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If happiness in self-content is placed, The wise are wretched, and fools only blessed.
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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Placed
Fools
Content
Blessed
Fool
Wise
Happiness
Complacency
Self
Wretched
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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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If this be not love, it is madness, and then it is pardonable.
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Hannibal was a very pretty fellow in those days.
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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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Blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, and though a late, a sure reward succeeds.
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These articles subscribed, if I continue to endure you a little longer, I may by degrees dwindle into wife.
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Women are like tricks by sleight of hand, Which, to admire, we should not understand
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I always take blushing either for a sign of guilt, or of ill breeding.
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I know that’s a secret, for it’s whispered everywhere.
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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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Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.
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I nauseate walking 'tis a country diversion, I loathe the country.
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Men are apt to offend ('tis true) where they find most goodness to forgive.
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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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I am always of the opinion with the learned, if they speak first.
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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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Music has charms to sooth a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
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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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I confess freely to you, I could never look long upon a monkey, without very mortifying reflections.
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A little scorn is alluring.
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