John Dryden

Beware the fury of a patient man.

Beware the fury of a patient man.

And all to leave what with his toil he won,
To that unfeather'd two-legged thing, a son.

And all to leave what with his toil he won,
To that unfeather'd two-legged thing, a son.

For that can power give more than food and drink,
To live at ease, and not be bound to read more

For that can power give more than food and drink,
To live at ease, and not be bound to think?

But Shakespeare's magic could not copied be;
Within that circle none durst walk but he.

But Shakespeare's magic could not copied be;
Within that circle none durst walk but he.

Ay, these look like the workmanship of heaven;
This is the porcelain clay of human kind,
And read more

Ay, these look like the workmanship of heaven;
This is the porcelain clay of human kind,
And therefore cast into these noble moulds.