and unjust. He was fallen indeed on "evil days;" the time was come
in which regicides could no longer boast their wickedness. But of
"evil tongues" for Milton to complain, required impudence at least
equal to his other powers; Milton, whose warmest advocates must
allow that he never spared any asperity of reproach or brutality of
insolence.

But the charge itself seems to be false; for it would be hard to
recollect any reproach cast upon him, either serious or ludicrous,
through the whole remaining part of his life. He pursued his
studies or his amusements, without persecution, molestation, or
insult. Such is the reverence paid to great abilities, however
misused; they, who contemplated in Milton the scholar and the wit,
were contented to forget the reviler of his king.

When the plague (1665) raged in London, Milton took refuge at
Chalfont, in Bucks; where Elwood, who had taken the house for him,
first saw a complete copy of "Paradise Lost," and, having perused
it, said to him, "Thou hast said a great deal upon Paradise Lost;
what hast thou to say upon Paradise Found?"

Next year, when the danger of infection had ceased, he returned to
Bunhill Fields, and designed the publication of his poem. A licence
was necessary, and he could expect no great kindness from a chaplain
of the Archbishop of Canterbury. He seems, however, to have been
treated with tenderness; for, though objections were made to
particular passages, and among them to the simile of the sun
eclipsed in the first book, yet the licence was granted; and he sold
his copy, April 27, 1667, to Samuel Simmons, for an immediate
payment of five pounds, with a stipulation to receive five pounds