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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.
Charles Churchill
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Charles Churchill
Died: 1764
Died: November 4
Poet
Writer
City of Westminster
Shall
Accents
Mutter
Speak
Wit
Betters
Become
Dumb
Reproof
Truth
Dare
Wretch
Power
Letters
Every
Wealth
Ragged
Would
Stand
Aloof
Virtue
Mute
More quotes by 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
Quick-circulating slanders mirth afford and reputation bleeds in every word.
Charles Churchill
Ourselves are to ourselves the cause of ill.
Charles Churchill
Even in a hero's heart Discretion is the better part.
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
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
By different methods different men excel, but where is he who can do all things well?
Charles Churchill
Be England what she will, With all her faults she is my country still.
Charles Churchill
Who, with tame cowardice familiar grown, would hear my thoughts, but fear to speak their own.
Charles Churchill
Who all in raptures their own works rehearse, And drawl out measur'd prose, which they call verse.
Charles Churchill
Nature, through all her works, in great degree, Borrows a blessing from variety. Music itself her needful aid requires To rouse the soul, and wake our dying fires.
Charles Churchill
Patience is sorrow's salve.
Charles Churchill
Greatly his foes he dreads, but more his friends He hurts me most who lavishly commends.
Charles Churchill
The oak, when living, monarch of the wood The English oak, which, dead, commands the flood.
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
Genius is of no country her pure ray Spreads all abroad, as general as the day.
Charles Churchill
Amongst the sons of men how few are known Who dare be just to merit not their own.
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
Nature listening stood, whilst Shakespeare play'd And wonder'd at the work herself had made.
Charles Churchill
Genius is independent of situation.
Charles Churchill
