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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
Praise
Kind
Envy

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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.
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No retreat. No retreat. They must conquer or die who've no retreat.
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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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Sure men were born to lie, and women to believe them!
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In beauty faults conspicuous grow The smallest speck is seen on snow.
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Envy's a sharper spur than pay.
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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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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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The luxury of doing good surpasses every other personal enjoyment.
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Fools may our scorn, not envy, raise. For envy is a kind of praise.
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A man is always afraid of a woman that loves him too much
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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!
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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.
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Fair is the kingcup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisy that beside her grows.
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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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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.
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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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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.
John Gay