John Dryden

With ravished ears The monarch hears; Assumes the god, Affects the nod, And seems to shake the spheres.

Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair.

I have a soul that like an ample shield Can take in all, and verge enough for more.

This is the porcelain clay of humankind.

The true Amphitryon is the Amphitryon where we dine.

Whistling to keep myself from being afraid.

A knockdown argument: 'tis but a word and a blow.

She knows her man, and when you rant and swear, Can draw you to her with a single hair.

Indulge, and to thy genius freely give; For not to live at ease, is not to live. Death stalks behind thee, and each flying hour Does some loose remnant of thy life devour. Live, while thou liv'st; for death will make us all A name, a …

I well believe, thou wouldst be great as he; For every man's a fool to that degree: All wish the dire prerogative to kill; Ev'n they would have the power who want the will.

Look round the habitable world: how few Know their own good, or knowing it, pursue.

I am reading Jonson's verses to the memory of Shakespeare; an insolent, sparing, and invidious panegyric.

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

Possess your soul with patience.

Secret guilt by silence is betrayed.

T' abhor the makers, and their laws approve, Is to hate traitors and the treason love.

For present joys are more to flesh and blood Than a dull prospect of a distant good.

Jealousy, the jaundice of the soul.

War seldom enters but where wealth allures.

All have not the gift of martyrdom.

As long as words a different sense will bear, And each may be his own interpreter, Our airy faith will no foundation find; The word's a weathercock for every wind.

Too black for heav'n, and yet too white for hell.

And kind as kings upon their coronation day.

Reason to rule, mercy to forgive: The first is law, the last prerogative.