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Honor is but an empty bubble.

John Dryden

For those whom God to ruin has design’d, He fits for fate, and first destroys their mind.
JOHN DRYDEN

Design God Mindset Ruin
The sooner you treat your son as a man, the sooner he will be one.
JOHN DRYDEN

Himself Man Son Treat
I am resolved to grow fat and look young till forty, and then slip out of the world with the first wrinkle and the reputation of five-and-twenty.
JOHN DRYDEN

Growth Myself Reputation Young
Many things impossible to thought have been by need to full perfection brought.
JOHN DRYDEN

Brought Impossible Need Perfection
He look’d in years, yet in his years were seen A youthful vigor, and autumnal green.
JOHN DRYDEN

Green Himself Youth
But love’s a malady without a cure.
JOHN DRYDEN

Cure Love
Never was patriot yet, but was a fool.
JOHN DRYDEN

Fools One Liner Patriot
Him of the western dome, whose weighty sense Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence.
JOHN DRYDEN

Elegant Flower Heaven Western
Three poets, in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. The first in loftiness of thought surpass’d; The next, in majesty; in both the last. The force of Nature could no further go; To make a third, she join’d the former two.
JOHN DRYDEN

Age Distant Force Herself Nature Poet
Treason is greatest where trust is greatest.
JOHN DRYDEN

Greatness Treason Trust
Swift was the race, but short the time to run.
JOHN DRYDEN

Race Run Swift Time
But when to sin our biased nature leans, The careful Devil is still at hand with means; And providently pimps for ill desires.
JOHN DRYDEN

Desire Hands Nature Sick Sin
Forgiveness to the injured does belong; but they ne’er pardon who have done wrong.
JOHN DRYDEN

Forgiveness Injury Wrong
I saw myself the lambent easy light Gild the brown horror, and dispel the night.
JOHN DRYDEN

Brown Easy Light Night
They think too little who talk too much.
JOHN DRYDEN

Talk Thinking
Satire is a kind of poetry in which human vices are reprehended.
JOHN DRYDEN

Human Kind Poetry Satire Vice

Honor is but an empty bubble.

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Honor is but an empty bubble.

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