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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
Scandal
Tea
Customs
According
Ancient
Ends
Custom
Gallery
Retired

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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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It is the business of a comic poet to paint the vices and follies of human kind.
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Turn pimp, flatterer, quack, lawyer, parson, be chaplain to an atheist, or stallion to an old woman, anything but a poet for a poet is worse, more servile, timorous and fawning than any I have named.
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Words are the weak support of cold indifference love has no language to be heard.
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Nothing but you can lay hold of my mind, and that can lay hold of nothing but you.
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Men are apt to offend ('tis true) where they find most goodness to forgive.
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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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If happiness in self-content is placed, The wise are wretched, and fools only blessed.
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I know a lady that loves to talk so incessantly, she won't give an echo fair play she has that everlasting rotation of tongue that an echo must wait till she dies before it can catch her last words!
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Wit must be foiled by wit: cut a diamond with a diamond.
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Beauty is the lover's gift.
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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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Uncertainty and expectation are the joys of life. Security is an insipid thing.
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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.
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How hard a thing 'twould be to please you all.
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Delay not till tomorrow to be wise tomorrow's sun to thee may neve rise.
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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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Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.
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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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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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