A Quote by John Gay

From kings to cobblers 'tis the same; Bad servants wound their masters' fame. — © John Gay
From kings to cobblers 'tis the same; Bad servants wound their masters' fame.
Men in great place are thrice servants: servants of the sovereign or state, servants of fame, and servants of business.
The most imperious masters over their own servants are at the same time the most abject slaves to the servants of others.
Words are good servants but bad masters.
If, however, economic ambitions are good servants, they are bad masters
If, however, economic ambitions are good servants, they are bad masters.
It is with our Passions, as it is with Fire and Water, they are 'Good Servants,' but 'Bad Masters.'
It is with our passions as it is with fire and water, they are good servants, but bad masters.
Weapons compound man's power to achieve; they amplify the capabilities of both the good man and the bad, and to exactly the same degree, having no will of their own. Thus we must regard them as servants, not masters - and good servants to good men. Without them, man is diminished, and his opportunities to fulfill his destiny are lessened. An unarmed man can only flee from evil, and evil is not overcome by fleeing from it.
Passions, as fire and water, are good servants, but bad masters, and subminister to the best and worst purposes.
I entreat all artisans faithfully to follow their craft and take delight in it. I entreat all servants to be faithful servants of their masters and mistresses.
Men in great place are thrice servants; servants of the sovereign state, servants of fame, and servants of business; so as they have no freedom, neither in their persons, nor in their actions, nor in their times. It is a strange desire to seek power and to lose liberty; or to seek power over others, and to lose power over a man's self.
Tis the old secret of the gods that they come in low disguises. 'Tis the vulgar great who come dizened with gold and jewels. Real kings hide away their crowns in their wardrobes, and affect a plain and poor exterior.
The souls of emperors and cobblers are cast in the same mold...The same reason that makes us wrangle with a neighbor creates a war betwixt princes.
The souls of emperors and cobblers are cast in the same mould
In arms and science tis the same Our rival's hurts create our fame.
Fame requires every kind of excess. I mean true fame, a devouring neon, not the sombre renown of waning statesmen or chinless kings.
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