Quotes by William Congreve
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Uncertainty and expectation are the joys of life.
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.
Courtship to marriage, as a very witty prologue to a very dull play.
Blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, and though a late, a sure reward succeeds.
Defer not till tomorrow to be wise, tomorrow's sun to thee may never rise.
For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, And though a late, a sure reward succeeds.
A hungry wolf at all the herd will run, In hopes, through many, to make sure of one
I nauseate walking; 'tis a country diversion; I loathe the country
Music has charms to soothe the savage breast To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure: Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.
He that first cries out stop thief, is often he that has stolen the treasure.
I hope you do not think me prone to an iteration of nuptials.
Men are apt to offend ('tis true) where they find most goodness to forgive.
Whom she refuses, she treats still / With so much sweet behaviour, / That her refusal, through her skill, / Looks almost like a favour.
I know that’s a secret, for it’s whispered everywhere.
Every man plays the fool once in his lif marry is playing the fool all one's life, but to marry is to playing the fool all one's life long.
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
I came upstairs into the world for I was born in a cellar.
Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak. N.B.: This quote is commonly misquoted as savage beast.
You are all camphire and frankincense, all chastity and odour.
'Tis well enough for a servant to be bred at an University. But the education is a little too pedantic for a gentleman.
Invention flags, his brain goes muddy, and black despair succeeds brown study.
All ambitions are lawful except those which climb upward on the miseries or credulities of mankind.
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
For 'tis some virtue, virtue to commend.
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