Sir George Etherege

(1635-1691 / England)

Sir George Etherege
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Sir George Etherege (1635- 10 May 1692,) was an English dramatist. He wrote the plays The Comical Revenge or, Love in a Tub in 1664, She Would if She Could in 1668, and The Man of Mode or, Sir Fopling Flutter in 1676.

George Etherege was born in Maidenhead, Berkshire, around 1636, to George Etherege and Mary Powney, as the eldest of six children. Educated at Lord Williams's School where a school building was later named after him, he was also rumored to have been educated at Cambridge as well; however, John Dennis assures that to his certain knowledge he understood neither Greek nor Latin, thus raising doubts that he could hardly have been there. He served as apprentice to a ... more »

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  • ''When love grows diseased, the best thing we can do is to put it to a violent death; I cannot endure the torture of a lingering and consumptive passion.''
    George Etherege (1635-1691), British dramatist, diplomat. Dorimant, in The Man of Mode, act 2, sc. 2 (1676).
  • ''Writing, madam, 's a mechanic part of wit! A gentleman should never go beyond a song or a billet.''
    George Etherege (1635-1691), British dramatist, diplomat. Sir Fopling, in The Man of Mode, act 4, sc. 1 (1676).
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Comments about Sir George Etherege

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  • Rookie Juan De Dios Torralbo (4/21/2008 4:24:00 AM)

    Among the COURT WITS' poetry, what is the role of Etherege?
    Perhaps, his poetical legacy is not of long-range impact, but what about... if he is compared to Sedley's 'Not, Celya [...]', Sackville's 'Dorinda's sparkling wit [...]', even Wilmot's poems?

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Best Poem of Sir George Etherege

To A Lady Asking Him How Long He Would Love Her

IT is not, Celia, in our power
   To say how long our love will last;
It may be we within this hour
   May lose those joys we now do taste;
The Blessed, that immortal be,
From change in love are only free.

Then since we mortal lovers are,
   Ask not how long our love will last;
But while it does, let us take care
   Each minute be with pleasure past:
Were it not madness to deny
To live because we're sure to die?

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