Quote

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.

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
Upon
Suppose
Replies
Learn
Raises
Flea
Cannot
Humble
Fleas
Made
Consequence
Thyself
Never
Importance
Nose
Men
Pride
Noses
Worth
Vast
High
Raise
Scan

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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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The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.
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Youth's the season made for joys, Love is then our duty.
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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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Shall ignorance of good and ill Dare to direct the eternal will? Seek virtue, and of that possest, To Providence resign the rest.
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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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To shoot at crows is powder flung away.
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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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Envy's a sharper spur than pay.
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A man is always afraid of a woman that loves him too much
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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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Praising all alike, is praising none.
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Breathe soft, ye winds! ye waves, in silence sleep!
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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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To friendship every burden's light.
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Beasts kill for hunger, men for pay.
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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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Around the steel no tortur'd worm shall twine, No blood of living insect stain my line Let me, less cruel, cast the feather'd hook, With pliant rod athwart the pebbled brook, Silent along the mazy margin stray, And with the fur-wrought fly delude the prey.
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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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She who has never lov'd, has never liv'd.
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