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A little scorn is alluring.

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
Alluring
Scorn
Littles
Little

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Beauty is the lover's gift.
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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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O ay, letters - I had letters - I am persecuted with letters - I hate letters - nobody knows how to write letters and yet one has 'em, one does not know why - they serve one to pin up one's hair.
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Marriage is honourable, as you say and if so, wherefore should Cuckoldom be a Discredit, being deriv'd from so honourable a Root?
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Words are the weak support of cold indifference love has no language to be heard.
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Blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, and though a late, a sure reward succeeds.
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No mask like open truth to cover lies, As to go naked is the best disguise.
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No, I'm no enemy to learning it hurts not me.
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They are at the end of the gallery retired to their tea and scandal, according to their ancient custom.
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Marriage indeed may qualify the fury of his passion, but it very rarely mends a man's manners.
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Music has charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak. I've read that things inanimate have moved, and, as with living souls, have been inform'd, by magic numbers and persuasive sound.
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I am always of the opinion with the learned, if they speak first.
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Who pleases one against his will.
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Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd.
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I came up stairs into the world, for I was born in a cellar.
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Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.
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Nothing but you can lay hold of my mind, and that can lay hold of nothing but you.
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Whoever is king, is also the father of his country.
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If happiness in self-content is placed, The wise are wretched, and fools only blessed.
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I know that’s a secret, for it’s whispered everywhere.
William Congreve