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Let Those Find Fault Whose Wit's So Very Small, They've Need To Show That They Can Think At All; Errors, Like Straws, Upon The Surface Flow; He Who Would Search For Pearls, Must Dive Below. Fops May Have Leave To Level All They Can; As Pigmies Would Be Glad To Lop A Man. Half-wits Are Fleas; So Little And So Light, We Scarce Could Know They Live, But That They Bite.

-John Dryden

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Let Those Find Fault

John Dryden

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Let Those Find Fault Whose Wit's So Very Small, They've Need To Show That They Can Think At All; Errors, Like Straws, Upon The Surface Flow; He Who Would Search For Pearls, Must Dive Below. Fops May Have Leave To Level All They Can; As Pigmies Would Be Glad To Lop A Man. Half-wits Are Fleas; So Little And So Light, We Scarce Could Know They Live, But That They Bite.

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I Learn To Pity Woes So Like My Own.

Or Hast Thou Known The World So Long In Vain?

The Soft Complaining Flute, In Dying Notes, Discovers The Woes Of Hopeless Lovers.

Time Glides With Undiscover'd Haste; The Future But A Length Behind The Past.

Tis Fate That Flings The Dice, And As She Flings Of Kings Makes Peasants, And Of Peasants Kings.

Trust Reposed In Noble Natures Obliges Them The More.

He Who Trusts Secrets To A Servant Makes Him His Master

Keeping Secrets

When The Sun Sets, Shadows, That Shew'd At Noon But Small, Appear Most Long And Terrible; So, When We Think Fate Hovers O'er Our Heads, Our Apprehensions Shoot Beyond All Bounds, Owls, Ravens, Crickets Seem The Watch Of Death, Nature's Worst Vermine Scare Her God-like Sons. Ecchoes The Very Leavings Of A Voice, Grow Babling Ghosts, And Call Us To Our Graves: Each Mole-hill Thought Swells To A Huge Olympus, While We Fantastick Dreamers Heave And Puff, And Sweat With An Imagination's Weight.

A Brave Man Scorns To Quarrel Once A Day; Like Hectors In At Every Petty Fray.

All, As They Say, That Glitters Is Not Gold.

The Glorious Lamp Of Heaven, The Radiant Sun, Is Nature's Eye.

My Whole Life Has Been A Golden Dream Of Love And Friendship.

Love And Friendship

Tomorrow Do Thy Worst, For I Have Lived Today: 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.

Good Sense And Good-nature Are Never Separated, Though The Ignorant World Has Thought Otherwise. Good-nature, By Which I Mean Beneficence And Candor, Is The Product Of Right Reason.

Freedom Which In No Other Land Will Thrive, Freedom An English Subject's Sole Prerogative.

Self-defense Is Nature's Eldest Law.

Secret Guilt Is By Silence Revealed.

Love Taught Him Shame, And Shame With Love At Strife Soon Taught The Sweet Civilities Of Life.

What I Have Left Is From My Native Spring; I've Still A Heart That Swells, In Scorn Of Fate, And Lifts Me To My Banks.

He Has Not Learned The First Lesson Of Life Who Does Not Every Day Surmount A Fear.

My Right Eye Itches, Some Good Luck Is Near.

Of All The Tyrannies On Human Kind The Worst Is That Which Persecutes The Mind.

If You Are For A Merry Jaunt, I Will Try, For Once, Who Can Foot It Farthest.

He Made All Countries Where He Came His Own.

Pains Of Love Be Sweeter Far Than All Other Pleasures Are.

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.

Could Swell The Soul To Rage, Or Kindle Soft Desire.

Shakespeare Was The Homer, Or Father Of Our Dramatic Poets;jonson Was Thevirgil, The Pattern Of Elaborate Writing; I Admire Him, But I Love Shakespeare.

The End Of Satire Is The Amendment Of Vices By Correction; And He Who Writes Honestly Is No More An Enemy To The Offender Than The Physician To The Patient When He Prescribes Harsh Remedies.

A Lively Faith Will Bear Aloft The Mind, And Leave The Luggage Of Good Works Behind.

To Draw True Beauty Shows A Master's Hand.

Affability, Mildness, Tenderness, And A Word Which I Would Fain Bring Back To Its Original Signification Of Virtue,--i Mean Good-nature,--are Of Daily Use; They Are The Bread Of Mankind And Staff Of Life.

