But loves a malady without a cure. – John Dryden
So over violent, or over civil that every man with him was God or Devil. – John Dryden
But loves a malady without a cure. – John Dryden
So over violent, or over civil that every man with him was God or Devil. – John Dryden
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. – John Dryden
He invades authors like a monarch; and what would be theft in other poets is only victory in him. – John Dryden