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Shame on the body for breaking down while the spirit perseveres.

John Dryden

Sure there is none but fears a future state; And when the most obdurate swear they do not, Their trembling hearts belie their boasting tongues.
JOHN DRYDEN

Future Heart State Tongue Tremble
Shakespeare was the Homer, or father of our dramatic poets;Jonson was theVirgil, the pattern of elaborate writing; I admire him, but I love Shakespeare.
JOHN DRYDEN

Admire Drama Father Himself Home Poet Writing
None, none descends into himself, to find The secret imperfections of his mind: But every one is eagle-ey’d to see Another’s faults, and his deformity.
JOHN DRYDEN

Finding Himself Imperfection Mistake Secret
A happy genius is the gift of nature.
JOHN DRYDEN

Genius Gift Happy Nature
For your ignorance is the mother of your devotion to me.
JOHN DRYDEN

Devotion Ignorance Mom Myself Yourself
No king nor nation one moment can retard the appointed hour.
JOHN DRYDEN

King Mad Moments Nation
Love is a passion Which kindles honor into noble acts.
JOHN DRYDEN

Act Honor Love Passion
While I am compassed round With mirth, my soul lies hid in shades of grief, Whence, like the bird of night, with half-shut eyes, She peeps, and sickens at the sight of day.
JOHN DRYDEN

Day Eyes Round Shade Sight Soul
Only man clogs his happiness with care, destroying what is with thoughts of what may be.
JOHN DRYDEN

Care Destroy Happiness Man Thinking
Deathless laurel is the victor’s due.
JOHN DRYDEN

Death Due
A man is to be cheated into passion, but to be reasoned into truth.
JOHN DRYDEN

Cheating Man Passion Reason Truth
Trust on and think To-morrow will repay; To-morrow’s falser than the former day; Lies worse; and while it says, we shall be blest With some new Joys, cuts off what we possest.
JOHN DRYDEN

Fake Happiness Thinking Trust
A woman’s counsel brought us first to woe, And made her man his paradise forego, Where at heart’s ease he liv’d; and might have been As free from sorrow as he was from sin.
JOHN DRYDEN

Himself Man Paradise Sin Sorrow Woman
Satire is a kind of poetry in which human vices are reprehended.
JOHN DRYDEN

Human Kind Poetry Satire Vice
God never made his work for man to mend.
JOHN DRYDEN

God Man Mend Work
For age but tastes of pleasures youth devours.
JOHN DRYDEN

Age Devour Pleasure Taste Youth

Shame on the body for breaking down while the spirit perseveres.

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Shame on the body for breaking down while the spirit perseveres.

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