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.

To take up half on trust, and half to try,
Name it not faith but bungling bigotry.

To take up half on trust, and half to try,
Name it not faith but bungling bigotry.

And all at Worcester but the honour lost.

And all at Worcester but the honour lost.

A fiery soul, which, working out its way,
Fretted the pygmy-body to decay,
And o'er-informed the tenement read more

A fiery soul, which, working out its way,
Fretted the pygmy-body to decay,
And o'er-informed the tenement of clay.

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

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