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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

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William Congreve
Age: 58 †
Born: 1670
Born: January 24
Died: 1729
Died: January 19
Engineer
Librettist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Writer
Hair
Pins
Keep
Verses
Find
Copies
Must
Prose
Never
Pray
Letters
Praying
Madam
Poetry
Verse

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Though marriage makes man and wife one flesh, it leaves 'em still two fools.
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O, she is the antidote to desire.
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Musick has Charms to sooth a savage Breast...
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No mask like open truth to cover lies, As to go naked is the best disguise.
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A wit should no more be sincere, than a woman constant one argues a decay of parts, as to other of beauty.
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A little scorn is alluring.
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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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No, I'm no enemy to learning it hurts not me.
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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.
William Congreve
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'Tis well enough for a servant to be bred at an University. But the education is a little too pedantic for a gentleman.
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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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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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How hard a thing 'twould be to please you all.
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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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If there's delight in love, 'Tis when I see that heart, which others bleed for, bleed for me.
William Congreve
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Whoever is king, is also the father of his country.
William Congreve
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I nauseate walking 'tis a country diversion, I loathe the country.
William Congreve
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Thus in this sad, but oh, too pleasing state! my soul can fix upon nothing but thee thee it contemplates, admires, adores, nay depends on, trusts on you alone.
William Congreve
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Fear comes from uncertainty. When we are absolutely certain, whether of our worth or worthlessness, we are almost impervious to fear.
William Congreve
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Some by experience find those words mis-placed: At leisure married, they repent in haste.
William Congreve