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An horrid stillness first invades the ear,And in that silence we the tempest fear.
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John Dryden |
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Their heavenly harps a lower strain began, and in soft music mourn the fall of man.
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John Dryden |
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Music] is inarticulate poesy.
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John Dryden |
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Pains of love be sweeter far Than all other pleasures are.
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John Dryden |
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Death in itself is nothing; but we fearTo be we know not what, we know not where.
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John Dryden |
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'T is not for nothing that we life pursue;It pays our hopes with something still that's new.
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John Dryden |
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A man is to be cheated into passion, but to be reasoned into truth.
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John Dryden |
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O gracious God! how far have weProfaned thy heavenly gift of poesy!
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John Dryden |
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And torture one poor word ten thousand ways.
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John Dryden |
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This is the porcelain clay of humankind.
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John Dryden |
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I have a soul that like an ample shieldCan take in all, and verge enough for more.
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John Dryden |
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A knockdown argument: 'tis but a word and a blow.
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John Dryden |
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Whistling to keep myself from being afraid.
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John Dryden |
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The true Amphitryon is the Amphitryon where we dine.
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John Dryden |
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Truth is the foundation of all knowledge, and the cement of all societies.
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John Dryden |
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Genius must be born, and never can be taught.
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John Dryden |
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Be kind to my remains; and oh defend,Against your judgment, your departed friend!
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John Dryden |
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Look round the habitable world: how fewKnow their own good, or knowing it, pursue.
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John Dryden |
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Words, once my stock, are wanting to commendSo great a poet and so good a friend.
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John Dryden |
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Lord of yourself, uncumbered with a wife.
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John Dryden |
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Ill habits gather by unseen degrees -- As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.
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John Dryden |
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He was exhaled; his great Creator drewHis spirit, as the sun the morning dew.
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John Dryden |
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Here lies my wife:here let her lie!Now she's at rest, and so am I.
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John Dryden |
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Forgiveness to the injured does belong;But they ne'er pardon who have done the wrong.
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John Dryden |
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Fame then was cheap, and the first comer sped;And they have kept it since by being dead.
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John Dryden |
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A brave man scorns to quarrel once a day;Like Hectors in at every petty fray.
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John Dryden |
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The wretched have no friends.
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John Dryden |
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With how much ease believe we what we wish!
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John Dryden |
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Whatever is, is in its causes just.
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John Dryden |
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His hair just grizzled,As in a green old age.
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John Dryden |
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She, though in full-blown flower of glorious beauty,Grows cold even in the summer of her age.
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John Dryden |
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There is a pleasure sureIn being mad which none but madmen know.
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John Dryden |
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Lord of humankind.
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John Dryden |
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Second thoughts, they say, are best.
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John Dryden |
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He's a sure card.
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John Dryden |
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They say everything in the world is good for something.
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John Dryden |
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Whate'er he did was done with so much ease,In him alone 't was natural to please.
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John Dryden |
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In friendship false, implacable in hate,Resolved to ruin or to rule the state.
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John Dryden |
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Behold him setting in his western skies,The shadows lengthening as the vapours rise.
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John Dryden |
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His courage foes, his friends his truth proclaim.
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John Dryden |
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All empire is no more than power in trust.
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John Dryden |
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Better one suffer, than a nation grieve.
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John Dryden |
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But far more numerous was the herd of such,Who think too little, and who talk too much.
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John Dryden |
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Thus in a pageant-show a plot is made;And peace itself is war in masquerade.
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John Dryden |