Date: 1698

"Such Licentious Discourse tends to no point but to stain the Imagination, to awaken Folly, and to weaken the Defences of Virtue."

— Collier, Jeremy (1650-1726)

Date: 1698

"The Matter is so Contrived that the Smut and Scum of the Thought rises uppermost; And like a Picture drawn to Sight, looks always upon the Company."

— Collier, Jeremy (1650-1726)

Date: 1698

"Enough to mud their Fancy, to tarnish their Quality, and make their Passion Scandalous."

— Collier, Jeremy (1650-1726)

Date: 1698

"He can't be assured the same Colours of Reason and Desire will last. Any little Accident from without may metamorphose his Fancy, and push him upon a new set of Thoughts."

— Collier, Jeremy (1650-1726)

Date: 1698

"He is never lost in smoak and Rapture, nor overborn with Poetick Fury; but keeps his Fancy warm and his Reason Cool at the same time."

— Collier, Jeremy (1650-1726)

Date: 1698

"This sort of Musick warms the Passions, and unlocks the Fancy, and makes it open to Pleasure like a Flower to the Sun."

— Collier, Jeremy (1650-1726)

Date: 1698

"Now why should it be in the power of a few mercenary Hands to play People out of their Senses, to run away with their Understandings, and wind their Passions about their Fingers as they list?"

— Collier, Jeremy (1650-1726)

Date: 1713

"Away the Skilful Doctor comes / Of Recipes and Med'cines full, / To check the giddy Whirl of Nature's Fires, / If so th' unruly Case requires; / Or with his Cobweb-cleansing Brooms / To sweep and clear the over-crouded Scull, / If settl'd Spirits flag, and make the Patient dull."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"But silent Musings urge the Mind to seek / Something, too high for Syllables to speak; / Till the free Soul to a compos'dness charm'd, / Finding the Elements of Rage disarm'd, / O'er all below a solemn Quiet grown, / Joys in th'inferiour World, and thinks it like her Own."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"Falsly, the Mortal Part we blame / Of our deprest, and pond'rous Frame, / Which, till the First degrading Sin / Let Thee, its dull Attendant, in, / Still with the Other did comply, / Nor clogg'd the Active Soul, dispos'd to fly, / And range the Mansions of it's native Sky."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)