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Aphra Behn

b: Harbledown, England, Jul 10, 1640

d: London, England, Apr 16, 1689

English. Author. Dramatist. First English woman to support herself by writing; most popular play was The Rover, 1677.

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... faith, Sir, we are here to Day, and gone to Morrow.

... faith, Sir, we are here to Day, and gone to Morrow.

And what they wish is soon believ'd.

Ashamed and angry to be undeceived!

Come away; poverty's catching.

Each moment of a happy lover's hour is worth an age of dull and common life.

Enough to undo the amorous world.

Had damned him to the hell of impotence.

If things on earth may be to heaven resembled, It must be love, pure, constant, undissembled.

Is worth an hour of dully living on.

It must be love, pure, constant, undissembled.

Love ceases to be a pleasure when it ceases to be a secret.

Money speaks sense in a language all nations understand.

No friend to Love like a long voyage at sea.

Now judge you what a condition poor England is in: for my part I look upon it as a lost nation.

Of all that writ, he was the wisest bard, who spoke this mighty truth – He that knew all that ever learning writ, Knew only this – that he knew nothing yet.

Oh, what a dear ravishing thing is the beginning of an amour!

One hour of right-down love/is worth an age of dully living on.

Patience is a flatterer, sir and an ass, sir.

Sure, I rose the wrong way today, I have had such damn'd ill luck every way.

Than a new Play, whose author is unknown.

That pay their Homage to my Eyes.

That perfect tranquillity of life, which is nowhere to be found but in retreat, a faithful friend and a good library.

The rhetoric of love is half-breath'd, interrupted words, languishing eyes, flattering speeches, broken sighs, pressing the hand, and falling tears: ah, how do they not persuade, how do they not charm and conquer.

There is no sinner like a young saint.

Variety is the soul of pleasure.

We sigh, and kiss: I waked, and all was done.

Yet if thou didst but know how little wit governs this mighty universe.