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Fair is the marigold, for pottage meet.

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
Meet
Pottage
Marigolds
Fairs
Fair

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Youth's the season made for joys, Love is then our duty.
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No retreat. No retreat. They must conquer or die who've no retreat.
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Fair words cost nothing.
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Fools may our scorn, not envy, raise. For envy is a kind of praise.
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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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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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Learning by study must be won 'Twas ne'er entail'd from son to son.
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Fair is the kingcup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisy that beside her grows.
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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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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.
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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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If the heart of a man is depressed with cares, The mist is dispelled when a woman appears.
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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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To friendship every burden's light.
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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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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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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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To shoot at crows is powder flung away.
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Can love be controll'd by advice?
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A man is always afraid of a woman that loves him too much
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