William Congreve

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turn'd,
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turn'd,
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.

Music hath charm to soothe a savage breast, To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.

Music hath charm to soothe a savage breast, To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.

To converse with Scandal is to play at Losing Loadum, you must
lose a good name to him, before read more

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.

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.

Uncertainty and expectation are the joys of life. Security is an insipid thing, through the overtaking and possessing of a read more

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.