None would live past years again, Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain; And, from the dregs of life, think to receive, What the first sprightly running could not give.
JOHN DRYDENSo the false spider, when her nets are spread, deep ambushed in her silent den does lie.
More John Dryden Quotes
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Fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods, and wing their hasty flight to happier lands.
JOHN DRYDEN -
What, start at this! when sixty years have spread. Their grey experience o’er thy hoary head? Is this the all observing age could gain? Or hast thou known the world so long in vain?
JOHN DRYDEN -
Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, See the Furies arise!
JOHN DRYDEN -
Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave deserves the fair.
JOHN DRYDEN -
To die for faction is a common evil, But to be hanged for nonsense is the devil.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Since a true knowledge of nature gives us pleasure, a lively imitation of it, either in poetry or painting, must produce a much greater; for both these arts are not only true imitations of nature, but of the best nature.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Truth is the foundation of all knowledge and the cement of all societies.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Better to hunt in fields, for health unbought, Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught, The wise, for cure, on exercise depend; God never made his work for man to mend.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Not sharp revenge, nor hell itself can find, A fiercer torment than a guilty mind, Which day and night doth dreadfully accuse, Condemns the wretch, and still the charge renews.
JOHN DRYDEN -
He who trusts secrets to a servant makes him his master.
JOHN DRYDEN -
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 -
If thou dost still retain the same ill habits, the same follies, too, still thou art bound to vice, and still a slave.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Mighty things from small beginnings grow.
JOHN DRYDEN -
But love’s a malady without a cure.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Those who write ill, and they who ne’er durst write, Turn critics out of mere revenge and spite.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Here lies my wife: here let her lie! Now she’s at rest, and so am I.
JOHN DRYDEN -
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 -
Luxurious kings are to their people lost, They live like drones, upon the public cost.
JOHN DRYDEN -
They think too little who talk too much.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Love and Time with reverence use, Treat them like a parting friend: Nor the golden gifts refuse Which in youth sincere they send: For each year their price is more, And they less simple than before.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Merit challenges envy.
JOHN DRYDEN -
He look’d in years, yet in his years were seen A youthful vigor, and autumnal green.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Anger will never disappear so long as thoughts of resentment are cherished in the mind. Anger will disappear just as soon as thoughts of resentment are forgotten.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Present joys are more to flesh and blood Than a dull prospect of a distant good.
JOHN DRYDEN -
God never made his work for man to mend.
JOHN DRYDEN -
For Art may err, but Nature cannot miss.
JOHN DRYDEN