Date: 1687

"What Humane Passion does with Tears implore, / The Intellect Enjoys, when 'tis in Love / With the Eternal Soul, which here does move / In Mortal Closet, where 'tis kept in Store"

— Ayres, Philip (1638-1712)

Date: 1687

"Our Souls are in one mutual Knot combin'd, / Not Common Passion, Dull and Unrefin'd"

— Ayres, Philip (1638-1712)

Date: 1687

"Yet sure we think 'em sensless stories, / The pageantry of some distempered Head, / Which fancies Pencil did delineate, / The broken visions of the living when they dream'd 'oth' dead."

— Rawlet, John (bap. 1642, d. 1686)

Date: 1687

"For whatsoe're the mighty Men of Sense, / Those skulls of Axiome and Philosophy, / By reasons Telescope pretend t' evince, / Beyond this World we can no other see"

— Rawlet, John (bap. 1642, d. 1686)

Date: 1687

"So crowds of anxious Thoughts on ev'ry side, / Invade my Soul."

— Ayres, Philip (1638-1712)

Date: 1687

"Ah Cynthia! That the blasts of Sighs I vent, / Could ease my Breast of cloudy Discontent, / Which still with fresh Assaults renews my Pain."

— Ayres, Philip (1638-1712)

Date: 1687

"His loveliness my Soul hath prepossest, / And left no room for any other guest:"

— Rawlet, John (bap. 1642, d. 1686)

Date: 1687

"Conscience is the Royalty and Prerogative of every Private man. He is absolute in his own Breast, and accountable to no Earthly Power, for that which passes only betwixt God and Him."

— Dryden, John (1631-1700)

Date: w. 1687 [published 1907]

"Yet potent Nature frankly has bestow'd / Such various gifts amongst the mingl'd Crowd, */ That I believe, the dullest of the kind, / Wou'd he but Husband and Manure his Mind,* / Might find some Exce'llence there, which well-improv'd / At home might make him Pleas'd, in public Lov'd."

— Prior, Matthew (1664-1721)

Date: 1687

"At this enrag'd, the injur'd Deity / Chose out the best of his Artillery, / And in a blooming Virgin's Dove-like Eyes / He planted his Victorious Batteries; / (Phillis her Name, the best of Woman-kind, / Could Love have gain'd the Empire of her Mind) / These shot so furiously against my Heart, /...

— Cutts, John, Baron Cutts of Gowran (1660/1-1707)