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Restless at home, and ever prone to range.

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
Prone
Restless
Range
Travel
Home
Ever

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Let cheerfulness on happy fortune wait.
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Ev'n wit's a burthen, when it talks too long.
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If the faults of men in orders are only to be judged among themselves, they are all in some sort parties for, since they say the honour of their order is concerned in every member of it, how can we be sure that they will be impartial judges?
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When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.
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Anger will never disappear so long as thoughts of resentment are cherished in the mind. Anger will disappear just as soon as thoughts of resentment are forgotten.
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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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What passion cannot music raise and quell!
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When I consider life, it is all a cheat. Yet fooled with hope, people favor this deceit.
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An hour will come, with pleasure to relate Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate.
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Trust on and think To-morrow will repay To-morrow's falser than the former day Lies worse and while it says, we shall be blest With some new Joys, cuts off what we possest.
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With odorous oil thy head and hair are sleek And then thou kemb'st the tuzzes on thy cheek: Of these, my barbers take a costly care.
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Bets at first were fool-traps, where the wise like spiders lay in ambush for the flies.
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The trumpet's loud clangor Excites us to arms.
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He made all countries where he came his own.
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As when the dove returning bore the mark Of earth restored to the long labouring ark The relics of mankind, secure at rest, Oped every window to receive the guest, And the fair bearer of the message bless'd.
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Tis Fate that flings the dice, And as she flings Of kings makes peasants, And of peasants kings.
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Good sense and good nature are never separated and good nature is the product of right reason.
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All habits gather by unseen degrees.
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Even kings but play and when their part is done, some other, worse or better, mounts the throne.
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How easy 'tis, when Destiny proves kind, With full-spread sails to run before the wind!
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