John Dryden

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.

He who trusts secrets to a servant makes him his master.

He who trusts secrets to a servant makes him his master.

Maintain your post: That's all the fame you need;
For 'tis impossible you should proceed.

Maintain your post: That's all the fame you need;
For 'tis impossible you should proceed.

For who can be secure of private right,
If sovereign sway may be dissolved by might?
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For who can be secure of private right,
If sovereign sway may be dissolved by might?
Nor is the people's judgment always true:
The most may err as grossly as the few.

Murder may pass unpunish'd for a time,
But tardy justice will o'ertake the crime.

Murder may pass unpunish'd for a time,
But tardy justice will o'ertake the crime.