Related:

• Or if Virtue feeble were, Heav'n itself would stoop to her.
  -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 1022...
• And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 727
• Budge doctors of the Stoic fur. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 707
• Fill'd the air with barbarous dissonance. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 550
• Such sober certainty of waking bliss. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 263
• The star that bids the shepherd fold. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 93
• The unsunn'd heaps Of miser's treasure. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 398
• When the gray-hooded Even, Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed, Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain.
  -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 188...
• Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call earth.
  -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 5...