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If the heart of a man is depressed with cares, The mist is dispelled when a woman appears.

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
Care
Dispelled
Heart
Mist
Men
Depressed
Cares
Appears
Depression
Caring
Woman

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O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed, by keeping men off, you keep them on.
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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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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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Fools may our scorn, not envy, raise. For envy is a kind of praise.
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In beauty faults conspicuous grow The smallest speck is seen on snow.
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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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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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To shoot at crows is powder flung away.
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Fill ev'ry glass, for wine inspires us, And fires us With courage, love and joy. Women and wine should life employ. Is there ought else on earth desirous?
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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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[Gulliver was soon being read] from the cabinet council to the nursery.
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To friendship every burden's light.
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Sure men were born to lie, and women to believe them!
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The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.
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Gamesters and highwaymen are generally very good to their whores, but they are very devils to their wives.
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Praising all alike, is praising none.
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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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In every age and clime we see Two of a trade can never agree.
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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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Beasts kill for hunger, men for pay.
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