Quote

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

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John Gay
Age: 47 †
Born: 1685
Born: June 30
Died: 1732
Died: December 4
Librettist
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Barnstaple
Devon
Flower
Distant
Steer
View
Load
Steers
Works
Midst
Dew
Journey
Flowers
Thighs
Views
Treasure
Treasures
Littles
Golden
Skies
Fragrant
Little
Careful
Insects
Exhaust
Sky
Bees
Insect

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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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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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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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Fair is the kingcup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisy that beside her grows.
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Fair is the marigold, for pottage meet.
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You can only be called a hypocrite if you judge others first.
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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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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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Fair words cost nothing.
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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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Breathe soft, ye winds! ye waves, in silence sleep!
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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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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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In beauty faults conspicuous grow The smallest speck is seen on snow.
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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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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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Envy's a sharper spur than pay.
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Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil O'er books consumed the midnight oil?
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Learning by study must be won 'Twas ne'er entail'd from son to son.
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