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Here lies my wife: here let her lie! Now she's at rest, and so am I.

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
Epitaph
Sex
Lies
Rest
Wife
Lying

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Bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense, But good men starve for want of impudence.
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Government itself at length must fall To nature's state, where all have right to all.
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And write whatever Time shall bring to pass With pens of adamant on plates of brass.
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Parting is worse than death it is death of love!
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[T]he Famous Rules which the French call, Des Trois Unitez , or, The Three Unities, which ought to be observ'd in every Regular Play namely, of Time, Place, and Action.
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Heroic poetry has ever been esteemed the greatest work of human nature.
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Having mourned your sin, for outward Eden lost, find paradise within.
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How easy 'tis, when Destiny proves kind, With full-spread sails to run before the wind!
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Bets at first were fool-traps, where the wise like spiders lay in ambush for the flies.
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Want is a bitter and a hateful good, Because its virtues are not understood Yet many things, impossible to thought, Have been by need to full perfection brought. The daring of the soul proceeds from thence, Sharpness of wit, and active diligence Prudence at once, and fortitude it gives And, if in patience taken, mends our lives.
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He who would pry behind the scenes oft sees a counterfeit.
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Imagination in a poet is a faculty so wild and lawless that, like a high ranging spaniel, it must have clogs tied to it, lest it outrun the judgment. The great easiness of blank verse renders the poet too luxuriant. He is tempted to say many things which might better be omitted, or, at least shut up in fewer words.
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He wants worth who dares not praise a foe.
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Ill news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace.
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For truth has such a face and such a mien, as to be loved needs only to be seen.
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