John Dryden Quotes

Youth, beauty, graceful action seldom fail,
But common interest always will prevail.

Second thoughts, they say, are best.

Hati-hati terhadap kemarahan orang yang penyabar.

Be kind to my remains; and oh defend,
Against your judgment, your departed friend!

So, when the last and dreadful Hour
This crumbling Pageant shall devour,
The trumpet shall be heard on high,
The dead shall live, the living die,
And musick shall untune the Sky.

Whistling to keep myself from being afraid.

so meer Poets and meer Musicians, are as sottish as meer Drunkards are, who live in a continuall mist without seeing, or judgeing any thing clearly.
A man should be learn'd in severall Sciences, and should have a rea∣sonable Philosophicall, and ni some measure a Mathematicall head; to be a compleat and excellent Poet

A man so various, that he seem'd to be
Not one, but all Mankinds Epitome.
Stiff in Opinions, always in the wrong;
Was every thing by starts, and nothing long:
But, in the course of one revolving Moon,
Was Chymist, Fidler, States-Man, and Buffoon:
Then all for Women, Painting, Rhiming, Drinking;
Besides ten thousand freaks that dy'd in thinking.
Blest Madman, who coud every hour employ,
With something New to wish, or to enjoy!
Rayling and praising were his usual Theams;
And both (to shew his Judgment) in Extreams:
So over Violent, or over Civil,
That every man, with him, was God or Devil.
In squandring Wealth was his peculiar Art:
Nothing went unrewarded, but Desert.
Begger'd by Fools, whom still he found too late:
He had his Jest, and they had his Estate.

It is sufficient to say, according to the proverb, that here is God's plenty.

And threat'ning France, plac'd like a painted Jove,
Kept idle thunder in his lifted hand.

Not only hating David, but the king.

Words, once my stock, are wanting to commend
So great a poet and so good a friend.

Joy rul'd the day, and Love the night.

NOW with a general Peace the World was blest, While Ours, a World divided from the rest,

Tremble ye Nations who secure before, 115 Laught at those Arms that’ gainst our selves we bore;