110 Quotes by Charles Churchill

The oak, when living, monarch of the wood; The English oak, which, dead, commands the flood.

Who all in raptures their own works rehearse, And drawl out measur'd prose, which they call verse.

The rigid saint, by whom no mercy's shown To saints whose lives are better than his own.

And reputation bleeds in ev'ry word.

Though folly, robed in purple, shines, Though vice exhausts Peruvian mines, Yet shall they tremble and turn pale When satire wields her mighty flail.

When satire flies abroad on falsehood's wing, Short is her life, and impotent her sting; But when to truth allied, the wound she gives Sinks deep, and to remotest ages lives.

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?

Most of those evils we poor mortals know From doctors and imagination flow.

Fame is nothing but an empty name.