Maxioms by Charles Churchill
Matrons, who toss the cup, and see
The grounds of fate in grounds of tea.
Matrons, who toss the cup, and see
The grounds of fate in grounds of tea.
All soils are not fertile.
All soils are not fertile.
With that malignant envy which turns pale,
And sickens, even if a friend prevail.
With that malignant envy which turns pale,
And sickens, even if a friend prevail.
Appearances to save, his only care;
So things seem right, no matter what they are.
Appearances to save, his only care;
So things seem right, no matter what they are.
No statesman e'er will find it worth his pains
To tax our labours and excise our brains.
No statesman e'er will find it worth his pains
To tax our labours and excise our brains.
