The Works of John Dryden: Dramatic works

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Página 258 - ... tis all a cheat; Yet, fooled 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.
Página 312 - So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes, And made their bends adornings: at the helm A seeming mermaid steers: the silken tackle Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands, That yarely frame the office. From the barge A strange invisible perfume hits the sense Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast Her people out upon her ; and Antony, Enthroned i...
Página 311 - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water ; the poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them, the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
Página 397 - 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 ; And yet the Soul, shut up in her dark room, Viewing so clear abroad, at home sees nothing ; But, like a Mole in Earth...
Página 348 - ... soul; and then he starts out wide, And bounds into a vice, that bears him far From his first course, and plunges him in ills: But, when his danger makes him find his fault, Quick to observe, and full of sharp remorse, He censures eagerly his own misdeeds, Judging himself with malice to himself, And not forgiving what as man he did, Because his other parts are more than man.— He must not thus be lost.
Página 432 - And now to die each other's ; and, so dying, While hand in hand we walk in groves below, Whole troops of lovers' ghosts shall flock about us, And all the train be ours.
Página 312 - She lay, and leant her cheek upon her hand, And cast a look so languishingly sweet, As if, secure of all beholders...
Página 333 - ... that we do it for a poor subsistence ; but what can be urged in their defence, who, not having the vocation of poverty to scribble, out of mere wantonness take pains to make themselves ridiculous ? Horace was certainly in the right, where he said, that no man is satisfied "with his own condition.
Página 431 - We live both. Sit thee down, my Cleopatra: I'll make the most I can of life, to stay A moment more with thee.
Página 182 - But he has now another taste of wit; And, to confess a truth, though out of time, Grows weary of his long-loved mistress, Rhyme. Passion's too fierce to be in fetters bound, And Nature flies him like enchanted ground...

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