William Congreve (1670–1729) was an English playwright and poet. William Congreve was born in Bardsey, West Yorkshire, England. His parents were William Congreve and Mary. The family moved to London in 1672. They relocated again in 1674 to the Irish port town of Youghal where his father served as a lieutenant in the British army. Congreve spent his childhood in Ireland, where his father, a Cavalier, had settled during the reign of Charles II. Congreve was educated at Kilkenny College where he met Jonathan Swift, who would be his friend for the remainder of his life; and at Trinity College in Dublin. Upon graduation, he matriculated in the Middle Temple in London to study law, but felt himself pulled toward literature, drama, and the fashionable life. Congreve assumed the pseudonym Cleophil and went on to publish a work he had written at the approximate age of 17 called Incognita: or, Love and Duty reconcil’d in 1692. This early work gained him recognition among the men of letters and an entrance into the literary world. Artistically, he became a disciple of John Dryden whom he met through the gatherings of literary circles held at Will’s Coffeehouse in the Covent Garden District of London. John Dryden would continue to be a massive supporter of the works of Congreve throughout his life. This support would take the form of panegyrical introductions for some of Congreve’s later works.
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Delay not till tomorrow to be wise; tomorrow’s sun to thee may never rise.
—William Congreve
Topics: Procrastination, The Present
I find we are growing serious, and then we are in great danger of being dull.
—William Congreve
Topics: Conversation
A wit should no more be sincere, than a woman constant; one argues a decay of parts, as to other of beauty.
—William Congreve
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
—William Congreve
Topics: Hatred, Anger
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”.
—William Congreve
Topics: Letters
Invention flags, his brain goes muddy, and black despair succeeds brown study.
—William Congreve
Courtship to marriage, as a very witty prologue to a very dull play.
—William Congreve
Topics: Marriage
Uncertainty and expectation are the joys of life. Security is an insipid thing.
—William Congreve
Topics: Uncertainty, Risk-taking, Doubt, Security, Expectation
O, she is the antidote to desire.
—William Congreve
Topics: Insults
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.
—William Congreve
Topics: Pleasure
Grief walks upon the heels of pleasure; married in haste, we repent at leisure.
—William Congreve
Topics: Marriage
Uncertainty and expectation are the joys of life. Security is an insipid thing, through the overtaking and possessing of a wish discovers the folly of the chase.
—William Congreve
Topics: Uncertainty, Expectation
I know a lady that loves talking 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!
—William Congreve
A wit should be no more sincere than a woman constant.
—William Congreve
Topics: One liners
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
Topics: Criticism, Critics
Men are apt to offend (’tis true) where they find most goodness to forgive.
—William Congreve
Topics: Insults
There is in true beauty, as in courage, somewhat which narrow souls cannot dare to admire.
—William Congreve
Topics: Beauty
Read, read, search, and refine your appetite; learn to live upon instruction; feast your mind and mortify your flesh.—Read and take your nourishment in all your eyes; shut up your mouth, and chew the cud of understanding.
—William Congreve
Topics: Reading
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
Topics: Letters
Guilt is ever at a loss, and confusion waits upon it.
—William Congreve
Topics: Guilt
He who closes his ears to the views of others shows little confidence in the integrity of his own views.
—William Congreve
Topics: Confidence
They come together like the Coroner’s Inquest, to sit upon the murdered reputations of the week.
—William Congreve
Topics: Gossip
Music has charms to soothe the savage beast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
—William Congreve
Topics: Charm, Music
Blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, and though a late, a sure reward succeeds.
—William Congreve
Topics: Results, Blessings
No mask like open truth to cover lies,
As to go naked is the best disguise.
—William Congreve
Topics: Honesty
If there’s delight in love, ‘Tis when I see that heart, which others bleed for, bleed for me.
—William Congreve
Topics: Love
You read of but one wise man, and all that he knew was—that he knew nothing.
—William Congreve
Topics: Wisdom
‘Tis well enough for a servant to be bred at an University. But the education is a little too pedantic for a gentleman.
—William Congreve
Topics: Education, Universities
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