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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

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William Congreve
Age: 58 †
Born: 1670
Born: January 24
Died: 1729
Died: January 19
Engineer
Librettist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Writer
Mind
Flame
Love
Feds
Expires
Feeding
Sickly
Flames
Wastes
Ambition
Frailty
Waste
Fires
Fire
Joined
Self
Consuming

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There is nothing more unbecoming a man of quality than to laugh ... 'tis such a vulgar expression of the passion!
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If this be not love, it is madness, and then it is pardonable.
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Music has charms to sooth a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
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I nauseate walking 'tis a country diversion, I loathe the country.
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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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Musick has Charms to sooth a savage Breast...
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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.
William Congreve
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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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They are at the end of the gallery retired to their tea and scandal, according to their ancient custom.
William Congreve
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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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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
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There are come Critics so with Spleen diseased, They scarcely come inclining to be pleased: And sure he must have more than mortal Skill, Who please one against his Will.
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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.
William Congreve
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In my conscience I believe the baggage loves me, for she never speaks well of me herself, nor suffers any body else to rail at me.
William Congreve
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You are a woman: you must never speak what you think your words must contradict your thoughts, but your actions may contradict your words.
William Congreve
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Words are the weak support of cold indifference love has no language to be heard.
William Congreve
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A hungry wolf at all the herd will run, In hopes, through many, to make sure of one.
William Congreve
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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.
William Congreve
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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.
William Congreve
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I hope you do not think me prone to any iteration of nuptials.
William Congreve