John Gay (1685 – 1732)
English poet and dramatist.
You base man you,—how can you look me in the face after what hath passed between us?—See here, perfidious wretch, how I am forc'd to bear about the load of infamy you have laid upon me— -O Macheath! thou hast robb'd me of my quiet—to see thee tortur'd would give me pleasure.
O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed,
By keeping men off, you keep them on.
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.
I must have women—there is nothing unbends the mind like them.
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.
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.
All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd.
Where yet was ever found a mother
Who'd give her booby for another?
Over the hills and far away.
Fill it up. I take as large draughts of liquor as I did of love. I hate a flincher in either.
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?
How happy could I be with either,
Were t'other dear charmer away!
'T is woman that seduces all mankind;
By her we first were taught the wheedling arts.
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.
When we risk no contradiction,
It prompts the tongue to deal in fiction.
Lest men suspect your tale untrue,
Keep probability in view.
From wine what sudden friendship springs!
Sure men were born to lie, and women to believe them!
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.
A Wolf eats sheep but now and then;
Ten thousands are devour'd by men.
An open foe may prove a curse,
but a pretend friend is worse.