John Gay Quotes - Page 2

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.

What then in love can woman do? If we grow fond they shun us. And when we fly them, they pursue: But leave us when they've won us.

But his kiss was so sweet, and so closely he pressed, that I languished and pined till I granted the rest.

There is no dependence that can be sure but a dependence upon one's self.

Sure men were born to lie, and women to believe them!

Fair words cost nothing.

What happiness the rural maid attends, In cheerful labour while each day she spends! She gratefully receives what Heav'n has sent, And, rich in poverty, enjoys content.

Of all the fools that pride can boast, A Coxcomb claims distinction most.

In love we are all fools alike.

Learning by study must be won; 'Twas ne'er entail'd from son to son.

'T is woman that seduces all mankind; By her we first were taught the wheedling arts.

Lest men suspect your tale untrue, Keep probability in view.

Praising all alike, is praising none.

The sun was set; the night came on apace, And falling dews bewet around the place; The bat takes airy rounds on leathern wings, And the hoarse owl his woeful dirges sings.

Man may escape from rope and gun; Nay, some have outlived the doctor's pill: Who takes a woman must be undone, That basilisk is sure to kill. The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets, So he that tastes woman, woman, woman, He that tastes woman, ruin meets.

In beauty faults conspicuous grow; The smallest speck is seen on snow.

Gamesters and highwaymen are generally very good to their whores, but they are very devils to their wives.

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.

To friendship every burden's light.

By outward show let's not be cheated; An ass should like an ass be treated.

If the heart of a man is depressed with cares, The mist is dispell'd when a woman appears; Like the notes of a fiddle, she sweetly, sweetly Raises the spirits, and charms our ears.

Woman's mind Oft' shifts her passions, like th'inconstant wind; Sudden she rages, like the troubled main, Now sinks the storm, and all is calm again.

She who has never lov'd, has never liv'd.

Do you think your mother and I should have lived comfortably so long together, if ever we had been married? Baggage!

Fair is the marigold, for pottage meet.