ly

to sing, to dance,
To dress, and troll the tongue, and roll the eye.

But Milton, it is sometimes forgotten, was also the author of that
beautiful eulogy of Eve in the Eighth Book:--

When I approach
Her loveliness, so absolute she seems
And in herself complete, so well to know
Her own, that what she wills to do or say
Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best.
All higher Knowledge in her presence falls
Degraded; Wisdom in discourse with her
Loses, discountenanced, and like Folly shows;
Authority and Reason on her wait,
As one intended first, not after made
Occasionally; and, to consummate all,
Greatness of mind and nobleness their seat
Build in her loveliest, and create an awe
About her, as a guard angelic placed.

It is an exact parallel to Florizel's praise of Perdita in _The Winter's
Tale_:--

When you speak, sweet,
I'd have you do it ever: when you sing,
I'd have you buy and sell so, so give alms,
Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,
To sing them too; when you do dance, I wish you
A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do
Nothing but that; move still, still so,
And own no other function: each your doing,
So singular in each particular,
Crowns what you are doing in the present deed,
That all your acts are queens.

But Florizel addresses his praise to the lady herself; while Adam, who
had never been young, confides it in private to Raphael, after dinner,
and studies a more instructive and authoritative strain in his
conversations with Eve. And now comes a point worthy of remark. The
Angel, to whom, it cannot be doubted, Milton committed the exposition of
his own views, after hearing this confession, frowns, and administers a
tart reproof. He describes Eve, somewhat grudgingly, as "an
outside--fair, no doubt," and peremptorily teaches Adam the duties of
self-appreciation and self-assertion:--

Oft-times nothing profits more
Than self-esteem, grounded on just and right
Well managed. Of that skill the more thou know'st,
The more she will acknowledge thee her head,
And to realities yield all her shows.

And in the sequel, Adam bitterly laments that he had failed to profit by
this advice. He might have been comforted by the wisdom of Chaucer's
Franklin:--

When maistrie cometh, the god of love anon
Beteth his wynges and, farewel