William Congreve

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?

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.

Defer not till to-morrow to be wise,
To-morrow's Sun to thee may never rise;
Or should to-morrow read more

Defer not till to-morrow to be wise,
To-morrow's Sun to thee may never rise;
Or should to-morrow chance to cheer thy sight
With her enlivening and unlook'd for light,
How grateful will appear her dawning rays!
As favours unexpected doubly please.

Men are apt to offend ('tis true) where they find most goodness to forgive.

Men are apt to offend ('tis true) where they find most goodness to forgive.

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.