Date: 1718

"For from most Bodies, Dick, You know,/ Some little Bits ask Leave to flow; / And, as thro' these Canals They roll, / Bring up a Sample of the Whole. / Like Footmen running before Coaches, / To tell the Inn, what Lord approaches."

— Prior, Matthew (1664-1721)

Date: 1718

"The Brain contains ten thousand Cells: / In each some active Fancy dwells; / Which always is at Work, and framing / The several Follies I was naming."

— Prior, Matthew (1664-1721)

Date: 1718

"Whilst, as my System says, the Mind / Is to these upper Rooms confin'd."

— Prior, Matthew (1664-1721)

Date: 1720

"Large is my forehead made, not wond'rous fair, / But room enough for all the Muses there."

— Sansom, Martha [née Fowke] (1690-1736)

Date: 1722

"[W]ho can tell / How each [image] awaken'd from its little cell / Starts forth, and how the soul's command it hears / And soon on fancy's theatre appears?"

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)

Date: 1723

"The Cells, and little Lodgings, Thou canst see / In Mem'ry's Hoards and secret Treasury; / Dost the dark Cave of each Idea spy, / And see'st how rang'd the crouded Lodgers lye; / How some, when beckon'd by the Soul, awake, / While peaceful Rest their uncall'd Neighbours take."

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)

Date: 1724

"For Nature by fix'd Laws has wisely join'd / The bright Ideas of the conscious Mind / To Motions of the liquid spirit'ous Train, / Thro' previous Traces of the humid Brain; / These, when the Soul by drowsy Sleep oppress'd / Into her private Cell retires to Rest, / Thro' beaten Paths their wand'r...

— Needler, Henry (1690-1718); Duncombe, William (1690-1769)

Date: 1737

"Souls for ever live: / But often their old Habitations leave, / To dwell in new; which them, as Guests, receive."

— Baker, Henry (1698-1774)

Date: October, 1739

"Bid Fancy quit her fairy cell, / In all her colours drest / While prompt her sallies to control, / Reason, the judge, recalls the soul / To Truth's severest test."

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)

Date: 1741

"The best room in my house you [the mind] have seized for your own, / And turned the whole tenement quite upside down, / While you hourly call in a disorderly crew / Of vagabond rogues, who have nothing to do / But to run in and out, hurry-scurry, and keep / Such a horrible uproar, I can't get to...

— Carter, Elizabeth (1717-1806)