Be Secret And Discreet; The Fairy Favors Are Lost When Not Concealed.

Time And Death Shall Depart And Say In Flying Love Has Found Out A Way To Live, By Dying.

The Wretched Have No Friends.

The Propriety Of Thoughts And Words, Which Are The Hidden Beauties Of A Play, Are But Confusedly Judged In The Vehemence Of Action.

Either Be Wholly Slaves Or Wholly Free.

A Man Is To Be Cheated Into Passion, But To Be Reasoned Into Truth.

Luxurious Kings Are To Their People Lost, They Live Like Drones, Upon The Public Cost.

And Love's The Noblest Frailty Of The Mind.

He Was The Man Who Of All Modern, And Perhaps Ancient Poets, Had The Largest And Most Comprehensive Soul. . . . He Was Naturally Learn'd; He Needed Not The Spectacles Of Books To Read Nature; He Looked Inwards, And Found Her There. . . . He Is Many Times Flat, Insipid; His Comic Wit Degenerating In To Clenches, His Serious Swelling Into Bombast. But He Is Always Great, When Some Occasion Is Presented To Him.

Welcome, Thou Kind Deceiver! Thou Best Of Thieves; Who, With An Easy Key, Dost Open Life, And, Unperceived By Us, Even Steal Us From Ourselves.

For All Have Not The Gift Of Martyrdom.

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.

Having Mourned Your Sin, For Outward Eden Lost, Find Paradise Within.

The Fates But Only Spin The Coarser Clue; The Finest Of The Wool Is Left For You.

Treason Is Greatest Where Trust Is Greatest.

The First Is The Law, The Last Prerogative.

Great Souls Forgive Not Injuries Till Time Has Put Their Enemies Within Their Power, That They May Show Forgiveness Is Their Own.

A Satirical Poet Is The Check Of The Laymen On Bad Priests.

From Harmony, From Heav'nly Harmony. This Universal Frame Began.

Genius Must Be Born, And Never Can Be Taught.

And Nobler Is A Limited Command, Given By The Love Of All Your Native Land, Than A Successive Title, Long And Dark, Drawn From The Mouldy Rolls Of Noah's Ark.

It Is A Madness To Make Fortune The Mistress Of Events, Because In Herself She Is Nothing, Can Rule Nothing, But Is Ruled By Prudence.

I Am Reading Jonson's Verses To The Memory Of Shakespeare; An Insolent, Sparing, And Invidious Panegyric.

He Is The Very Janus Of Poets; He Wears Almost Everywhere Two Faces; And You Have Scarce Begun To Admire The One, Ere You Despise The Other.

God Never Made His Work For Man To Mend.

One Of The Greatest, Most Noble, And Most Sublime Poems Which Either This Age Or Nation Has Produced.

So Over Violent, Or Over Civil That Every Man With Him Was God Or Devil.

Inspire The Vocal Brass, Inspire; The World Is Past Its Infant Age: Arms And Honour, Arms And Honour, Set The Martial Mind On Fire, And Kindle Manly Rage.

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.

In Pious Times, Ere Priest-craft Did Begin, Before Polygamy Was Made A Sin; When Man, On Many, Multipli'd His Kind, Ere One To One Was Cursedly Confin'd: When Nature Prompted, And No Law Deni'd Promiscuous Use Of Concubine And Bride; Then, Israel's Monarch, After Heaven's Own Heart, His Vigorous Warmth Did Variously Impart To Wives And Slaves: And, Wide As His Command, Scatter'd His Maker's Image Through The Land.

Words Are But Pictures Of Our Thoughts.

Genius Must Be Born, It Can't Be Taught.

He Wants Worth Who Dares Not Praise A Foe.

Order Is The Greatest Grace.

Old Age Creeps On Us Ere We Think It Nigh.

A Lazy Frost, A Numbness Of The Mind.

Pride - Lord Of Human Kind

Revenge, Revenge, Timotheus Cries, See The Furies Arise!

The People Have A Right Supreme To Make Their Kings, For Kings Are Made For Them. All Empire Is No More Than Pow'r In Trust, Which When Resum'd, Can Be No Longer Just. Successionm For The General Good Design'd, In Its Own Wrong A Nation Cannot Bind.

Death In Itself Is Nothing; But We Fear To Be We Know Not What, We Know Not Where.

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.

Such Subtle Covenants Shall Be Made,till Peace It Self Is War In Masquerade.

