Date: 1683

" How does Reason rule the Rost. / When Lasciviousness rides Post?"

— Dixon, Robert (1614/15-1688).

Date: 1684

"Much like th' ore-fond, tormented Lover, / Whose Travels Scorns alone discover / To th' chased Stag? Their Dwellings bear / Same form, sad-fortun'd Both appear, / Wilderness round his Fancy shows, / Which wild, disorder'd Thoughts compose; / Hunted by Dogs each strong for Scent / (Grief, Rage, D...

— Harington, John (1627-1700)

Date: 1684

"Those dreadful Horns resemble well / (Since sounding forth their mortal Knell) / Those sharp disdainful Checks that came / From his too coy, severer Dame: / Found terribler, more shrill beside, / Through Fancy's Eccho's multiply'd."

— Harington, John (1627-1700)

Date: 1684

"Thus, when (confounded Thoughts) sad Race, / So long maintain'd, th' unhappy Chase, / As faintest, gasping Hopes supply / With broken Breath, when 'midst the Cry, / No Comfort's cooler Stream relieving, / Nor Reason's Bay, at last help giving; / With Stag-like Fate he falling dyes, / Scorn's Tri...

— Harington, John (1627-1700)

Date: 1687

The will may spur a lover on

— Ayres, Philip (1638-1712)

Date: 1688

"From out the Cavern of the Breast proceeds [...] Hell-born Envy shews her hellish kind, / And Vulture-like upon the Actions feed."

— Scot, Walter (b. 1613, d. in or after 1688)

Date: 1689

The passion ambition "'Tis the minds Wolf, a strange Disease, / That ev'n Saciety can't appease"

— Cotton, Charles (1630-1687)

Date: 1689, 1716

"'What Confidence can you in them repose, / 'Who e're they serve you, all their Value lose? / 'Who once enslave their Conscience to their Lust, / 'Have lost their Reins, and can no more be Just."

— Montagu, Charles, 1st Earl of Halifax (1661-1715)

Date: 1691

"What Energy doth thrô his Vitals move; / What Magick Charm doth stirr him up to Love? / When Thoughts on winged Particles advance, / When piercing Looks the Lover's mutually entrance, / And their Souls on the fiery Atoms dance?"

— Heyrick, Thomas (bap. 1649. d. 1694)

Date: 1693

"But why must those be thought to scape, that feel / Those Rods of Scorpions, and those Whips of Steel / Which Conscience shakes, when she with Rage controuls, / And spreads Amazing Terrors through their Souls?"

— Dryden, John (1631-1700) [Poem ascribed to]