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O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed, by keeping men off, you keep them on.

John Gay

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John Gay
Age: 47 †
Born: 1685
Born: June 30
Died: 1732
Died: December 4
Librettist
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Barnstaple
Devon
Flirty
Flirting
Kissed
Keeping
Kissing
Keep
Might
Toyed
Men
Polly

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The charge is prepared the lawyers are met The judges all ranged (a terrible show!) I go, undismay'd. For death is a debt, A debt on demand. So take what I owe.
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What will not luxury taste? Earth, sea, and air, Are daily ransack'd for the bill of fare. Blood stuffed in skins is British Christians' food, And France robs marshes of the croaking brood.
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My lodging is on the cold ground, And hard, very hard, is my fare, But that which grieves me more Is the coldness of my dear.
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Sure men were born to lie, and women to believe them!
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The luxury of doing good surpasses every other personal enjoyment.
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Learning by study must be won 'Twas ne'er entail'd from son to son.
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Nor love, not honor, wealth nor power, can give the heart a cheerful hour when health is lost. Be timely wise With health all taste of pleasure flies.
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Some folks of cider make a rout And cider's well enough no doubt When better liquors fail But wine, that's richer, better still, Ev'n wine itself (deny't who will) Must yield to nappy ale
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She who has never lov'd, has never liv'd.
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Envy is a kind of praise.
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Shall ignorance of good and ill Dare to direct the eternal will? Seek virtue, and of that possest, To Providence resign the rest.
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Praising all alike, is praising none.
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If the heart of a man is depressed with cares, The mist is dispelled when a woman appears.
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Envy's a sharper spur than pay: No author ever spar'd a brother Wits are gamecocks to one another.
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Is there no hope? the sick man said, The silent doctor shook his head, And took his leave with signs of sorrow, Despairing of his fee to-morrow.
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Man may escape from rope and gun Nay, some have outlived the doctor's pill: Who takes a woman must be undone, That basilisk is sure to kill. The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets, So he that tastes woman, woman, woman, He that tastes woman, ruin meets.
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Fools may our scorn, not envy, raise. For envy is a kind of praise.
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To friendship every burden's light.
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A man is always afraid of a woman that loves him too much
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Envy's a sharper spur than pay.
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