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I nauseate walking 'tis a country diversion, I loathe the country.
William Congreve
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William Congreve
Age: 58 †
Born: 1670
Born: January 24
Died: 1729
Died: January 19
Engineer
Librettist
Playwright
Poet
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Writer
Diversion
Loathe
Walking
Country
More quotes by William Congreve
Defer not till to-morrow to be wise, To-morrow's Sun to thee may never rise Or should to-morrow chance to cheer thy sight With her enlivening and unlook'd for light, How grateful will appear her dawning rays! As favours unexpected doubly please.
William Congreve
These articles subscribed, if I continue to endure you a little longer, I may by degrees dwindle into wife.
William Congreve
Mr Witwould: Pray, madam, do you pin up your hair with all your letters? I find I must keep copies. Mrs Millamant: Only with those in verse.... I never pin up my hair with prose.
William Congreve
No mask like open truth to cover lies, As to go naked is the best disguise.
William Congreve
He that first cries out stop thief, is often he that has stolen the treasure.
William Congreve
Invention flags, his brain goes muddy, And black despair succeeds brown study.
William Congreve
They come together like the Coroner's Inquest, to sit upon the murdered reputations of the week.
William Congreve
I always take blushing either for a sign of guilt, or of ill breeding.
William Congreve
Love's but the frailty of the mind, When 'tis not with ambition joined A sickly flame, which if not fed expires And feeding, wastes in self-consuming fires.
William Congreve
I hope you do not think me prone to any iteration of nuptials.
William Congreve
Marriage is honourable, as you say and if so, wherefore should Cuckoldom be a Discredit, being deriv'd from so honourable a Root?
William Congreve
Some by experience find those words mis-placed: At leisure married, they repent in haste.
William Congreve
Love's but a frailty of the mind, When 'tis not with ambition joined.
William Congreve
Turn pimp, flatterer, quack, lawyer, parson, be chaplain to an atheist, or stallion to an old woman, anything but a poet for a poet is worse, more servile, timorous and fawning than any I have named.
William Congreve
O, she is the antidote to desire.
William Congreve
I confess freely to you, I could never look long upon a monkey, without very mortifying reflections.
William Congreve
A wit should no more be sincere, than a woman constant one argues a decay of parts, as to other of beauty.
William Congreve
Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.
William Congreve
If this be not love, it is madness, and then it is pardonable.
William Congreve
Courtship is to marriage, as a very witty prologue to a very dull play.
William Congreve