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      Maturest Counsels: for his thoughts were low;

      To vice industrious, but to Nobler deeds

      Timorous and slothful: yet he pleas’d the eare,

      And with perswasive accent thus began.

      I should be much for open Warr, O Peers,

      As not behind in hate; if what was urg’d

      Main reason to perswade immediate Warr,

      Did not disswade me most, and seem to cast

      Ominous conjecture on the whole success:

      When he who most excels in fact of Arms,

      In what he counsels and in what excels

      Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair

      And utter dissolution, as the scope

      Of all his aim, after some dire revenge.

      First, what Revenge? the Towrs of Heav’n are fill’d

      With Armed watch, that render all access

      Impregnable; oft on the bordering Deep

      Encamp thir Legions, or with obscure wing

      Scout farr and wide into the Realm of night,

      Scorning surprize. Or could we break our way

      By force, and at our heels all Hell should rise

      With blackest Insurrection, to confound

      Heav’ns purest Light, yet our great Enemie

      All incorruptible would on his Throne

      Sit unpolluted, and th’ Ethereal mould

      Incapible of stain would soon expel

      Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire

      Victorious. Thus repurs’d, our final hope

      Is flat despair; we must exasperate

      Th’ Almighty Victor to spend all his rage,

      And that must end us, that must be our cure,

      To be no more; sad cure; for who would loose,

      Though full of pain, this intellectual being,

      Those thoughts that wander through Eternity,

      To perish rather, swallowd up and lost

      In the wide womb of uncreated night,

      Devoid of sense and motion? and who knows,

      Let this be good, whether our angry Foe

      Can give it, or will ever? how he can

      Is doubtful; that he never will is sure.

      Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire,

      Belike through impotence, or unaware,

      To give his Enemies thir wish, and end

      Them in his anger, whom his anger saves

      To punish endless? wherefore cease we then?

      Say they who counsel Warr, we are decreed,

      Reserv’d and destin’d to Eternal woe;

      Whatever doing, what can we suffer more,

      What can we suffer worse? is this then worst,

      Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in Arms?

      What when we fled amain, pursu’d and strook

      With Heav’ns afflicting Thunder, and besought

      The Deep to shelter us? this Hell then seem’d

      A refuge from those wounds: or when we lay

      Chain’d on the burning Lake? that sure was worse.

      What if the breath that kindl’d those grim fires

      Awak’d should blow them into sevenfold rage

      And plunge us in the Flames? or from above

      Should intermitted vengeance Arme again

      His red right hand to plague us? what if all

      Her stores were op’n’d, and this Firmament

      Of Hell should spout her Cataracts of Fire,

      Impendent horrors, threatning hideous fall

      One day upon our heads; while we perhaps

      Designing or exhorting glorious Warr,

      Caught in a fierie Tempest shall be hurl’d

      Each on his rock transfixt, the sport and prey

      Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk

      Under yon boyling Ocean, wrapt in Chains;

      There to converse with everlasting groans,

      Unrespited, unpitied, unrepreevd,

      Ages of hopeless end; this would be worse.

      Warr therefore, open or conceal’d, alike

      My voice disswades; for what can force or guile

      With him, or who deceive his mind, whose eye

      Views all things at one view, he from heav’ns highth

      All these our motions vain, sees and derides;

      Not more Almighty to resist our might

      Then wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles.

      Shall we then live thus vile, the race of Heav’n

      Thus trampl’d, thus expell’d to suffer here

      Chains and these Torments? better these then worse

      By my advice; since fate inevitable

      Subdues us, and Omnipotent Decree

      The Victors will. To suffer, as to doe,

      Our strength is equal, nor the Law unjust

      That so ordains: this was at first resolv’d,

      If we were wise, against so great a foe

      Contending, and so doubtful what might fall.

      I laugh, when those who at the Spear are bold

      And vent’rous, if that fail them, shrink and fear

      What yet they know must follow, to endure

      Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain,

      The sentence of thir Conquerour: This is now

      Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear,

      Our Supream Foe in time may much remit

      His anger, and perhaps thus farr remov’d

      Not mind us not offending, satisfi’d

      With what is punish’t; whence these raging fires

      Will slack’n, if his breath stir not thir flames.

      Our purer essence then will overcome

      Thir noxious vapour, or enur’d not feel,

      Or chang’d at length, and to the place conformd

      In temper and in nature, will receive

      Familiar the fierce heat, and void of pain;

      This horror will grow milde, this darkness light,

      Besides what hope the never-ending flight

      Of future days may bring, what chance, what change

      Worth waiting, since our present lot appeers

      For happy though but ill, for ill not

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