John Dryden

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?

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.

He raised a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down.

He raised a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down.

Content with poverty, my soul I arm;
And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.

Content with poverty, my soul I arm;
And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.

She knows her man, and when you rant and swear,
Can draw you to her with a single hair.

She knows her man, and when you rant and swear,
Can draw you to her with a single hair.