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The secret pleasure of a generous act Is the great mind's great bribe.
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
Mind
Bribe
Generosity
Generous
Pleasure
Secret
Great
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Hushed as midnight silence.
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Forgiveness to the injured does belong but they ne'er pardon who have done wrong.
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The longest tyranny that ever sway'd Was that wherein our ancestors betray'd Their free-born reason to the Stagirite [Aristotle], And made his torch their universal light. So truth, while only one suppli'd the state, Grew scarce, and dear, and yet sophisticate.
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As one that neither seeks, nor shuns his foe.
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If passion rules, how weak does reason prove!
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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.
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He who would pry behind the scenes oft sees a counterfeit.
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He made all countries where he came his own.
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Rhyme is the rock on which thou art to wreck.
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How happy the lover, How easy his chain, How pleasing his pain, How sweet to discover He sighs not in vain.
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Time and death shall depart and say in flying Love has found out a way to live, by dying.
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Pleasure never comes sincere to man but lent by heaven upon hard usury.
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All habits gather by unseen degrees.
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Love either finds equality or makes it.
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Ever a glutton, at another's cost, But in whose kitchen dwells perpetual frost.
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I have a soul that like an ample shield Can take in all, and verge enough for more.
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But how can finite grasp Infinity?
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All empire is no more than power in trust.
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A brave man scorns to quarrel once a day Like Hectors in at every petty fray.
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