He Who Trusts A Secret To His Servant Makes His Own Man His Master.

We Must Beat The Iron While It Is Hot, But We May Polish It At Leisure.

We By Art Unteach What Nature Taught.

War Seldom Enters But Where Wealth Allures.

Dead Men Tell No Tales.

Virgil, Above All Poets, Had A Stock Which I May Call Almost Inexhaustible, Of Figurative, Elegant, And Sounding Words.

Bold Knaves Thrive Without One Grain Of Sense, But Good Men Starve For Want Of Impudence.

If Passion Rules, How Weak Does Reason Prove!

Imagination In A Poet Is A Faculty So Wild And Lawless That, Like A High Ranging Spaniel, It Must Have Clogs Tied To It, Lest It Outrun The Judgment. The Great Easiness Of Blank Verse Renders The Poet Too Luxuriant. He Is Tempted To Say Many Things Which Might Better Be Omitted, Or, At Least Shut Up In Fewer Words.

Errors Like Straws Upon The Surface Flow, Who Would Search For Pearls To Be Grateful For Often Must Dive Below.

The People's Prayer, The Glad Diviner's Theme, The Young Men's Vision, And The Old Men's Dream!

Ye Moon And Stars, Bear Witness To The Truth.

Take The Good The Gods Provide Thee.

Music Is Inarticulate Poesy.

He Who Proposes To Be An Author Should First Be A Student.

And, Dying, Bless The Hand That Gave The Blow.

Presence Of Mind And Courage In Distress, Are More Than Arrives To Procure Success?

Presence Of Mind

Be Slow To Resolve, But Quick In Performance.

I Strongly Wish For What I Faintly Hope; Like The Daydreams Of Melancholy Men, I Think And Think In Things Impossible, Yet Love To Wander In That Golden Maze.

Ev'n Wit's A Burthen, When It Talks Too Long.

He Trudged Along Unknowing What He Sought, And Whistled As He Went, For Want Of Thought.

No King Nor Nation One Moment Can Retard The Appointed Hour.

We First Make Our Habits, And Then Our Habits Make Us.

Thou Strong Seducer, Opportunity!

…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

O Freedom, First Delight Of Human Kind!

Beauty Is Nothing Else But A Just Accord And Mutual Harmony Of The Members, Animated By A Healthful Constitution.

Murder May Pass Unpunishd For A Time, But Tardy Justice Will Oertake The Crime.

When I Consider Life, 't Is All A Cheat. Yet Fool'd With Hope, Men Favour The Deceit; 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. Strange Cozenage! None Would Live Past Years Again, Yet All Hope Pleasure In What Yet Remain; And From The Dregs Of Life Think To Receive What The First Sprightly Running Could Not Give.

Let Grace And Goodness Be The Principal Loadstone Of Thy Affections.

Death Ends Our Woes, And The Kind Grave Shuts Up The Mournful Scene.

When I Consider Life, 'tis All A Cheat; Yet, Fooled With Hope, Men Favour The Deceit; Trust On, And Think Tomorrow Will Repay. Tomorrow's Falser Than The Former Day.

For Those Whom God To Ruin Has Design'd, He Fits For Fate, And First Destroys Their Mind.

Light Sufferings Give Us Leisure To Complain.

Love Is A Child That Talks In Broken Language, Yet Then He Speaks Most Plain.

Death Only This Mysterious Truth Unfolds, The Mighty Soul How Small A Body Holds.

Whatever Is, Is In Its Causes Just.

For Granting We Have Sinned, And That The Offence Of Man Is Made Against Omnipotence, Some Price That Bears Proportion Must Be Paid, And Infinite With Infinite Be Weighed.

Humility And Resignation Are Our Prime Virtues.

Good Sense And Good Nature Are Never Separated; And Good Nature Is The Product Of Right Reason.

The Fool Of Nature Stood With Stupid Eyes And Gaping Mouth, That Testified Surprise.

Swift Was The Race, But Short The Time To Run.

An Hour Will Come, With Pleasure To Relate Your Sorrows Past, As Benefits Of Fate.

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.

Nothing To Build, And All Things To Destroy.

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.

They, Who Would Combat General Authority With Particular Opinion, Must First Establish Themselves A Reputation Of Understanding Better Than Other Men.

Truth Is The Object Of Our Understanding, As Good Is Of Our Will; And The Understanding Can No More Be Delighted With A Lie Than The Will Can Choose An Apparent Evil.

