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Ev'n wit's a burthen, when it talks too long.

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
Burthen
Talks
Wit
Long

More quotes by John Dryden

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A narrow mind begets obstinacy we do not easily believe what we cannot see.
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Let Fortune empty her whole quiver on me, I have a soul that, like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more Fate was not mine, nor am I Fate's: Souls know no conquerors.
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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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Pleasure never comes sincere to man but lent by heaven upon hard usury.
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Farewell, too little, and too lately known, Whom I began to think and call my own.
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Long pains, with use of bearing, are half eased.
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Wit will shine Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line.
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Fortune's unjust she ruins oft the brave, and him who should be victor, makes the slave.
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From plots and treasons Heaven preserve my years, But save me most from my petitioners. Unsatiate as the barren womb or grave God cannot grant so much as they can crave.
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For danger levels man and brute And all are fellows in their need.
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A knock-down argument 'tis but a word and a blow.
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To so perverse a sex all grace is vain.
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The trumpet's loud clangor Excites us to arms.
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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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not judging truth to be in nature better than falsehood, but setting a value upon both according to interest.
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Rhyme is the rock on which thou art to wreck.
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Here lies my wife: here let her lie! Now she's at rest, and so am I.
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Deathless laurel is the victor's due.
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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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Kings fight for empires, madmen for applause.
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