More from William Congreve
Heav’n hath no rage like love to hatred turn’d, Nor Hell a fury, like a woman scorn’d.
The Mourning Bride (1697), Act III, scene viiiSay what you will, tis better to be left than never to have been loved.
The Way of the World (1700)I came up stairs into the world, for I was born in a cellar.
Love for Love (1695)
