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Jealousy's a proof of love, But 'tis a weak and unavailing medicine It puts out the disease and makes it show, But has no power to cure.
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
Show
Jealousy
Makes
Cure
Shows
Cures
Power
Puts
Love
Proof
Medicine
Weak
Disease
Unavailing
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Humility and resignation are our prime virtues.
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The gods, (if gods to goodness are inclined If acts of mercy touch their heavenly mind), And, more than all the gods, your generous heart, Conscious of worth, requite its own desert!
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The end of satire is the amendment of vices by correction and he who writes honestly is no more an enemy to the offender than the physician to the patient when he prescribes harsh remedies.
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Hushed as midnight silence.
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Imitation pleases, because it affords matter for inquiring into the truth or falsehood of imitation, by comparing its likeness or unlikeness with the original.
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So poetry, which is in Oxford made An art, in London only is a trade.
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At home the hateful names of parties cease, And factious souls are wearied into peace.
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Better to hunt in fields, for health unbought, Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught, The wise, for cure, on exercise depend God never made his work for man to mend.
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Death in itself is nothing but we fear to be we know not what, we know not where.
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Youth, beauty, graceful action seldom fail: But common interest always will prevail And pity never ceases to be shown To him who makes the people's wrongs his own.
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Blown roses hold their sweetness to the last.
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Drinking is the soldier's pleasure.
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The people have a right supreme To make their kings, for Kings are made for them. All Empire is no more than Pow'r in Trust, Which when resum'd, can be no longer just. Successionm for the general good design'd, In its own wrong a Nation cannot bind.
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Welcome, thou kind deceiver! Thou best of thieves who, with an easy key, Dost open life, and, unperceived by us, Even steal us from ourselves.
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And that one hunting, which the Devil design'd For one fair female, lost him half the kind.
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