Date: 1694

On may achieve a "noble conquest" over his own passions

— D'Urfey, Thomas (1653?-1723)

Date: 1704

"But Love, resistless Love my Soul invades; / Discretion this, Affection that perswades."

— Tate, Nahum (c. 1652-1715)

Date: 1717

Beauty is not free from imposture: "Our shining Picts with borrow'd lustre reign, / And o'er our hearts felonious conquests gain"

— Welsted, Leonard (1688-1747)

Date: April 18, 1721

"One Argument is ballanc'd by another, / And Reason Reason meets in doubtful Fight, / And Proofs are countermin'd by equal Proofs. / No more I'll bear this Battel of the Mind, / This inward Anarchy."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"Not the gross act alone employs her pen; / She reconnoitres Fancy's airy band, / A watchful foe! the formidable spy, / Listening, o'erhears the whispers of our camp; / Our dawning purposes of heart explores, / And steals our embryos of iniquity."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"Speech ventilates our intellectual fire; / Speech burnishes our mental magazine, / Brightens for ornament, and whets for use."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1743

"Pleasure and Pride, by nature mortal foes, / At war eternal which in man shall reign, / By Wit's address, patch up a fatal peace, / And hand in hand lead on the rank debauch, / From rank refined to delicate and gay."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1743

"Nor is it strange; light, motion, concourse, noise, / All scatter us abroad; Thought, outward-bound, / Neglectful of our home-affairs, flies off / In fume and dissipation, quits her charge, / And leaves the breast unguarded to the foe."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1744

""Reason with Inclination why at war? / Why sense of guilt? Why Conscience up in arms?"

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1745

"Imagination is the Paphian shop, / Where feeble Happiness, like Vulcan, lame, / Bids foul Ideas, in their dark recess, / And hot as hell, (which kindled the black fires,) / With wanton art, those fatal arrows form / Which murder all thy time, health, wealth, and fame."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)