Such subtle Covenants shall be made,Till Peace it self is War in Masquerade.
Great souls forgive not injuries till time has put their enemies within their power, that they may show forgiveness is their own.
If passion rules, how weak does reason prove!
None are so busy as the fool and the knave.
When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.
To so perverse a sex all grace is vain.