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Fair is the kingcup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisy that beside her grows.

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
Daisies
Meadows
Blows
Beside
Fairs
Fair
Buttercup
Blow
Daisy
Grows
Meadow

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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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You can only be called a hypocrite if you judge others first.
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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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Youth's the season made for joys, Love is then our duty.
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Fair is the marigold, for pottage meet.
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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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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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In every age and clime we see Two of a trade can never agree.
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A rich rogue nowadays is fit company for any gentleman and the world, my dear, hath not such a contempt for roguery as you imagine.
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In beauty faults conspicuous grow The smallest speck is seen on snow.
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I must have women - there is nothing unbends the mind like them.
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The luxury of doing good surpasses every other personal enjoyment.
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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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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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To shoot at crows is powder flung away.
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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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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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Can love be controll'd by advice?
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To friendship every burden's light.
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Gamesters and highwaymen are generally very good to their whores, but they are very devils to their wives.
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