Paradise Lost

What fear we then? what doubt we 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.