Matthew Prior

"Our hopes, like towering falcons, aim At objects in an airy height; The little pleasure of the game Is from afar to view the flight."

"From ignorance our comfort flows. The only wretched are the wise."

"That if weak women went astray, Their stars were more in fault than they."

"The end must justify the means."

"Forbear to mention what thou canst not praise."

"Soft peace she brings; wherever she arrives She builds our quiet as she forms our lives; Lays the rough paths of peevish Nature even, And opens in each heart a little heaven."

"Be to her virtues very kind; Be to her faults a little blind; Let all her ways be unconfined; And clap your padlock — on her mind!"

"And thought the nation ne'er would thrive Till all the whores were burnt alive."

"He ranged his tropes, and preached up patience; Backed his opinion with quotations."

"Cured yesterday of my disease, I died last night of my physician."

"Now fitted the halter, now traversed the cart, And often took leave, but was loth to depart."

"His noble negligences teach What others' toils despair to reach."

"Till their own dreams at length decive 'em, And oft repeating, they believe 'em."

"To John I owed great obligation; But John, unhappily, thought fit To publish it to all the nation: Sure John and I are more than quit."

"Venus, take my votive glass; Since I am not what I was, What from this day I shall be, Venus, let me never see."

"Nobles and heralds, by your leave, Here lies what once was Matthew Prior; The son of Adam and of Eve: Can Bourbon or Nassau claim higher?"

"All jargon of the schools."

"Odds life! must one swear to the truth of a song?"

"They never taste who always drink; They always talk who never think."

"That air and harmony of shape express, Fine by degrees, and beautifully less."

"Abra was ready ere I called her name; And though I called another, Abra came."

"For hope is but the dream of those that wake."

"Who breathes must suffer, and who thinks must mourn; And he alone is bless'd who ne'er was born."

"A Rechabite poor Will must live, And drink of Adam's ale."

"What is a king? a man condemn'd to bear The public burthen of the nation's care."

"They paid the Church and Parish-Rate; And took, but read not the Receit: For which They claim’d their Sunday’s Due, Of slumb’ring in an upper Pew."