John Dryden

At every close she made, th' attending throng
Replied, and bore the burden of the song:
So read more

At every close she made, th' attending throng
Replied, and bore the burden of the song:
So just, so small, yet in so sweet a note,
It seemed the music melted in the throat.

There's a proud modesty in merit; averse from asking, and resolved to pay ten times the gifts it asks.

There's a proud modesty in merit; averse from asking, and resolved to pay ten times the gifts it asks.

A horrid stillness first invades the ear,
And in that silence we the tempest fear.

A horrid stillness first invades the ear,
And in that silence we the tempest fear.

A mob is the scum that rises upmost when the nation boils.

A mob is the scum that rises upmost when the nation boils.

For who can be secure of private right,
If sovereign sway may be dissolved by might?
Nor read more

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.