But love's a malady without a cure.

— John Dryden

Chaucer I confess is a rough diamond and must be polished e'er he shines.

— John Dryden

Damned Neuters in their Middle way of Steering Are neither Fish nor Flesh nor good Red Herring.

— John Dryden

Dancing is the poetry of the foot.

— John Dryden

Errors, like straws, upon the surface flow; He who would search for pearls, must dive below.

— John Dryden

Every inch that is not fool is rogue.

— John Dryden

Farewell, ungrateful traitor, Farewell, my perjured swain;Let never injured creature Believe a man again. The pleasure of possessing Surpasses all expressing, But 'tis too short a blessing, And love too long a pain.'This easy to deceive us In pity of your pain;But when we love you leave us To rail at you in vain. Before we have descried it There is no bliss beside it, But she that once has tried it Will never love again. The passion we pretended Was only to obtain, But when the charm is ended The charmer you disdain. Your love by ours we measure Till we have lost our treasure, But dying is a pleasure When living is a pain.

— John Dryden

Fight on my merry men all I'm a little wounded but I am not slain I will lay me down for to bleed awhile Then I'll rise and fight with you again.

— John Dryden

For Art may err but Nature cannot miss.

— John Dryden

Forgiveness to the injured does belong, but they ne'er pardon who have done wrong.

— John Dryden