Date: 1700, 1702

"Each busie thought, that rouls within her breast, / Labours for him; the King, when first he sicken'd, / Declar'd he should succeed him in the Throne."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"At his arrival here I'll visit him; / Whence this Advantage may at least be made, / To ford his shallow Soul."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Her thoughtful Soul, labours with some event / Of high import, which bustles like an Embryo / In its dark Room, and longs to be disclos'd."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Wise Mirza! were my Soul a Temple, fit For Gods, and Godlike Counsels to inhabit, Thee only would I choose of all Mankind, To be the Priest, still favour'd with access."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"My Son shall breathe so warm a gale of sighs, / As shall dissolve those Isicles, that hang / Like death about her heart."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Revenge, and fierce Desires of Glory, cease / To urge my Passions, master'd by her Eyes; / And only gentle Fires now warm my Breast."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Exquisite Charmer! now by Orosmades / I swear, thy each soft Accent melts my Soul."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Yet for thy Sake, thou Idol of my Heart, / (Nor will I blush to own the sacred Flame, / Thy Sighs and Vows have kindled in my Breast) / For thy lov'd Sake, spight of my boding Fears, / I'll meet the Danger which Ambition brings, / And tread one Path with thee."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Whom should we seek for Friendships but those few, / Those happy few, within whose Breasts alone, / The Footsteps of lost Virtue yet remain?"

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Forget that thought, / That jarring grates your Soul, and turns the Harmony / Of blessed Peace to curst infernal Discord."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)