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Bets at first were fool-traps, where the wise like spiders lay in ambush for the flies.
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
Gambling
Lays
Fool
Wise
Ambush
Firsts
Bets
First
Spiders
Like
Flies
Traps
More quotes by John Dryden
I am as free as nature first made man, Ere the base laws of servitude began, When wild in woods the noble savage ran.
John Dryden
We first make our habits, and then our habits make us.
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An hour will come, with pleasure to relate Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate.
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Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way: Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on, And see the dangers that we cannot shun.
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Love is a child that talks in broken language, yet then he speaks most plain.
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Ever a glutton, at another's cost, But in whose kitchen dwells perpetual frost.
John Dryden
And that one hunting, which the Devil design'd For one fair female, lost him half the kind.
John Dryden
Of all the tyrannies on human kind the worst is that which persecutes the mind.
John Dryden
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.
John Dryden
One cannot say he wanted wit, but rather that he was frugal of it.
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He is a perpetual fountain of good sense.
John Dryden
Virgil, above all poets, had a stock which I may call almost inexhaustible, of figurative, elegant, and sounding words.
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Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave deserves the fair.
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I feel my sinews slackened with the fright, and a cold sweat trills down all over my limbs, as if I were dissolving into water.
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The scum that rises upmost, when the nation boils.
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Farewell, too little, and too lately known, Whom I began to think and call my own.
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My love's a noble madness.
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But how can finite grasp Infinity?
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An horrible stillness first invades our ear, And in that silence we the tempest fear.
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A good conscience is a port which is landlocked on every side, where no winds can possibly invade. There a man may not only see his own image, but that of his Maker, clearly reflected from the undisturbed waters.
John Dryden
