But money, wife, is the true Fuller's Earth for reputations, there is not a spot or a stain but what it can take out.
quote by John Gay
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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.
quote by John Gay
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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.
quote by John Gay
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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.
quote by John Gay
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He That Tastes Woman
Man may escape from rope and gun;
Nay, some have out-liv'd 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.
poem by John Gay
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Songs from The Beggar’s Opera: Air XXVII-“Green Sleeves”
Since laws were made, for every degree,
To curb vice in others, as well as me,
I wonder we han’t better company
Upon Tyburn tree.
But gold from law can take out the sting;
And if rich men, like us, were to swing,
’Twould thin the land, such numbers to string
Upon Tyburn tree.
poem by John Gay
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Songs from The Beggar’s Opera: Air X-“Thomas, I Cannot
Polly. I like a ship in storms was tossed,
Yet afraid to put into land,
For seized in the port the vessel’s lost
Whose treasure is contraband.
The waves are laid,
My duty’s paid;
O joy beyond expression!
Thus safe ashore
I ask no more;
My all is in my possession.
poem by John Gay
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If Lawyer's Hand Is Fee'd
A fox may steal your hens, sir,
A whore your health and pence, sir,
Your daughter rob your chest, sir,
Your wife may steal your rest, sir,
A thief your goods and plate.
But this is all but picking,
With rest, pence, chest and chicken;
It ever was decreed, sir,
If lawyer's hand is fee'd, sir,
He steals your whole estate.
poem by John Gay
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If the Heart of a Man
If the heart of a man is deprest 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.
Roses and lillies her cheeks disclose,
But her ripe lips are more sweet than those.
Press her,
Caress her,
With blisses,
Her kisses
Dissolve us in pleasure, and soft repose
poem by John Gay
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Songs from The Beggar’s Opera: Air XVI-“Over the Hills, and Far Away”
Mac. Were I laid on Greenland’s coast,
And in my arms embraced my lass,
Warm amidst eternal frost,
Too soon the half-year’s night would pass.
Polly. Were I sold on Indian soil,
Soon as the burning day was closed,
I could mock the sultry toil
When on my charmer’s breast reposed.
Mac. And I would love you all the day,
Polly. Every night would kiss and play,
Mac. If with me you’d fondly stray
Polly. Over the hills, and far away.
poem by John Gay
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