Maxioms by John Dryden
He raised a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down.
He raised a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down.
They who write ill, and they who ne'er durst write,
Turn critics out of mere revenge and spite.
They who write ill, and they who ne'er durst write,
Turn critics out of mere revenge and spite.
Ill habits gather by unseen degrees,As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.
Ill habits gather by unseen degrees,As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.
Such subtle covenants shall be made,
Till peace itself is war in masquerade.
Such subtle covenants shall be made,
Till peace itself is war in masquerade.
