Maxioms by William Congreve
Beauty is the lover's gift.
Beauty is the lover's gift.
Thy wife is a constellation of virtues; she's the moon, and thou
art the man in the moon.
Thy wife is a constellation of virtues; she's the moon, and thou
art the man in the moon.
I came up-stairs into the world; for I was born in a cellar.
I came up-stairs into the world; for I was born in a cellar.
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.
