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O, nothing is more alluring than a levee from a couch in some confusion.

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
Levees
Alluring
Couch
Couches
Confusion
Nothing

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Delay not till tomorrow to be wise tomorrow's sun to thee may neve rise.
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Blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, and though a late, a sure reward succeeds.
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Thou art a retailer of phrases, and dost deal in remnants of remnants.
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Love's but a frailty of the mind, When 'tis not with ambition joined.
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I know that’s a secret, for it’s whispered everywhere.
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If there's delight in love, 'Tis when I see that heart, which others bleed for, bleed for me.
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Women are like tricks by sleight of hand, Which, to admire, we should not understand
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Invention flags, his brain goes muddy, And black despair succeeds brown study.
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A woman only obliges a man to secrecy, that she may have the pleasure of telling herself.
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There is in true Beauty, as in Courage, somewhat which narrow Souls cannot dare to admire.
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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.
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Honor is a public enemy, and conscience a domestic, and he that would secure his pleasure, must pay a tribute to one and go halves with t'other.
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These articles subscribed, if I continue to endure you a little longer, I may by degrees dwindle into wife.
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All well bred persons lie - Besides, you are a woman you must never speak what you think.
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No, I'm no enemy to learning it hurts not me.
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Men are apt to offend ('tis true) where they find most goodness to forgive.
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I hope you do not think me prone to any iteration of nuptials.
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I am a fool, I know it and yet, Heaven help me, I'm poor enough to be a wit.
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If happiness in self-content is placed, The wise are wretched, and fools only blessed.
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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.
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