Page:Paradise Lost (1667).djvu/56

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Book 2.
Paradiſe loſt.
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, ſwallowed up and loſt In the wide womb of uncreated night, 150Devoid 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, 160Reſerv’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 170Awak’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

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