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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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Charles Churchill
Died: 1764
Died: November 4
Poet
Writer
City of Westminster
Call
Raptures
Rehearse
Rapture
Verse
Verses
Prose
Poet
Works
Drawl

More quotes by 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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Patience is sorrow's salve.
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If you mean to profit, learn to praise.
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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.
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Man and wife, Coupled together for the sake of strife.
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The oak, when living, monarch of the wood The English oak, which, dead, commands the flood.
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The best things carried to excess are wrong.
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Wit, who never once Forgave a brother, shall forgive a dunce.
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Genius is of no country her pure ray Spreads all abroad, as general as the day.
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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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Greatly his foes he dreads, but more his friends He hurts me most who lavishly commends.
Charles Churchill
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And reputation bleeds in ev'ry word.
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Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air.
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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.
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By different methods different men excel, but where is he who can do all things well?
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He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.
Charles Churchill
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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
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Be England what she will, With all her faults she is my country still.
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Gipsies, who every ill can cure, Except the ill of being poor Who charms 'gainst love and agues sell, Who can in hen-roost set a spell, Prepar'd by arts, to them best known To catch all feet except their own, Who, as to fortune, can unlock it, As easily as pick a pocket.
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Though by whim, envy, or resentment led, they damn those authors whom they never read.
Charles Churchill