Pleasure Never Comes Sincere To Man; But Lent By Heaven Upon Hard Usury.

When Misfortune Is Asleep, Let No One Wake Her.

Love Is Love's Reward.

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.

Seas Are The Fields Of Combat For The Winds; But When They Sweep Along Some Flowery Coast, Their Wings Move Mildly, And Their Rage Is Lost.

Men Met Each Other With Erected Look, The Steps Were Higher That They Took; Friends To Congratulate Their Friends Made Haste, And Long Inveterate Foes Saluted As They Pass'd.

Set All Things In Their Own Peculiar Place, And Know That Order Is The Greatest Grace.

The Jews, A Headstrong, Moody, Murmuring Race.

If All The World Be Worth Thy Winning. / Think, Oh Think It Worth Enjoying: / Lovely Thaïs Sits Beside Thee, / Take The Good The Gods Provide Thee.

Mighty Things From Small Beginnings Grow.

For Art May Err, But Nature Cannot Miss.

Since Every Man Who Lives Is Born To Die, And None Can Boast Sincere Felicity, With Equal Mind, What Happens, Let Us Bear, Nor Joy Nor Grieve Too Much For Things Beyond Our Care. Like Pilgrims To The' Appointed Place We Tend; The World's An Inn, And Death The Journey's End.

They Think Too Little Who Talk Too Much.

There Is A Proud Modesty In Merit.

Here Lies My Wife: Here Let Her Lie! Now She's At Rest, And So Am I.

Wit Will Shine Through The Harsh Cadence Of A Rugged Line.

Truth Is Never To Be Expected From Authors Whose Understanding Is Warped With Enthusiasm.

Every Language Is So Full Of Its Own Proprieties That What Is Beautiful In One Is Often Barbarous, Nay, Sometimes Nonsense, In Another.

Then We Upon Our Globe's Last Verge Shall Go, And View The Ocean Leaning On The Sky: From Thence Our Rolling Neighbours We Shall Know, And On The Lunar World Securely Pry.

Thou Tyrant, Tyrant Jealousy, Thou Tyrant Of The Mind!

To Breed Up The Son To Common Sense Is Evermore The Parent's Least Expense.

As One That Neither Seeks, Nor Shuns His Foe.

Democracy Is Essentially Anti-authoritarian--that Is, It Not Only Demands The Right But Imposes The Responsibility Of Thinking For Ourselves.

Nor Is The People's Judgment Always True: The Most May Err As Grossly As The Few.

Democracies Have

And Plenty Makes Us Poor.

How Happy The Lover, How Easy His Chain, How Pleasing His Pain, How Sweet To Discover He Sighs Not In Vain.

Griefs Assured Are Felt Before They Come.

Like Pilgrims To Th' Appointed Place We Tend; The World's An Inn, And Death The Journey's End.

Possess Your Soul With Patience.

My Hands Are Guilty, But My Heart Is Free.

Ill News Is Wing'd With Fate, And Flies Apace.

War Is The Trade Of Kings.

Virgil And Horace [were] The Severest Writers Of The Severest Age.

Much Malice Mingled With A Little Wit Perhaps May Censure This Mysterious Writ.

When Bounteous Autumn Rears Her Head, He Joys To Pull The Ripened Pear.

She Feared No Danger, For She Knew No Sin.

Only Man Clogs His Happiness With Care, Destroying What Is With Thoughts Of What May Be.

Anxious Thoughts

Virtue Without Success Is A Fair Picture Shown By An Ill Light; But Lucky Men Are Favorites Of Heaven; All Own The Chief, When Fortune Owns The Cause.

Softly Sweet, In Lydian Measures, Soon He Sooth'd His Soul To Pleasures. War, He Sung, Is Toil And Trouble; Honour But An Empty Bubble; Never Ending, Still Beginning, Fighting Still, And Still Destroying. If All The World Be Worth The Winning, Think, Oh Think It Worth Enjoying: Lovely Thais Sits Beside Thee, Take The Good The Gods Provide Thee.

They First Condemn That First Advised The Ill.

All Heiresses Are Beautiful.

Reason Saw Not, Till Faith Sprung The Light.

None, None Descends Into Himself, To Find The Secret Imperfections Of His Mind: But Every One Is Eagle-ey'd To See Another's Faults, And His Deformity.

I Trade Both With The Living And The Dead, For The Enrichment Of Our Native Language.

