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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.
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
Profit
Nodding
Gains
Crown
Prove
Crowns
Dead
Serves
Living
Round
Plume
Rounds
Hearse
Gain
Ostrich
Vain
Ostriches
More quotes by John Gay
Youth's the season made for joys, Love is then our duty.
John Gay
Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil O'er books consumed the midnight oil?
John Gay
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.
John Gay
To frame the little animal, provide All the gay hues that wait on female pride: Let Nature guide thee sometimes golden wire The shining bellies of the fly require The peacock's plumes thy tackle must not fail, Nor the dear purchase of the sable's tail.
John Gay
Do you think your mother and I should have lived comfortably so long together, if ever we had been married? Baggage!
John Gay
The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.
John Gay
I must have women - there is nothing unbends the mind like them.
John Gay
Fools may our scorn, not envy, raise. For envy is a kind of praise.
John Gay
Praising all alike, is praising none.
John Gay
O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed, by keeping men off, you keep them on.
John Gay
In beauty faults conspicuous grow The smallest speck is seen on snow.
John Gay
Learning by study must be won 'Twas ne'er entail'd from son to son.
John Gay
Beasts kill for hunger, men for pay.
John Gay
Envy is a kind of praise.
John Gay
Fair is the marigold, for pottage meet.
John Gay
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
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
John Gay
If the heart of a man is depressed with cares, The mist is dispelled when a woman appears.
John Gay
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.
John Gay
Envy's a sharper spur than pay.
John Gay