Date: 1693
"Needless was written law, where none opprest; / The law of man was written in his breast."
preview | full record— Dryden, John (1631-1700)
Date: 1693
"No suppliant crowds before the judge appeared; / No court erected yet, nor cause was heard; / But all was safe, for conscience was their guard."
preview | full record— Dryden, John (1631-1700)
Date: 1693
"Children, like tender Oziers, take the Bow, / And, as they first are fashion'd always grow."
preview | full record— Dryden, John (1631-1700) [Poem ascribed to]
Date: 1693
"The craving Wife, the force of Magick tries, / And Philters for th' unable Husband buys: / The Potion works not on the part design'd, / But turns his Brain, and stupifies his Mind. / The sotted Moon-Calf gapes, and staring on, / Sees his own Business by another done: / A long Oblivion, a benummi...
preview | full record— Dryden, John (1631-1700) [Poem ascribed to]
Date: 1693
"(Yet what smooth Sycophant by thee can gain? / When Lust it self strikes thy Flint-Heart in vain?)"
preview | full record— Dryden, John (1631-1700) [Poem ascribed to]
Date: 1693
"Those Senses lost, behold a new defeat; / The Soul, dislodging from another seat."
preview | full record— Dryden, John (1631-1700) [Poem ascribed to]
Date: 1693
"So Fancy paints, so does the Poet write, / When he wou'd work a Tempest to the height."
preview | full record— Dryden, John (1631-1700) [Poem ascribed to]
Date: 1693
"But why must those be thought to scape, that feel / Those Rods of Scorpions, and those Whips of Steel / Which Conscience shakes, when she with Rage controuls, / And spreads Amazing Terrors through their Souls?"
preview | full record— Dryden, John (1631-1700) [Poem ascribed to]
Date: 1693
"When once the hard-mouth'd Horse has got the Rein, / He's past thy Pow'r to stop; Young Phaeton, / By the Wild Coursers of his Fancy drawn, / From East to North, irregularly hurl'd, / First set on Fire himself, and then the World."
preview | full record— Dryden, John (1631-1700) [Poem ascribed to]
Date: 1693
"Why have I Learn'd, say'st thou, if thus confin'd, / I choak the Noble Vigour of my Mind? / Know, my wild Fig-Tree, which in Rocks is bred, / Will split the Quarry, and shoot out the Head, / Fine Fruits of Learning!"
preview | full record— Dryden, John (1631-1700)