Date: 1747-8

"But the over-refinement of Platonic sentiments always sinks into the dross and feces of that Passion"

— Richardson, Samuel (bap. 1689, d. 1761)

Date: 1758

"COME, Epictetus, arm my breast / With thy impenetrable steel, / No more the wounds of grief to feel, / Nor mourn, by others' woes deprest."

— Mulso [later Chapone], Hester (1727-1801)

Date: 1764, 1773

"But 'tis not Gomez, 'tis not he whose heart / Is crusted o'er with dross, whose callous mind / Is senseless as his gold."

— Shenstone, William (1714-1763)

Date: 1788

"When the sharp iron wounds his inmost soul, / And his strain'd eyes in burning anguish roll; / Will the parch'd negro find, ere he expire, / No pain in hunger, and no heat in fire?"

— More, Hannah (1745-1833)

Date: 1789

"'Is there a Man, who, wealthy to no end, / 'Ne'er knew the common wish to be a Friend, / 'Whose callous Heart's to all Compassion steel'd?"

— Combe, William (1742 -1823)