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In every age and clime we see Two of a trade can never agree.

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
Every
Never
Clime
Agreement
Agree
Trade
Age
Two

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Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil O'er books consumed the midnight oil?
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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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[Gulliver was soon being read] from the cabinet council to the nursery.
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To shoot at crows is powder flung away.
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She who has never lov'd, has never liv'd.
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Envy's a sharper spur than pay.
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I must have women - there is nothing unbends the mind like them.
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Envy's a sharper spur than pay: No author ever spar'd a brother Wits are gamecocks to one another.
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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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Fair is the marigold, for pottage meet.
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Can you support the expense of a husband, hussy, in gaming, drinking and whoring? Have you money enough to carry on the daily quarrels of man and wife about who shall squander most?
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Beasts kill for hunger, men for pay.
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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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O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed, by keeping men off, you keep them on.
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Can love be controll'd by advice?
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A man is always afraid of a woman that loves him too much
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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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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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Sure men were born to lie, and women to believe them!
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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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