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Death ends our woes, and the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene.

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
Death
Ends
Mournful
Kind
Woes
Shuts
Woe
Grave
Graves
Scene

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An ugly woman in a rich habit set out with jewels nothing can become.
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At home the hateful names of parties cease, And factious souls are wearied into peace.
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He is a perpetual fountain of good sense.
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Virtue in distress, and vice in triumph make atheists of mankind.
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Desire of power, on earth a vicious weed, Yet, sprung from high, is of celestial seed: In God 'tisglory and when men aspire, 'Tis but a spark too much of heavenly fire.
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A knock-down argument 'tis but a word and a blow.
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Ever a glutton, at another's cost, But in whose kitchen dwells perpetual frost.
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He made all countries where he came his own.
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Silence in times of suffering is the best.
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My right eye itches, some good luck is near.
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My heart's so full of joy, That I shall do some wild extravagance Of love in public and the foolish world, Which knows not tenderness, will think me mad.
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None but the brave deserve the fair.
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Even kings but play and when their part is done, some other, worse or better, mounts the throne.
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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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But when to sin our biased nature leans, The careful Devil is still at hand with means And providently pimps for ill desires.
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War is a trade of kings.
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None are so busy as the fool and the knave.
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Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures. War, he sung, is toil and trouble Honour but an empty bubble Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying. If all the world be worth the winning, Think, oh think it worth enjoying: Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee.
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