to incense
  His utmost ire? which to the highth enrag'd,
  Will either quite consume us, and reduce
  To nothing this essential, happier farr
  Then miserable to have eternal being:
  Or if our substance be indeed Divine,
  And cannot cease to be, we are at worst
  On this side nothing; and by proof we feel
  Our power sufficient to disturb his Heav'n,
  And with perpetual inrodes to Allarme,
  Though inaccessible, his fatal Throne:
  Which if not Victory is yet Revenge.

    He ended frowning, and his look denounc'd
  Desperate revenge, and Battel dangerous
  To less then Gods. On th' other side up rose
  BELIAL, in act more graceful and humane;
  A fairer person lost not Heav'n; he seemd
  For dignity compos'd and high exploit:
  But all was false and hollow; though his Tongue
  Dropt Manna, and could make the worse appear
  The better reason, to perplex and dash
  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
  Incapable of stain would soon expel
  Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire
  Victorious. Thus repuls'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 & 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 worst,
  If we procure not to our selves more woe.

    Thus BELIAL with words cloath'd in reasons garb
  Counsel'd ignoble ease, and peaceful sloath,
  Not peace: and after him thus MAMMON spake.

    Either to disinthrone the King of Heav'n
  We warr, if warr be best, or to regain
  Our own right lost: him to unthrone we then
  May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yeild
  To fickle Chance, and CHAOS judge the strife:
  The former vain to hope argues as vain
  The latter: for what place can be for us
  Within Heav'ns bound, unless Heav'ns Lord supream
  We overpower? Suppose he should relent
  And publish Grace to all, on promise made
  Of new Subjection; with what eyes could we
  Stand in his presence humble, and receive
  Strict Laws impos'd, to celebrate his Throne
  With warbl'd Hymns, and to his Godhead sing
  Forc't Halleluiah's; while he Lordly sits
  Our envied Sovran, and his Altar breathes
  Ambrosial Odours and Ambrosial Flowers,
  Our servile offerings. This must be our task
  In Heav'n, this our delight; how wearisom