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Fool beckons fool, and dunce awakens dunce.

Charles Churchill

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Charles Churchill
Died: 1764
Died: November 4
Poet
Writer
City of Westminster
Dunce
Beckons
Dunces
Awakens
Folly
Fool

More quotes by Charles Churchill

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The oak, when living, monarch of the wood The English oak, which, dead, commands the flood.
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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.
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Greatly his foes he dreads, but more his friends He hurts me most who lavishly commends.
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If you mean to profit, learn to praise.
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Patience is sorrow's salve.
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He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.
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He hurts me most who lavishly commends.
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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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To copy faults is want of sense.
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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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Genius is independent of situation.
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Even in a hero's heart Discretion is the better part.
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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.
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Weak is that throne, and in itself unsound, Which takes not solid virtue for its ground.
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Who, with tame cowardice familiar grown, would hear my thoughts, but fear to speak their own.
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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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Ourselves are to ourselves the cause of ill.
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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.
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The rigid saint, by whom no mercy's shown To saints whose lives are better than his own.
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The surest way to health, say what they will, Is never to suppose we shall be ill Most of the ills which we poor mortals know From doctors and imagination flow.
Charles Churchill