The Presbyterians – Milton’s erstwhile allies against the Bishops – called on Parliament to suppress his tracts. Sonnet XII has traditionally been read as Milton’s embittered response to this rejection, but some critics have argued that the poem is really aimed at the radical sects who embraced Milton’s views too enthusiastically. The disputed lines are these:

But this is got by casting pearl to hogs;
That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood,
And still revolt when truth would set them free. (8–10)

Critics often ask how the Presbyterians can be said to ‘revolt’ when they wanted to reaffirm the conservative divorce laws. Such critics assume that ‘revolt’ has its modern meaning, and so must refer to the radical sects. The modern sense of ‘revolt’ did exist, but so did the opposite sense: ‘draw back from a course of action, return to one’s allegiance’ (OED 2b). ‘Still revolt’ might therefore mean ‘continually backslide’. This sense suits the Presbyterians, who had bawled for freedom from episcopacy, but shrank from reforming the divorce laws when God offered them the freedom they had asked for. This is not to deny that the modern sense of ‘revolt’ also asserts itself. Milton plays the two meanings against each other to imply that his conservative foes are the real rebels – against truth. Such a pun on ‘revolt’ is characteristic of Milton. He often uses it in his prose, and the Presbyterians are always his target.

The scholarly tradition of noting biblical and classical allusions in Milton’s poetry began in 1695 with Patrick Hume’s Annotations on Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost’. Hume’s notes have a special claim to our attention, for they provide an insight into how an educated seventeenth-century reader responded to Milton’s epic. Other valuable early editions include those of Zachary Pearce, the Jonathan Richardsons, and Thomas Newton. The greatest edition of recent decades is that of Alastair Fowler and John Carey. Every new edition is indebted to its predecessors, and the present text is no exception. It would be a mistake, however, to suppose that all of the analogues and allusions in the editorial tradition are the straightforward accumulation of centuries of disinterested inquiry. Recognizing an allusion is inescapably an interpretative act. Milton’s editors, consciously or unconsciously, have privileged those analogues that most evidently support the poems’ orthodox morality. The result is that Milton’s allusive art has been made to seem more univocal than it really is. Editors and critics alike have tended to place too exclusive an emphasis on analogues that are safe. This is a pity because Milton’s poetry draws much of its power from analogues that are unsafe. Sometimes an analogue will seem troublingly out of place. At other times, two or more analogues will compete for the same space. Obviously there is a danger of subjectivity here. Not everyone will agree about the pertinence of every supposed allusion. But it is not the case that safe allusions are always more obvious and accessible. Often it is the unsafe or problematic analogue that lies more readily to hand. In the notes to this edition I have tried to be open to problematic analogues in the belief that they invite interesting and liberating questions.

An example of a problematic analogue may be found in A Masque when the Second Brother expresses the fear that his sister might fall victim to sexual assault. The Elder Brother (who believes that virgins enjoy supernatural protection against assault) tries to assure his brother that there is nothing to worry about.