John Gay

The careful insect 'midst his works I view,
Now from the flowers exhaust the fragrant dew,
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The careful insect 'midst his works I view,
Now from the flowers exhaust the fragrant dew,
With golden treasures load his little thighs,
And steer his distant journey through the skies.

I hate the man who builds his name on the ruins of another's fame.

I hate the man who builds his name on the ruins of another's fame.

All in the Downs are fleet was moor'd.

All in the Downs are fleet was moor'd.

A woman scorn'd is pitiless as fate,
For then the dread of shame adds stings to hate.

A woman scorn'd is pitiless as fate,
For then the dread of shame adds stings to hate.

How many saucy airs we meet,
From Temple Bar to Aldgate street!

How many saucy airs we meet,
From Temple Bar to Aldgate street!