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Fools may our scorn, not envy, raise. For envy is a kind of praise.

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
Raises
Praise
Fool
Envied
May
Envious
Kind
Scorn
Fools
Raise
Envy

More quotes by John Gay

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You can only be called a hypocrite if you judge others first.
John Gay
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Why is the hearse with scutcheons blazon'd round, And with the nodding plume of ostrich crown'd? No the dead know it not, nor profit gain It only serves to prove the living vain.
John Gay
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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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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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Can you support the expense of a husband, hussy, in gaming, drinking and whoring? Have you money enough to carry on the daily quarrels of man and wife about who shall squander most?
John Gay
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The luxury of doing good surpasses every other personal enjoyment.
John Gay
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Beasts kill for hunger, men for pay.
John Gay
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She who has never lov'd, has never liv'd.
John Gay
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Envy's a sharper spur than pay.
John Gay
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Do you think your mother and I should have lived comfortably so long together, if ever we had been married? Baggage!
John Gay
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Who hath not heard the rich complain Of surfeits, and corporeal pain? He barr'd from every use of wealth, Envies the ploughman's strength and health.
John Gay
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Fair is the kingcup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisy that beside her grows.
John Gay
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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.
John Gay
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Envy is a kind of praise.
John Gay
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Lions, wolves, and vultures don't live together in herds, droves or flocks. Of all animals of prey, man is the only sociable one. Every one of us preys upon his neighbor, and yet we herd together.
John Gay
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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.
John Gay
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Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil O'er books consumed the midnight oil?
John Gay
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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.
John Gay
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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.
John Gay
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To shoot at crows is powder flung away.
John Gay