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Heav'n has no rage, like love to hatred turn'd.
Nor Hell a fury, like a woman scorn'd.
: The Mourning Bride
I confess freely to you, I could never look long upon a monkey, without very mortifying reflections.: Letters upon Several Occasions
SHARPER: Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure:
Marry'd in haste, we may repent at leisure.
SETTER: Some by experience find those words misplac'd:
At leisure marry'd, they repent in haste.: The Old Bachelor
Music has charms to soothe a savage breast,
To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
: The Mourning Bride
I know that's a secret, for it's whispered everywhere.: Love for Love