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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.
Charles Churchill
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Charles Churchill
Died: 1764
Died: November 4
Poet
Writer
City of Westminster
Turns
Vice
Wields
Folly
Exhausts
Vices
Tremble
Shining
Shines
Mines
Satire
Peruvian
Turn
Purple
Peruvians
Shall
Mighty
Flail
Though
Pale
Robed
More quotes by Charles Churchill
Though by whim, envy, or resentment led, they damn those authors whom they never read.
Charles Churchill
Genius is of no country her pure ray Spreads all abroad, as general as the day.
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He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.
Charles Churchill
It can't be Nature, for it is not sense.
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Who, with tame cowardice familiar grown, would hear my thoughts, but fear to speak their own.
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Quick-circulating slanders mirth afford and reputation bleeds in every word.
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To copy faults is want of sense.
Charles Churchill
The oak, when living, monarch of the wood The English oak, which, dead, commands the flood.
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The rigid saint, by whom no mercy's shown To saints whose lives are better than his own.
Charles Churchill
Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air.
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
Even in a hero's heart Discretion is the better part.
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Fool beckons fool, and dunce awakens dunce.
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Ourselves are to ourselves the cause of ill.
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Greatly his foes he dreads, but more his friends He hurts me most who lavishly commends.
Charles Churchill
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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Satire, whilst envy and ill-humor sway The mind of man, must always make her way Nor to a bosom, with discretion fraught, Is all her malice worth a single thought. The wise have not the will, nor fools the power, To stop her headstrong course within the hour Left to herself, she dies opposing strife Gives her fresh vigor, and prolongs her life.
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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.
Charles Churchill
He hurts me most who lavishly commends.
Charles Churchill
Be England what she will, With all her faults she is my country still.
Charles Churchill