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Gamesters and highwaymen are generally very good to their whores, but they are very devils to their wives.

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
Whores
Devils
Wives
Generally
Devil
Wife
Good
Highwaymen

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Music might tame and civilize wild beasts, but 'tis evident it never yet could tame and civilize musicians.
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Fair is the marigold, for pottage meet.
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Praising all alike, is praising none.
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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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I cannot raise my worth too high Of what vast consequence am I! Not of the importance you suppose, Replies a Flea upon his nose Be humble, learn thyself to scan Know, pride was never made for man.
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A man is always afraid of a woman that loves him too much
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Fair words cost nothing.
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I must have women - there is nothing unbends the mind like them.
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Youth's the season made for joys, Love is then our duty.
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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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To shoot at crows is powder flung away.
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Around the steel no tortur'd worm shall twine, No blood of living insect stain my line Let me, less cruel, cast the feather'd hook, With pliant rod athwart the pebbled brook, Silent along the mazy margin stray, And with the fur-wrought fly delude the prey.
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[Gulliver was soon being read] from the cabinet council to the nursery.
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A rich rogue nowadays is fit company for any gentleman and the world, my dear, hath not such a contempt for roguery as you imagine.
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Learning by study must be won 'Twas ne'er entail'd from son to son.
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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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The careful insect 'midst his works I view, Now from the flowers exhaust the fragrant dew, With golden treasures load his little thighs, And steer his distant journey through the skies.
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Envy's a sharper spur than pay.
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Fair is the kingcup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisy that beside her grows.
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Breathe soft, ye winds! ye waves, in silence sleep!
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