John Milton

From morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,-- A summer's day; and with the setting sun Dropp'd from the Zenith like a falling star.

Behold now this vast city [London]; a city of refuge, the mansion-house of liberty, encompassed and surrounded with His protection.

Freely we serve, Because we freely love, as in our will To love or not; in this we stand or fall.

Hail wedded love, mysterious law, true source Of human offspring, sole propriety, In Paradise of all things common else. . . .

What thou art is mine; Our state cannot be sever'd, we are one, One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself.

Chaos umpire sits And by decision more embroils the fray by which he reigns: next him high arbiter Chance governs all.

Then wilt thou not be loath To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess A Paradise within thee, happier far.

Better to rule in Hell than to serve in Heaven.

Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.

For neither man nor angel can discern Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks Invisible, except to God alone.