Matthew Prior Quotes

And ’twould be a cruel thing, When her black eyes have raised desire, Should she not her bucket bring And kindly help to quench the fire.

So when I am wearied with wandering all day; To thee my delight in the evening I come: No matter what beauties I saw in my way: They were but my visits; but thou art my home.

What I speak, my fair Chloe, and what I write shows The difference there is betwixt Nature and Art: I court others in verse: but I love thee in prose: And they have my whimsies, but thou hast my heart.

On his death bed poor Lubin lies: His spouse is in despair. With frequent sobs and mutual cries They both express their care. A different cause, says parson Sly, The same effect may give: Poor Lubin fears, that he shall die: His wife, that he may live.

Their beer was strong; their wine was port; Their meal was large; their grace was short. They gave the poor the remnant meat, Just when it grew not fit to eat.

They walked and eat, good folks: What then? Why then they walked and eat again: They soundly slept the night away: They did just nothing all the day.