John Dryden Quotes
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War is the trade of Kings.
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Plots, true or false, are necessary things,To raise up commonwealths and ruin kings.
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The sword within the scabbard keep,And let mankind agree.
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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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Happy the man, and happy he alone, he who can call today his own; he who, secure within, can say, tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.
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Be kind to my remains; and oh defend,Against your judgment, your departed friend!
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Fool, not to know that love endures no tie,And Jove but laughs at lovers' perjury.
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Sound the trumpets; beat the drums...Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes.
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Of ancient race by birth, but nobler yetIn his own worth.
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The Famous Rules which the French call, Des Trois Unités, or, The Three Unities, which ought to be observ'd in every Regular Play; namely, of Time, Place, and Action.
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And kind as kings upon their coronation day.
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It is madness to make fortune the mistress of events, because by herself she is nothing and is ruled by prudence.
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Only man clogs his happiness with care, destroying what is with thoughts of what may be.
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Lord of yourself, uncumbered with a wife.
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What passions cannot music raise or quell?
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He trudged along unknowing what he sought,And whistled as he went, for want of thought.
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Let grace and goodness be the principal loadstone of thy affections. For love which hath ends, will have an end; whereas that which is founded on true virtue, will always continue.
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Him of the western dome, whose weighty senseFlows in fit words and heavenly eloquence.
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I have found, by trial, Homer a more pleasing task than Virgil (though I say not the translation will be less laborious); for the Grecian is more according to my genius, than the Latin poet.
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And threat'ning France, plac'd like a painted Jove,Kept idle thunder in his lifted hand.
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She feared no danger, for she knew no sin.
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A brave man scorns to quarrel once a day;Like Hectors in at every petty fray.
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Happy who in his verse can gently steerFrom grave to light, from pleasant to severe.
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The soft complaining flute,In dying notes, discoversThe woes of hopeless lovers.