Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned, - William Congreve

For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, And though late, a sure reward succeeds.

For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds,
And though a late, a sure reward succeeds.

But say what you will, 'tis better to be left than never to have been loved. To pass our youth in dull indifference, to refuse the sweets of life because they once must leave us, is as preposterous as to wish to have been born old, because we one day must be old.