Let her (Truth) and Falsehood grapple; who ever knew Truth put to the worse in a free and open encounter?

Knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord Envy them that? Can it be a sin to know? Can it be death?

Beyond is all abyss, eternity, whose end no eye can reach.

To adore the conqueror, who now beholds Cherub and seraph rolling in the flood.

How charming is divine philosophy! Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets Where no crude surfeit reigns

With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, Confusion worse confounded.

Pandemonium, the high capital Of Satan and his peers.