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Who to patch up his fame, or fill his purse, Still pilfers wretched plans, and makes them worse Like gypsies, lest the stolen brat be known, Defacing first, then claiming for his own.
Charles Churchill
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Charles Churchill
Died: 1764
Died: November 4
Poet
Writer
City of Westminster
Known
Lest
Brat
Makes
Wretched
Plagiarism
Stills
Stolen
Claiming
Still
Fill
Purse
Firsts
Planning
Patch
First
Worse
Gypsy
Like
Fame
Purses
Plans
Patches
Gypsies
More quotes by Charles Churchill
Who, with tame cowardice familiar grown, would hear my thoughts, but fear to speak their own.
Charles Churchill
Truth! why shall every wretch of letters Dare to speak truth against his betters! Let ragged virtue stand aloof, Nor mutter accents of reproof Let ragged wit a mute become, When wealth and power would have her dumb.
Charles Churchill
England a fortune-telling host, As num'rous as the stars, could boast Matrons, who toss the cup, and see The grounds of Fate in grounds of tea.
Charles Churchill
Within the brain's most secret cells, A certain lord chief justice dwells, Of sov'reign power, whom one and all, With common voice we reason call.
Charles Churchill
Wit, who never once Forgave a brother, shall forgive a dunce.
Charles Churchill
He hurts me most who lavishly commends.
Charles Churchill
Man and wife, Coupled together for the sake of strife.
Charles Churchill
With curious art the brain, too finely wrought, Preys on herself, and is destroyed by thought.
Charles Churchill
Old Age, a second child, by nature curst With more and greater evils than the first, Weak, sickly, full of pains: in ev'ry breath Railing at life, and yet afraid of death.
Charles Churchill
Though folly, robed in purple, shines, Though vice exhausts Peruvian mines, Yet shall they tremble and turn pale When satire wields her mighty flail.
Charles Churchill
Be England what she will, With all her faults she is my country still.
Charles Churchill
Enough of satire in less harden'd times Great was her force, and mighty were her rhymes. I've read of men, beyond man's daring brave, Who yet have trembled at the strokes she gave Whose souls have felt more terrible alarms From her one line, than from a world in arms.
Charles Churchill
No two on earth in all things can agree All have some darling singularity Women and men, as well as girls and boys, In gewgaws take delight, and sigh for toys, Your sceptres and your crowns, and such like things, Are but a better kind of toys for kings. In things indifferent reason bids us choose, Whether the whim's a monkey or a muse.
Charles Churchill
What is this world?--A term which men have got, To signify not one in ten knows what A term, which with no more precision passes To point out herds of men than herds of asses In common use no more it means, we find, Than many fools in same opinions joined.
Charles Churchill
Quick-circulating slanders mirth afford and reputation bleeds in every word.
Charles Churchill
He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.
Charles Churchill
Enough of self, that darling luscious theme, O'er which philosophers in raptures dream Of which with seeming disregard they write Then prizing most when most they seem to slight.
Charles Churchill
Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air.
Charles Churchill
Who all in raptures their own works rehearse, And drawl out measur'd prose, which they call verse.
Charles Churchill
The best things carried to excess are wrong.
Charles Churchill
