John Dryden

Nor can his blessed soul look down from heaven,
Or break the eternal sabbath of his rest.

Nor can his blessed soul look down from heaven,
Or break the eternal sabbath of his rest.

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

Ill news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace.

Ill news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace.

So liv'd our sires, ere doctors learn'd to kill,
And multiplied with theirs the weekly bill.

So liv'd our sires, ere doctors learn'd to kill,
And multiplied with theirs the weekly bill.

Some truth there was, but dash'd and brew'd with lies,
To please the fools, and puzzle all the wise.

Some truth there was, but dash'd and brew'd with lies,
To please the fools, and puzzle all the wise.