But loves a malady without a cure. – John Dryden
We lovd, and we lovd as long as we could
Til our love was lovd out in us both;
But our marriage is dead, when the pleasure has fled:
Twas pleasure that made it an oath. – John Dryden

But loves a malady without a cure. – John Dryden
We lovd, and we lovd as long as we could
Til our love was lovd out in us both;
But our marriage is dead, when the pleasure has fled:
Twas pleasure that made it an oath. – John Dryden
He invades authors like a monarch; and what would be theft in other poets is only victory in him. – John Dryden
Go miser go, for money sell your soul. Trade wares for wares and trudge from pole to pole, So others may say when you are dead and gone. See what a vast estate he left his son. – John Dryden