John Dryden

When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they read more

When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.

But wild Ambition loves to slide, not stand,
And Fortune's ice prefers to Virtue's land.

But wild Ambition loves to slide, not stand,
And Fortune's ice prefers to Virtue's land.

All objects lose by too familiar a view.

All objects lose by too familiar a view.

According to her cloth she cut her coat.

According to her cloth she cut her coat.

For who can be secure of private right,
If sovereign sway may be dissolved by might?
Nor read more

For who can be secure of private right,
If sovereign sway may be dissolved by might?
Nor is the people's judgment always true:
The most may err as grossly as the few.