Date: 1723, 1725

"Tho' nothing is more base than for the Tongue or Pen to make Professions of a Passion which the Heart is a Stranger to, yet nothing is more in fashion even among those who pretend to the greatest Honour of both Sexes"

— Haywood [née Fowler], Eliza (1693?-1756)

Date: 1723, 1725

"The entire Confidence he always had of her Love and Virtue was now in as full Force as ever; and all those Notions which had crowded into his Soul at his first coming into the Chamber, and beholded so unexpected, and, indeed, so distracting a Sight, now vanish'd, and were no more remember'd"

— Haywood [née Fowler], Eliza (1693?-1756)

Date: 1723, 1725

"[A] thousand fond endearing Things crowded at once into his Soul, and press'd for Utterance!

— Haywood [née Fowler], Eliza (1693?-1756)

Date: 1723, 1725

"When once a Woman has disposed of every Thing in her Power to give, it must be Softness only, and fond Compliance with her Lover's Will, that can maintain her Empire o'er his Heart."

— Haywood [née Fowler], Eliza (1693?-1756)

Date: 1723, 1725

Fancy may stoop "to court the Aid of Sense, / Unable to conceive such Excellence!"

— Haywood [née Fowler], Eliza (1693?-1756)

Date: 1723, 1725

"AS Tapers languish at th' Approach of Day," and as the "Book of Fame" may be "Eraz'd and blotted," "So fully o'er the Soul may a lover's Influence reign, "That not one Rebel-Thought [its] Sway disdains"

— Haywood [née Fowler], Eliza (1693?-1756)

Date: 1723, 1725

"I knew not how I should effect it, though a Multitude of Inventions crowded that Moment at once into my Head, and flatter'd me with some little Hopes."

— Haywood [née Fowler], Eliza (1693?-1756)

Date: 1724

"[T]he dear, the happy Secret safe lodg'd within my Soul, shou'd take no Air, nor let in the least room for a Conjecture"

— Haywood [née Fowler], Eliza (1693?-1756)

Date: 1724, 1756

"Consult the native Dictates of thy Soul; / And if thou there discern the Maker's Hand, / Confess his Care, resign to his Command."

— Tollet, Elizabeth (1694-1754)

Date: 1724, 1756

Wit is a "rebel Folly" that must be taught "That 'tis her noblest Conquest to submit"

— Tollet, Elizabeth (1694-1754)