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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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William Congreve
Age: 58 †
Born: 1670
Born: January 24
Died: 1729
Died: January 19
Engineer
Librettist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Writer
Customs
According
Ancient
Ends
Custom
Gallery
Retired
Scandal
Tea

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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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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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Women are like tricks by sleight of hand, Which, to admire, we should not understand
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No mask like open truth to cover lies, As to go naked is the best disguise.
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But say what you will, 'tis better to be left than never to have been loved. To pass our youth in dull indifference, to refuse the sweets of life because they once must leave us, is as preposterous as to wish to have been born old, because we one day must be old.
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Though marriage makes man and wife one flesh, it leaves 'em still two fools.
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To find a young fellow that is neither a wit in his own eye, nor a fool in the eye of the world, is a very hard task.
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One minute gives invention to destroy What to rebuild, will a whole age employ.
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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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I always take blushing either for a sign of guilt, or of ill breeding.
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They come together like the Coroner's Inquest, to sit upon the murdered reputations of the week.
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O, nothing is more alluring than a levee from a couch in some confusion.
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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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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.
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Some by experience find those words mis-placed: At leisure married, they repent in haste.
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O fie, miss, you must not kiss and tell.
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I find we are growing serious, and then we are in great danger of being dull.
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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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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.
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