Date: 1715

"Tho' sure the Loss / Wou'd wound me to the Heart."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1715

"Thy gentle Temper, / Is form'd with Passions mixt in due Proportion, / Where no one overbears nor plays the Tyrant, / But join in Nature's Business, and thy Happiness: / While mine disdaining Reason and her Laws, / Like all thou can'st imagine wild and furious, / Now drive me head-long on, now w...

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1715

"I'll summon all my Reason and my Duty, / To sooth this Storm within, and frame my Heart, / To yield Obedience to my noble Parents."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1715

"My Fancy palls, and takes Distast at Pleasure; / My Soul grows out of Tune, it loaths the World, / Sickens at all the Noise and Folly of it."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1715

"Oh! Pembroke, 'tis in vain to hide from thee; / For thou hast look'd into my artless Bosom, / And seen at once the Hurry of my Soul."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1715

I have a Thought--but wherefore said I one, / I have a thousand Thoughts all up in Arms, / Like populous Towns disturb'd at dead of Night, / That mixt in Darkness bustle to and fro, / As if their Business were to make Confusion.

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1715

"My Soul is up in Arms, my injur'd Honour, / Impatient of the Wrong, calls for Revenge."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1715

"Let thy Heart kindle with the highest Hopes, / Expand thy Bosom, let thy Soul inlarg'd, / Make Room to entertain the coming Glory, / For Majesty and Purple Greatness court thee, / Homage and low Subjection wait."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1715

"Yes, my lov'd Lord, my Soul is mov'd, like Thine, / At ev'ry Danger which Invades our England; / My cold Heart kindles at the great Occasion, / And could be more than Man, in her Defence."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1715

"Read there the fatal Purpose of thy Foe, / A Thought which Wounds my Soul with Shame and Horror."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)