Maxioms by John Dryden
Whatever is, is in its causes just.
Whatever is, is in its causes just.
Content with poverty, my soul I arm;
And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.
Content with poverty, my soul I arm;
And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.
'Tis Fate that flings the dice,
And as she flings
Of kings makes peasants,
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'Tis Fate that flings the dice,
And as she flings
Of kings makes peasants,
And of peasants kings.
Forgiveness to the injured does belong,
But they ne'er pardon who have done the wrong.
Forgiveness to the injured does belong,
But they ne'er pardon who have done the wrong.
Keen appetite
And quick digestion wait on you and yours.
Keen appetite
And quick digestion wait on you and yours.
