William Congreve

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.

And the prettiest foot! Oh, if a man could but fasten his eyes
to her feet, as they steal read more

And the prettiest foot! Oh, if a man could but fasten his eyes
to her feet, as they steal in and out, and play at bo-peep under
her petticoats!

What, wouldst thou have me turn pelican, and feed thee out of my
own vitals?

What, wouldst thou have me turn pelican, and feed thee out of my
own vitals?

I find we are growing serious, and then we are in great danger of
being dull.

I find we are growing serious, and then we are in great danger of
being dull.

By magic numbers and persuasive sound.

By magic numbers and persuasive sound.