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The winds that never moderation knew, Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew Or out of breath with joy, could not enlarge Their straighten'd lungs or conscious of their charge.
John Dryden
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John Dryden
Age: 68 †
Born: 1631
Born: August 7
Died: 1700
Died: May 12
Hymnwriter
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Aldwincle
Northamptonshire
Wind
Lungs
Joy
Moderation
Knew
Charge
Much
Breath
Faintly
Never
Breaths
Straighten
Blow
Enlarge
Conscious
Blew
Afraid
Winds
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Be fair, or foul, or rain, or shine, The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine. Not heaven itself upon the past has power But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
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Every language is so full of its own proprieties that what is beautiful in one is often barbarous, nay, sometimes nonsense, in another.
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Farewell, too little, and too lately known, Whom I began to think and call my own.
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Dreams are but interludes, which fancy makes When monarch reason sleeps, this mimic wakes.
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The true Amphitryon is the Amphitryon where we dine.
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Humility and resignation are our prime virtues.
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What passion cannot music raise and quell!
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Plots, true or false, are necessary things, To raise up commonwealths and ruin kings.
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Rhyme is the rock on which thou art to wreck.
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Pleasure never comes sincere to man but lent by heaven upon hard usury.
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Forgiveness to the injured does belong but they ne'er pardon who have done wrong.
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New vows to plight, and plighted vows to break.
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