This Mads me, that perhaps ignoble hands Have overlaid him,-for they could not conquer: Murdered by multitudes, whom I alone Had right to slay.
"The Works Of John Dryden, Vol. 7 (of 18) The Duke of Guise; Albion and Albanius; Don Sebastian"
John Dryden
That is what Mads me to this day.
"Sweet Cicely Or Josiah Allen as a Politician"
Josiah Allen's Wife (Marietta Holley)
But hope at times throngs in so rich and full, It Mads the brain like wine: come with me, nurse, Sit by me, lull me calm with gentle tales Of noble ladies wandering in the wild wood, Fed on chance earth-nuts, and wild strawberries, Or milk of silly sheep, and woodland doe.
"The Saint's Tragedy"
Charles Kingsley
