John Dryden

A man so various, that he seem'd to be
Not one, but all mankind's epitome;
Stiff in read more

A man so various, that he seem'd to be
Not one, but all mankind's epitome;
Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong.
Was everything by starts, and nothing long;
But in the course of one revolving moon,
Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon.

Dreams are but interludes, which fancy makes;
When monarch reason sleeps, this mimic wakes.

Dreams are but interludes, which fancy makes;
When monarch reason sleeps, this mimic wakes.

Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; every little absence is an age.

Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; every little absence is an age.

Beware the fury of a patient man.

Beware the fury of a patient man.

'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.