Date: 1691

"Why then shou'd I not pull up the stake, or get my Lock and Chain off, and scamper away in the interminable Fields of the invisible World."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"But when he did find any Servant unlike me, and altogether incorrigible, so that he found it impossible to wash the Blackamore white, and whom he could never induce by Confession or Amendment to scowr out the Spots of his Soul, he'd e'ne fairly wash his hands of him, and turn him a grazing among...

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"Lastly, [sin] grows into a strong Man, and doth of it self run up and down our Little World, invade all the Faculties of Soul and Body, which are at last made the Instruments of Satan to act and fulfill it."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"And shou'd an Evangelist, with an Angel at his Elbow, have told me that Goddess of my Soul had so much as one speck of Deformity, one single Mole, either in Body or Mind, I shou'd have said--By your leave, Mr. Evangelist,--I must suspend my Faith."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"Instead of those sage and grave Notions that used to fill my Head, 'twas cramm'd top full of Whimseys and Whirligigs, by the vehement agitation of my distemper'd Fancy, as ever a Carkase-shell with Instruments of Death and Murder."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"The Tongue is connexed by Veins to the Brain and Heart, by which Nature teacheth us, that it is to be govern'd by the Intellect, whose seat is in the head, so that it may agree with the Heart."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"I wear my Wit in my Belly, and my Guts in my Head, a very Natural might bob my Brains, my Pia-mater is not worth the ninth part of a Sparrow."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

'My very Brains (as Manichæus's Skin) are stuff'd with Chaff."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"Learning lies deep, and short is Reason's Line, / And weakly do we guess at things Divine!"

— Heyrick, Thomas (bap. 1649. d. 1694)

Date: 1691

The Soul's a Particle of Heavenly fire, / And boldly doth to every thing aspire: / But yet how low Her lofty Flights do fall; / When She attempts the Wonders of this Ball!"

— Heyrick, Thomas (bap. 1649. d. 1694)