Milton's Comus Quotes
Milton's Comus
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John Milton665 ratings, 3.63 average rating, 62 reviews
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Milton's Comus Quotes
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“Mortals that would follow me,
Love virtue, she alone is free,
She can teach ye how to climb
Higher than the sphery chime;
Or if virtue feeble were,
Heaven itself would stoop to her.”
― Milton's Comus
Love virtue, she alone is free,
She can teach ye how to climb
Higher than the sphery chime;
Or if virtue feeble were,
Heaven itself would stoop to her.”
― Milton's Comus
“So dear to heaven is saintly chastity,
That when a soul is found sincerely so,
A thousand liveried angels lackey her,
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,
And in clear dream, and solemn vision
Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear,
Till oft converse with heavenly habitants
Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape,
The unpolluted temple of the mind,
And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence,
Till all be made immortal”
― Milton's Comus
That when a soul is found sincerely so,
A thousand liveried angels lackey her,
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,
And in clear dream, and solemn vision
Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear,
Till oft converse with heavenly habitants
Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape,
The unpolluted temple of the mind,
And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence,
Till all be made immortal”
― Milton's Comus
“Come let us haste, the stars grow high,
But night sits monarch yet in the mid sky.”
― Milton's Comus
But night sits monarch yet in the mid sky.”
― Milton's Comus
“Mortals that would follow me,
Love virtue, she alone is free,
She can teach ye how to climb
Higher than they sphery chime;
Or if virtue feeble were,
Heaven itself would stoop to her.”
― Milton's Comus
Love virtue, she alone is free,
She can teach ye how to climb
Higher than they sphery chime;
Or if virtue feeble were,
Heaven itself would stoop to her.”
― Milton's Comus
“Dark vaild Cotytto, t’ whom the secret flame
Of mid-night Torches burns; mysterious Dame
That ne’re art call’d, but when the Dragon woom
Of Stygian darknes spets her thickest gloom,
And makes one blot of all the ayr”
― Milton's Comus
Of mid-night Torches burns; mysterious Dame
That ne’re art call’d, but when the Dragon woom
Of Stygian darknes spets her thickest gloom,
And makes one blot of all the ayr”
― Milton's Comus
