Such subtle covenants shall be made, Till peace itself is war in masquerade.

— John Dryden

The intoxication of anger, like that of the grape, shows us to others, but hides us from ourselves.

— John Dryden

There is a pleasure sure In being mad which none but madmen know!

— John Dryden

They conquer who believe they can.

— John Dryden

This Fate that flings the dice, And as she flings Of kings makes peasants, And of peasants kings.

— John Dryden

Those who write ill, and they who ne'er durst write, Turn critics out of mere revenge and spite.

— John Dryden

Thus like a Captive in an Isle coffin'd, Man walks at large, a Paris'NER of the Mind

— John Dryden

War he has sung is toil and trouble Honor but an empty bubble.

— John Dryden

War is the trade of kings.

— John Dryden

War is the trade of Kings.

— John Dryden