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Sure men were born to lie, and women to believe them!

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
Sure
Lying
Born
Women
Believe
Men

More quotes by 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.
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To shoot at crows is powder flung away.
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Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil O'er books consumed the midnight oil?
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Envy's a sharper spur than pay.
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Can love be controll'd by advice?
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.
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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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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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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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To friendship every burden's light.
John Gay
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O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed, by keeping men off, you keep them on.
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A man is always afraid of a woman that loves him too much
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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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Learning by study must be won 'Twas ne'er entail'd from son to son.
John Gay
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To frame the little animal, provide All the gay hues that wait on female pride: Let Nature guide thee sometimes golden wire The shining bellies of the fly require The peacock's plumes thy tackle must not fail, Nor the dear purchase of the sable's tail.
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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.
John Gay
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Envy is a kind of praise.
John Gay
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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
John Gay
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In every age and clime we see Two of a trade can never agree.
John Gay
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The luxury of doing good surpasses every other personal enjoyment.
John Gay