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Date: 1693
"Some Glances of a State that's past I find, / Take up the Corners of my thoughtful Mind, / As cover'd Embers when they're blown, create / A Flame, and represent my former State."
preview | full record— Hawkshaw, Benjamin (1671/2-1738)
Date: 1693
"Musick alone inflames my drooping Mind; / Nay, she would mount her Wings, and fly away, / Not be confin'd to this dull Lump of Clay, / Did not the Charms of Musick most divine / Unite, and things so wide, so close combine."
preview | full record— Hawkshaw, Benjamin (1671/2-1738)
Date: 1693
"When I did first this charming object view, / Her Image in my Mind took Root & grew."
preview | full record— Hawkshaw, Benjamin (1671/2-1738)
Date: 1693
"From her blest Heart there flows a Line, / Which Nature made, and grapples mine. / Secret as that which tyes the Mind, / When to the Body 'tis confin'd"
preview | full record— Hawkshaw, Benjamin (1671/2-1738)
Date: 1693
"Would she but cast such quickning Beams on me, / I should her living Image be; / Look when she pleas'd, her Picture she would find / Deeply imprinted in my Mind."
preview | full record— Hawkshaw, Benjamin (1671/2-1738)
Date: 1695
"His Pleasure sway'd the Empire of her mind."
preview | full record— Arwaker, Edmund (c.1655-1730)
Date: 1696
"Tho' she be / A Slave, her Mind is free, and shou'd consent."
preview | full record— Southerne, Thomas (1659-1746)
Date: 1696
"Nay, then it must be she: it is Imoinda: My Heart confesses her, and leaps for joy, / To welcome her to her own Empire here."
preview | full record— Southerne, Thomas (1659-1746)
Date: 1696
"Take, take me all: enquire into my heart, / (You know the way to every secret there) / My Heart, the sacred treasury of Love: / And if, in absence, I have mis-employ'd / A Mite from the rich store: if I have spent / A Wish, a Sigh, but what I sent to you: / May I be curst to wish, and sigh in va...
preview | full record— Southerne, Thomas (1659-1746)
Date: 1704
"Erect your schemes with as much method and skill as you please; yet, if the materials be nothing but dirt, spun out of your own entrails (the guts of modern brains), the edifice will conclude at last in a cobweb; the duration of which, like that of other spiders’ webs, may be imputed to their be...
preview | full record— Swift, Jonathan (1667-1745)
