Date: 1686, 1712

One may be " to a narrow Dungeon confin'd, / A Cave that darkens and restrains [the] Mind"

— Arwaker, Edmund (c.1655-1730)

Date: 1686, 1712

"When first my Soul put on its fleshly Load, / It was Imprison'd in the dark Abode; / My Feet were Fetters, my Hands Manacles, / My Sinews Chains, and all Confinement else; / My Bones the Bars of my loath'd Prison grate; / My Tongue the Turn-key, and my Mouth the Gate."

— Arwaker, Edmund (c.1655-1730)

Date: 1686, 1712

"O! that some usual Labour were injoyn'd, / And not the Tyrant Vice enslav'd my mind! / No weight of Chains cou'd grieve my captive Hands, / Like the loath'd Drudg'ry of its base Commands."

— Arwaker, Edmund (c.1655-1730)

Date: 1686, 1712

"Thus Vice and Virtue do my Soul divide, / Like a Ship tost between the Wind and Tide."

— Arwaker, Edmund (c.1655-1730)

Date: 1692

"He has clearly overthrown all those Metaphysical Whymsies, which infected mens Brains with a Spice of Madness, whereby they feign'd a Knowledge where they had none, by making a noise with Sounds, without clear and distinct Significations."

— Molyneux, William (1656-1698)

Date: 1692

"I wou'd suspect, the Devil in her heart had stampt the sign of Vertue in her looks, that she might cheat the world, and sin more close"

— Southerne, Thomas (1659-1746)

Date: October 15, 1692

"[Locke] will allow no idea innate but such as a man brings coined in his mind like a shilling."

— King, William (1650-1729)

Date: 1692

"In what a miserable condition do we count those, in whom it hath pleased the great Contriver of the Eyes and Sight, to shut those two little Windows of the Soul?"

— Molyneux, William (1656-1698)

Date: 1692

"[T]he Explanation whereof is allowed by all men as satisfactory, 'tis this, in Tab. 41. Fig. 2. the Image a b of the Object A B is painted on the Retina inverted, and yet the Eye (or rather the Soul by means of the Eye) sees the Object erect and in its natural Posture."

— Molyneux, William (1656-1698)

Date: 1693

"When Reason with her Robes ascends the Throne, / And wisely all my scatter'd Thoughts calls home, / The Messenger is so divine, / Unto her Laws I must resign."

— Hawkshaw, Benjamin (1671/2-1738)