William Congreve Quotes

Heav'n has no Rage like Love to Hatred turn'd, Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd.
William Congreve (1670-1729), British dramatist. Zara, in The Mourning Bride, act 3 (1697).
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Music has charms to soothe a savage breast, To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
William Congreve (1670-1729), British dramatist. Almeria, in The Mourning Bride, act 1, sc. 1 (1697). Opening lines of play.
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Invention flags, his brain goes muddy, And black despair succeeds brown study.
William Congreve (1670-1729), British dramatist. An Impossible Thing.
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I find we are growing serious, and then we are in great danger of being dull.
William Congreve (1670-1729), British dramatist. Araminta, in The Old Bachelor, act 2, sc. 2 (1693). The conversation turns on the subject of love.
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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.
William Congreve (1670-1729), British dramatist. Bellmour, in The Old Bachelor, act 1, sc. 1. Said of Belinda.
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They come together like the Coroner's Inquest, to sit upon the murdered reputations of the week.
William Congreve (1670-1729), British dramatist. Fainall, in The Way of the World, act 1, sc. 1 (1700).
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False though she be to me and Love, I'll ne'er pursue Revenge; For still the Charmer I approve, Tho' I deplore her change.
William Congreve (1670-1729), British poet. False Though She Be (l. 1-4). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.
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I nauseate walking; 'tis a country diversion; I loathe the country.
William Congreve (1670-1729), British dramatist. Mrs. Millamant, in The Way of the World, act 4, sc. 4 (1700).
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Pious Selinda goes to prayers, If I but ask the favour; And yet the tender fool's in tears, When she believes I'll leave her. Would I were free from this restraint, Or else had hopes to win her; Would she would make of me a saint, Or I of her a sinner.
William Congreve (1670-1729), British poet. Pious Selinda (l. 1-8). . . New Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1950. Helen Gardner, ed. (1972) Oxford University Press.
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Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure: Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.
William Congreve (1670-1729), British dramatist. Sharper, in The Old Bachelor, act 5, sc. 1 (1693). to which Setter replies, "Some by experience find those words misplaced: At leisure married, they repent in haste."
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