Date: 1700, 1705

"Sense without Wit is Flegmatick and pale, / And is all Head, forsooth, without a Tail: / Wit without Sense is Cholerick and Red, / Has Tail enough indeed, but has no Head."

— Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731)

Date: 1700, 1705

"Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one, / Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune."

— Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731)

Date: 1700, 1705

"Wit, like the Belly, if it be not fed, / Will starve the Members, and distract the Head."

— Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731)

Date: 1700, 1705

"Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive, / Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give: / Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth, / Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth."

— Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731)

Date: 1706, 1709

"We are a little Kingdom; But the Man / That chains his Rebel Will to Reasons Throne, / Forms it a large one."

— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)

Date: 1706, 1709

"But Charms so much divine / Hold a long Empire of the Heart."

— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)

Date: 1706, 1709

"In vain the Harlot Pleasure spreads her Charms / To lull his Thoughts in Luxuries fair Lap / To sensual Ease, (the Bane of little Kings, / Monarchs whose waxen Images of Souls / Are moulded into Softness) still his Mind / Wears its own Shape."

— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)

Date: 1706

"Till hard despair wring from the tyrant's soul / The iron tears out."

— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)

Date: 1706

"The Marble Heart groans with an inward Wound: / Blaspheming Souls of harden'd Steel / Shriek out amaz'd at the new Pangs they feel, / And dread the Eccho's of the Sound."

— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)

Date: 1706

"But FANCY, that unease Guest / Still holds a Lodging in our Beast; / She finds or frames Vexations still, / Her self the greatest Plague we feel."

— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)