John Gay Quotes
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Through all the Employments of Life Each Neighbour abuses his Brother;Whore and Rogue they call Husband and Wife:All Professions be-rogue one another:The Priest calls the Lawyer a Cheat,The Lawyer be-knaves the Divine:And the Statesman, because he's so great, Thinks his Trade as honest as mine.
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Shadow owes its birth to light.
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You know, my Dear, I never meddle in matters of Death; I always leave those Affairs to you. Women indeed are bitter bad Judges in these cases, for they are so partial to the Brave that they think every Man handsome who is going to the Camp or the Gallows.
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I must have women - there is nothing unbends the mind like them.
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Fill it up. I take as large draughts of liquor as I did of love. I hate a flincher in either.
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In every age and clime we seeTwo of a trade can never agree.
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While there is life there 's hope, he cried.
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So comes a reckoning when the banquet's o'er,- The dreadful reckoning, and men smile no more.
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Before the Barn-Door crowing, The Cock by Hens attended, His Eyes around him throwing, Stands for a while suspended: Then One he singles from the Crew, And cheers the happy Hen; With how do you do, and how do you do, And how do you do again.
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The comfortable estate of widowhood is the only hope that keeps up a wife's spirits.
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But his kiss was so sweet, and so closely he pressed, that I languished and pined till I granted the rest.
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Those who in quarrels interpose, must often wipe a bloody nose.
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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? There are not many husbands and wives, who can bear the charges of plaguing one another in a handsome way.
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That raven on yon left-hand oak(Curse on his ill-betiding croak!)Bodes me no good.
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Lest men suspect your tale untrue,Keep probability in view.
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The brave love mercy, and delight to save.
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I hate the man who builds his nameOn ruins of another's fame. Thus prudes, by characters o'erthrown, Imagine that they raise their own.Thus Scribblers, covetous of praise,Think slander can transplant the bays.
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An open foe may prove a curse, but a pretended friend is worse.
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And when a lady's in the case,You know all other things give place.
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Follow love and it will flee, flee love and it will follow thee.
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Love, then, hath every bliss in store; 'Tis friendship, and 'tis something more. Each other every wish they give; Not to know love is not to live.
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How happy could I be with either, Were t' other dear charmer away!
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Is there no hope? the sick man said;The silent doctor shook his head.
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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.