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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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John Gay
Age: 47 †
Born: 1685
Born: June 30
Died: 1732
Died: December 4
Librettist
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Barnstaple
Devon
Wells
Folks
Rout
Well
Fail
Ale
Enough
Wine
Cider
Must
Failing
Liquor
Make
Doubt
Richer
Stills
Yield
Nappy
Still
Beer
Liquors
Better
Deny
Nappies
More quotes by John Gay
Gamesters and highwaymen are generally very good to their whores, but they are very devils to their wives.
John Gay
Breathe soft, ye winds! ye waves, in silence sleep!
John Gay
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
In every age and clime we see Two of a trade can never agree.
John Gay
No retreat. No retreat. They must conquer or die who've no retreat.
John Gay
To shoot at crows is powder flung away.
John Gay
[Gulliver was soon being read] from the cabinet council to the nursery.
John Gay
Envy's a sharper spur than pay.
John Gay
She who has never lov'd, has never liv'd.
John Gay
O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed, by keeping men off, you keep them on.
John Gay
Fair is the marigold, for pottage meet.
John Gay
Beasts kill for hunger, men for pay.
John Gay
Do you think your mother and I should have lived comfortably so long together, if ever we had been married? Baggage!
John Gay
The luxury of doing good surpasses every other personal enjoyment.
John Gay
Envy's a sharper spur than pay: No author ever spar'd a brother Wits are gamecocks to one another.
John Gay
Learning by study must be won 'Twas ne'er entail'd from son to son.
John Gay
In beauty faults conspicuous grow The smallest speck is seen on snow.
John Gay
Shall ignorance of good and ill Dare to direct the eternal will? Seek virtue, and of that possest, To Providence resign the rest.
John Gay
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
To friendship every burden's light.
John Gay