Matthew Prior

You tell your doctor, that y' are ill
And what does he, but write a bill,
Of read more

You tell your doctor, that y' are ill
And what does he, but write a bill,
Of which you need not read one letter,
The worse the scrawl, the dose the better.
For if you knew but what you take,
Though you recover, he must break.

The ends must justify the means.

The ends must justify the means.

In vain I trusted that the flowing bowl
Would banish sorrow, and enlarge the soul.
To the read more

In vain I trusted that the flowing bowl
Would banish sorrow, and enlarge the soul.
To the late revel, and protracted feast,
Wild dreams succeeded, and disorder'd rest.

Ev'n so, with all submission, I
. . . .
Send you each year a homely letter,
read more

Ev'n so, with all submission, I
. . . .
Send you each year a homely letter,
Who may return me much a better.

He will not carry his wealth to the waters of Acheron.

He will not carry his wealth to the waters of Acheron.