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Him of the western dome, whose weighty sense Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence.

John Dryden

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
Nothing to build, and all things to destroy.
JOHN DRYDEN

Build Destroy
Truth is the foundation of all knowledge and the cement of all societies.
JOHN DRYDEN

Cement Foundation Knowledge Society Truth
Go miser go, for money sell your soul. Trade wares for wares and trudge from pole to pole, So others may say when you are dead and gone. See what a vast estate he left his son.
JOHN DRYDEN

Estate Himself Misery Money Sell Soul
To die for faction is a common evil, But to be hanged for nonsense is the devil.
JOHN DRYDEN

Common Death Devil Evil
When I consider life, ’tis all a cheat; Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit; Trust on, and think tomorrow will repay. Tomorrow’s falser than the former day.
JOHN DRYDEN

Cheat Day False Fools Life
Our souls sit close and silently within, And their own web from their own entrails spin; And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such, That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch.
JOHN DRYDEN

Eyes Feeling Ourselves Soul Tender Togetherness Touch
The trumpet’s loud clangor Excites us to arms.
JOHN DRYDEN

Excitement Loud
What precious drops are those, Which silently each other’s track pursue, Bright as young diamonds in their faint dew?
JOHN DRYDEN

Dew Precious Pursue Track Young
Much malice mingled with a little wit Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ.
JOHN DRYDEN

Infidelity Mysterious Thinking
Ill habits gather unseen degrees, as brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.
JOHN DRYDEN

Degree River Sea
Truth is the object of our understanding, as good is of our will; and the understanding can no more be delighted with a lie than the will can choose an apparent evil.
JOHN DRYDEN

Choice Delight Evil Lying Object Truth Understand
The scum that rises upmost, when the nation boils.
JOHN DRYDEN

Boil Nature Rise
Here lies my wife: here let her lie! Now she’s at rest, and so am I.
JOHN DRYDEN

Lying Myself Wife
Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave deserves the fair.
JOHN DRYDEN

Brave Despair Happiness
Dancing is the poetry of the foot.
JOHN DRYDEN

Dance Foot Poetry

Him of the western dome, whose weighty sense Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence.

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Him of the western dome, whose weighty sense Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence.

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