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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
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Writer
Late
Blessings
Waiting
Virtuous
Sure
Reward
Though
Rewards
Ever
Deeds
Wait
Blessing
Succeed
Succeeds
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There are times when sense may be unseasonable, as well as truth.
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I came up stairs into the world, for I was born in a cellar.
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I know that’s a secret, for it’s whispered everywhere.
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'Tis well enough for a servant to be bred at an University. But the education is a little too pedantic for a gentleman.
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Music has charms to sooth a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
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O, she is the antidote to desire.
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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.
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Who pleases one against his will.
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Musick has Charms to sooth a savage Breast...
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Invention flags, his brain goes muddy, And black despair succeeds brown study.
William Congreve
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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He who closes his ears to the views of others shows little confidence in the integrity of his own views.
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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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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.
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Women like flames have a destroying power never to be quenched till they themselves devour.
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Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd.
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Women are like tricks by sleight of hand, Which, to admire, we should not understand
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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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I am a fool, I know it and yet, Heaven help me, I'm poor enough to be a wit.
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O, nothing is more alluring than a levee from a couch in some confusion.
William Congreve