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Be England what she will, With all her faults she is my country still.

Charles Churchill

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Charles Churchill
Died: 1764
Died: November 4
Poet
Writer
City of Westminster
Faults
England
Stills
Still
Country

More quotes by Charles Churchill

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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.
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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.
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To copy faults is want of sense.
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Though folly, robed in purple, shines, Though vice exhausts Peruvian mines, Yet shall they tremble and turn pale When satire wields her mighty flail.
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Man and wife, Coupled together for the sake of strife.
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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.
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Though by whim, envy, or resentment led, they damn those authors whom they never read.
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He hurts me most who lavishly commends.
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Even in a hero's heart Discretion is the better part.
Charles Churchill
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Nature listening stood, whilst Shakespeare play'd And wonder'd at the work herself had made.
Charles Churchill
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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
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When fiction rises pleasing to the eye, men will believe, because they love the lie but truth herself, if clouded with a frown, must have some solemn proof to pass her down.
Charles Churchill
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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.
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Wit, who never once Forgave a brother, shall forgive a dunce.
Charles Churchill
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The Scots are poor, cries surly English pride True is the charge, nor by themselves denied. Are they not then in strictest reason clear, Who wisely come to mend their fortunes here?
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Who all in raptures their own works rehearse, And drawl out measur'd prose, which they call verse.
Charles Churchill
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And reputation bleeds in ev'ry word.
Charles Churchill
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Quick-circulating slanders mirth afford and reputation bleeds in every word.
Charles Churchill
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Amongst the sons of men how few are known Who dare be just to merit not their own.
Charles Churchill
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By different methods different men excel, but where is he who can do all things well?
Charles Churchill