrength intireStrongly to ſuffer and ſupport our pains,That we may ſo ſuffice his vengeful ire.Or do him mightier ſervice as his thralls150By right of Warr, what e’re his buſineſs beHere in the heart of Hell to work in Fire,Or do his Errands in the gloomy Deep;What can it then avail though yet we feel,Strength undiminiſht, or eternal beingTo undergo eternal puniſhment?Whereto with ſpeedy words th’Arch-fiend reply'd. Fall’n Cherube, to be weak is miſerableDoing or Suffering: but of this be ſure,To do ought good never will be our task,160But ever to do ill our foie delight.As being the contrary to his high willWhom we reſiſt. If then his Providence,Out of our evil ſeek to bring forth good.Our labour muſt be to pervert that end.And out of good ſtill to find means of evil;Which oft times may ſucceed, ſo as perhapsShall grieve him,; if faiil not, and diſturbHis inmoſt counſels from their deſtind aim.But ſee the angry Victor hath recall’d170 His Miniſtees of vengeance and purſuitBack to the Gates of Heav’n : The Sulphurous HailShot after us in ſtorm, oreblown hath laidThe fiery Surge, that from the PrecipiceOf Heav’n receiv'd us falling, and the Thunder,
Wing’d
