John Dryden

Happy the man, and happy he alone, he who can call today his own; he who, secure within, can say, read more

Happy the man, and happy he alone, he who can call today his own; he who, secure within, can say, tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.

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.

A fiery soul, which, working out its way,
Fretted the pygmy-body to decay,
And o'er-informed the tenement read more

A fiery soul, which, working out its way,
Fretted the pygmy-body to decay,
And o'er-informed the tenement of clay.

Above any Greek or Roman name.

Above any Greek or Roman name.

Swear, food, or starve; for the dilemma's even;
A tradesman thou! and hope to go to heaven?

Swear, food, or starve; for the dilemma's even;
A tradesman thou! and hope to go to heaven?