Native Language

[t]he Famous Rules Which The French Call, Des Trois Unitez , Or, The Three Unities, Which Ought To Be Observ'd In Every Regular Play; Namely, Of Time, Place, And Action.

Not Heav'n Itself Upon The Past Has Pow'r; But What Has Been, Has Been, And I Have Had My Hour.

It Is Almost Impossible To Translate Verbally And Well At The Same Time; For The Latin (a Most Severe And Compendious Language) Often Expresses That In One Word Which Either The Barbarity Or The Narrowness Of Modern Tongues Cannot Supply In More. ...but Since Every Language Is So Full Of Its Own Proprieties That What Is Beautiful In One Is Often Barbarous, Nay, Sometimes Nonsense, In Another, It Would Be Unreasonable To Limit A Translator To The Narrow Compass Of His Author's Words; It Is Enough If He Choose Out Some Expression Which Does Not Vitiate The Sense.

Chaucer Followed Nature Everywhere, But Was Never So Bold To Go Beyond Her.

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.

Thus All Below Is Strength, And All Above Is Grace.

But Wild Ambition Loves To Slide, Not Stand, And Fortune's Ice Prefers To Virtue's Land.

Zeal, The Blind Conductor Of The Will.

The Fortitude Of A Christian Consists In Patience, Not In Enterprises Which The Poets Call Heroic, And Which Are Commonly The Effects Of Interest, Pride And Worldly Honor.

When He Spoke, What Tender Words He Used! So Softly, That Like Flakes Of Feathered Snow, They Melted As They Fell.

A Fiery Soul, Which Working Out Its Way, Fretted The Pygmy-body To Decay: And O'er-informed The Tenement Of Clay. A Daring Pilot In Extremity; Pleased With The Danger, When The Waves Went High He Sought The Storms...

They Live Too Long Who Happiness Outlive.

And That One Hunting, Which The Devil Design'd For One Fair Female, Lost Him Half The Kind.

As Poetry Is The Harmony Of Words, So Music Is That Of Notes.

Criticism, As It Was First Instituted By Aristotle, Was Meant As A Standard Of Judging Well; The Chiefest Part Of Which Is To Observe Those Excellencies Which Delight A Reasonable Reader.

Desire Of Greatness Is A Godlike Sin.

If Thou Dost Still Retain The Same Ill Habits, The Same Follies, Too, Still Thou Art Bound To Vice, And Still A Slave.

My Heart's So Full Of Joy, That I Shall Do Some Wild Extravagance Of Love In Public; And The Foolish World, Which Knows Not Tenderness, Will Think Me Mad.

How Easy 'tis, When Destiny Proves Kind, With Full-spread Sails To Run Before The Wind!

Farewell, Too Little, And Too Lately Known, Whom I Began To Think And Call My Own.

The Unhappy Man, Who Once Has Trail'd A Pen, Lives Not To Please Himself, But Other Men; Is Always Drudging, Wastes His Life And Blood, Yet Only Eats And Drinks What You Think Good.

There's A Proud Modesty In Merit; Averse From Asking, And Resolved To Pay Ten Times The Gifts It Asks.

The Bravest Men Are Subject Most To Chance.

Home Is The Sacred Refuge Of Our Life.

Sweet Is Pleasure After Pain.

Nature Meant Me A Wife, A Silly, Harmless, Household Dove, Fond Without Art, And Kind Without Deceit.

Kings Fight For Empires, Madmen For Applause.

Ill Fortune Seldom Comes Alone.

Plots, True Or False, Are Necessary Things, To Raise Up Commonwealths And Ruin Kings.

A Farce Is That In Poetry Which Grotesque (caricature) Is In Painting. The Persons And Actions Of A Farce Are All Unnatural, And The Manners False, That Is, Inconsistent With The Characters Of Mankind; And Grotesque Painting Is The Just Resemblance Of This.

All Things Are Subject To Decay And When Fate Summons, Monarchs Must Obey.

Resolved To Ruin Or To Rule The State.

Revealed Religion First Informed Thy Sight, And Reason Saw Not Till Faith Sprung To Light.

What Judgment I Had Increases Rather Than Diminishes; And Thoughts, Such As They Are, Come Crowding In So Fast Upon Me, That My Only Difficulty Is To Choose Or Reject; To Run Them Into Verse Or To Give Them The Other Harmony Of Prose.

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