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The Unsunn'd Heaps Of Miser's Treasure. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 398
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The unsunn'd heaps
Of miser's treasure.
-- John Milton (1608-1674)
-- Comus, Line 398
Related:
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
His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power.
-- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 816...
That golden key That opes the palace of eternity. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 13
These my sky-robes spun out of Iris' woof. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 83
Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call earth.
-- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 5...
And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 727