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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
Vain
Ostriches
Profit
Nodding
Gains
Crown
Prove
Crowns
Dead
Serves
Living
Round
Plume
Rounds
Hearse
Gain
Ostrich
More quotes by John Gay
[Gulliver was soon being read] from the cabinet council to the nursery.
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
A man is always afraid of a woman that loves him too much
John Gay
Fools may our scorn, not envy, raise. For envy is a kind of praise.
John Gay
Envy's a sharper spur than pay: No author ever spar'd a brother Wits are gamecocks to one another.
John Gay
The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.
John Gay
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?
John Gay
In every age and clime we see Two of a trade can never agree.
John Gay
Fair is the kingcup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisy that beside her grows.
John Gay
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.
John Gay
I must have women - there is nothing unbends the mind like them.
John Gay
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.
John Gay
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.
John Gay
To shoot at crows is powder flung away.
John Gay
Shall ignorance of good and ill Dare to direct the eternal will? Seek virtue, and of that possest, To Providence resign the rest.
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
Sure men were born to lie, and women to believe them!
John Gay
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.
John Gay
No retreat. No retreat. They must conquer or die who've no retreat.
John Gay
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.
John Gay