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Youth's the season made for joys, Love is then our duty.

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
Seasons
Youth
Duty
Joy
Made
Love
Joys
Season

More quotes by John Gay

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A man is always afraid of a woman that loves him too much
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She who has never lov'd, has never liv'd.
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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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The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.
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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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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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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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Sure men were born to lie, and women to believe them!
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In every age and clime we see Two of a trade can never agree.
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The luxury of doing good surpasses every other personal enjoyment.
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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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Music might tame and civilize wild beasts, but 'tis evident it never yet could tame and civilize musicians.
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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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I must have women - there is nothing unbends the mind like them.
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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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Fair is the kingcup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisy that beside her grows.
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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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Praising all alike, is praising none.
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The charge is prepared the lawyers are met The judges all ranged (a terrible show!) I go, undismay'd. For death is a debt, A debt on demand. So take what I owe.
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.
John Gay