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)

Date: 1691

"If then the Medium's false [i.e., the senses], thrô which Arts go, / How can we hope the genuine Truth to know? / The Water pure and clear i'th' Fountain flows; / But with ill Mixtures doth its Nature lose; / And tasts of every Soil, thrô which it goes."

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

Date: 1692

"This my lost Treasure to restore; / Thy magic vertues all apply, / Set up again my Bank-rupt memory. / Search every Cell and corner of my brain, / And bring my Fugitive again."

— Norris, John (1657-1712)

Date: 1692

"The tender age was pliant to command; / Like wax it yielded to the forming hand: / True to the artificer, the laboured mind / With ease was pious, generous, just, and kind."

— Dryden, John (1631-1700)