Date: 1660

"Things that the least of drossy mixture hold, / Last longest; my Hearts flames Ætherial be, / More pure than seven times refined Gold / Than Cedar's flames: rays of a Deitie / They are."

— Pordage, Samuel (bap. 1633, d. c. 1691)

Date: 1661

"GRACE though she could have with one single dart / The stubborn Will pierc'd th'row her Steely heart."

— Pordage, Samuel (bap. 1633, d. c. 1691)

Date: 1691

"And besides who knows but the Same Observation may hold true in Men, which is in Metals, That those of the strongest and noblest Substance, are hardest to be Polisht."

— Blount, Thomas Pope, Sir (1649-1697)

Date: 1691

"So innocent is the Soul of Kainophilus, so like fair white Paper, wherein you may presently see the least blot or speck of dirt that happens to fall upon it."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"But though there is nothing in this Book I have cudgel'd my Brains about, yet I must confess, during my Prenticeship, I was a kind of Persecutor of Nature, and would fain then have chang'd the dull Lead of my Brain into finer Mettal."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"How wind ye my Hearts of Gold?"

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"As for the Loves of these Villagers, the Intriegues of their Amours are not a little remarkable, they being very pretty Animals when disguis'd with that Passion: They are Tinder to such Flames, being quickly set on fire, even by the least spark, which when it hath catch'd the Match of their Soul...

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"Sometimes he describ'd the Humors of the Greenwich Usurers, who, as he exprest it, had Hearts of Marble and Entrals of Brass."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1697

"Our Senses to the Mind while lodg'd in Clay, / Do all their various Images convey. / Things that we tast, and feel, and see, afford / The Seeds of Thought with which our Minds are stor'd."

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)

Date: 1697

"At such Reflections do's not Nature start, / And try at every Spring to touch your Heart? / Do's not soft Pity's fire begin to burn, / Do not your yearning Bowels in you turn? / In such a case Breasts arm'd with temper'd Steel / And Hearts of Marble, should impression feel."

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)