Quotes from John Gay

Cowards are cruel, but the brave Love mercy, and delight to save.

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

Fill it up. I take as large draughts of liquor as I did of love. I hate a flincher in either.

How the mother is to be pitied who hath handsome daughters! Locks, bolts, bars, and lectures of morality are nothing to them: they break through them all. They have as much pleasure in cheating a father and mother, as in cheating at cards.

Lions, wolves, and vultures don't live together in herds, droves or flocks. Of all animals of prey, man is the only sociable one. Every one of us preys upon his neighbor, and yet we herd together.

The comfortable estate of widowhood is the only hope that keeps up a wife's spirits.

Those who in quarrels interpose, must often wipe a bloody nose.

Through all the employments of life each neighbor abuses his brother; whore and rogue they call husband and wife: All professions be-rogue one another.

One wife is too much for most husbands to bear, But two at a time there's no mortal can bear.

Follow love and it will flee, flee love and it will follow thee.

Cowards are cruel, but the brave love mercy and delight to save.

An open foe may prove a curse, but a pretended friend is worse.

Lions, wolves, and vultures don't live together in herds, droves or flocks. Of all animals of prey, man is the only sociable one. Every one of us preys upon his neighbor, and yet we herd together.

Youth's the season made for joys, Love is then our duty.

One common fate we both must prove; You die with envy, I with love.

A woman's friendship ever ends in love.

In love we are all fools alike.

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

Can love be controll'd by advice?

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.

Fill it up. I take as large draughts of liquor as I did of love. I hate a flincher in either.

Variety's the source of joy below, From whence still fresh-revolving pleasures flow, In books and love the mind one end pursues, And only change the expiring flames renews.

The brave love mercy, and delight to save.

Envy is a kind of praise.