John Dryden (/ˈdraɪdən/; 19 August [O.S. 9 August] 1631 – 12 May [O.S. 1 May] 1700) was an English poet, literary critic, translator, and playwright who in 1668 was appointed England's first Poet Laureate.[1][2] (wikipedia)
Presence of mind and courage in distress, Are more than arrives to procure success?
If passion rules, how weak does reason prove!
How easy 'tis, when Destiny proves kind, With full-spread sails to run before the wind!
An ugly woman in a rich habit set out with jewels nothing can become.
Sure there's contagion in the tears of friends.
So softly death succeeded life in her, She did but dream of heaven, and she was there.
Long pains, with use of bearing, are half eased.
Let grace and goodness be the principal loadstone of thy affections.
Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray; Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way: Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on, And see the dangers that we cannot shun.
Many things impossible to thought have been by need to full perfection brought.