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Courtship is to marriage, as a very witty prologue to a very dull play.

William Congreve

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William Congreve
Age: 58 †
Born: 1670
Born: January 24
Died: 1729
Died: January 19
Engineer
Librettist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Writer
Dull
Marriage
Play
Prologue
Courtship
Witty

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I always take blushing either for a sign of guilt, or of ill breeding.
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Invention flags, his brain goes muddy, And black despair succeeds brown study.
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Whoever is king, is also the father of his country.
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Come, come, leave business to idlers, and wisdom to fools: they have need of 'em: wit be my faculty, and pleasure my occupation, and let father Time shake his glass.
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A hungry wolf at all the herd will run, In hopes, through many, to make sure of one.
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To converse with Scandal is to play at Losing Loadum, you must lose a good name to him, before you can win it for yourself.
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There are times when sense may be unseasonable, as well as truth.
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Some by experience find those words mis-placed: At leisure married, they repent in haste.
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No mask like open truth to cover lies, As to go naked is the best disguise.
William Congreve
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O, nothing is more alluring than a levee from a couch in some confusion.
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He that first cries out stop thief, is often he that has stolen the treasure.
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To find a young fellow that is neither a wit in his own eye, nor a fool in the eye of the world, is a very hard task.
William Congreve
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Would any thing but a madman complain of uncertainty? Uncertainty and expectation are joys of life security is an insipid thing and the overtaking and possessing of a wish discovers the folly of the chase.
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Beauty is the lover's gift.
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O fie, miss, you must not kiss and tell.
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They come together like the Coroner's Inquest, to sit upon the murdered reputations of the week.
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I confess freely to you, I could never look long upon a monkey, without very mortifying reflections.
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She likes herself, yet others hates, For that which in herself she prizes And while she laughs at them, forgets She is the thing that she despises.
William Congreve
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There is in true Beauty, as in Courage, somewhat which narrow Souls cannot dare to admire.
William Congreve
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I am a fool, I know it and yet, Heaven help me, I'm poor enough to be a wit.
William Congreve