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An hour will come, with pleasure to relate Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate.
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
Fate
Pleasure
Hours
Sorrows
Past
Relate
Come
Hour
Benefits
Sorrow
More quotes by John Dryden
A man is to be cheated into passion, but to be reasoned into truth.
John Dryden
Death ends our woes, and the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene.
John Dryden
Kings fight for empires, madmen for applause.
John Dryden
Maintain your post: That's all the fame you need For 'tis impossible you should proceed.
John Dryden
For Art may err, but Nature cannot miss.
John Dryden
Ev'n wit's a burthen, when it talks too long.
John Dryden
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.
John Dryden
Railing and praising were his usual themes and both showed his judgment in extremes. Either over violent or over civil, so everyone to him was either god or devil.
John Dryden
Good Heaven, whose darling attribute we find is boundless grace, and mercy to mankind, abhors the cruel.
John Dryden
Love and Time with reverence use, Treat them like a parting friend: Nor the golden gifts refuse Which in youth sincere they send: For each year their price is more, And they less simple than before.
John Dryden
Reason to rule, mercy to forgive: The first is law, the last prerogative. Life is an adventure in forgiveness.
John Dryden
If one must be rejected, one succeed, make him my lord within whose faithful breast is fixed my image, and who loves me best.
John Dryden
Fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods, and wing their hasty flight to happier lands.
John Dryden
For thee, sweet month the groves green liveries wear. If not the first, the fairest of the year For thee the Graces lead the dancing hours, And Nature's ready pencil paints the flowers. When thy short reign is past, the feverish sun The sultry tropic fears, and moves more slowly on.
John Dryden
I saw myself the lambent easy light Gild the brown horror, and dispel the night.
John Dryden
Not sharp revenge, nor hell itself can find, A fiercer torment than a guilty mind, Which day and night doth dreadfully accuse, Condemns the wretch, and still the charge renews.
John Dryden
My love's a noble madness.
John Dryden
Whatever is, is in its causes just.
John Dryden
The blushing beauties of a modest maid.
John Dryden
My right eye itches, some good luck is near.
John Dryden
