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Blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, and though a late, a sure reward succeeds.

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
Blessing
Succeed
Succeeds
Late
Blessings
Waiting
Virtuous
Sure
Reward
Though
Rewards
Ever
Deeds
Wait

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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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They are at the end of the gallery retired to their tea and scandal, according to their ancient custom.
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He that first cries out stop thief, is often he that has stolen the treasure.
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A little scorn is alluring.
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I nauseate walking 'tis a country diversion, I loathe the country.
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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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There is in true Beauty, as in Courage, somewhat which narrow Souls cannot dare to admire.
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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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Guilt is ever at a loss, and confusion waits upon it when innocence and bold truth are always ready for expression.
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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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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.
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Thou art a retailer of phrases, and dost deal in remnants of remnants.
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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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Hannibal was a very pretty fellow in those days.
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I know that’s a secret, for it’s whispered everywhere.
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No, I'm no enemy to learning it hurts not me.
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He who closes his ears to the views of others shows little confidence in the integrity of his own views.
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O fie, miss, you must not kiss and tell.
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Nothing but you can lay hold of my mind, and that can lay hold of nothing but you.
William Congreve
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Invention flags, his brain goes muddy, And black despair succeeds brown study.
William Congreve