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A brave man scorns to quarrel once a day Like Hectors in at every petty fray.
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
Scorn
Petty
Brave
Every
Scorns
Men
Hector
Like
Fray
Quarrel
Quarrels
More quotes by John Dryden
Secret guilt is by silence revealed.
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He with a graceful pride, While his rider every hand survey'd, Sprung loose, and flew into an escapade Not moving forward, yet with every bound Pressing, and seeming still to quit his ground.
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She feared no danger, for she knew no sin.
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The poorest of the sex have still an itch To know their fortunes, equal to the rich. The dairy-maid inquires, if she shall take The trusty tailor, and the cook forsake.
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If you have lived, take thankfully the past. Make, as you can, the sweet remembrance last.
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Reason to rule, mercy to forgive: The first is law, the last prerogative. Life is an adventure in forgiveness.
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Parting is worse than death it is death of love!
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Our souls sit close and silently within, And their own web from their own entrails spin And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such, That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch.
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Bacchus ever fair and young, Drinking joys did first ordain. Bachus's blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure, Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure- Sweet is pleasure after pain.
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Not to ask is not be denied.
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Be fair, or foul, or rain, or shine, The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine. Not heaven itself upon the past has power But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
John Dryden
Dead men tell no tales.
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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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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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…So when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And Music shall untune the sky
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When Misfortune is asleep, let no one wake her.
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A coward is the kindest animal 'Tis the most forgiving creature in a fight.
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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
Order is the greatest grace.
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Men are but children of a larger growth, Our appetites as apt to change as theirs, And full as craving too, and full as vain.
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