Date: 1715

"But now you'll enquire, can they all quarter there? / Why, Madam, my Heart's large enough, never fear. / There's room for my Phillis, / And soft Amarillis: / And Cælia the Fair, / Who need not despair / Of a good Lodging there:"

— Brown, Thomas (bap. 1663, d. 1704)

Date: 1715

"No crafty Machiavelian Arts possest / The pious Closets of his Royal Breast"

— Ward, Edward (1667-1731)

Date: 1715

"Or can they ought that's mean, when God has set / A Jewel in their earthly Cabinet?"

— Wesley, Samuel, The Elder (bap. 1662, d. 1735)

Date: 1715

"Nature to Man's Breast has made no Windows, / To show us what they act within Doors."

— Centlivre [née Freeman; other married name Carroll], Susanna (bap. 1669?, d. 1723)

Date: 1715

"Thy Virtues flash, / They break at once on my astonish'd Soul; / As if the Curtains of the Dark were drawn, / To let in Day at Midnight."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1715

"Speech was given to Man as the Image and Interpreter of the Soul: It is anime index & speculum, the Messenger of the Heart, the Gate by which all that is within issues forth, and comes into open View."

— Bulstrode, Richard, Sir (1610-1711)

Date: 1716

"If midst of Thoughts that crowd into thy Mind, / The Care of absent Friends a Place can find, / Retire a while from Warlike Noise and Throng / Into thy inmost Tent, and listen to my Song."

— Monck [née Molesworth], Mary (1677?-1715)

Date: 1716

"Led on by Reason, that blind Guide o'th'Mind. / Thro Labyrinths of Thought, and envious Ways, / It will conduct you to the fatal Place, / And leave you there."

— Anonymous

Date: August 18, 1716; 1735

"If Momus’s project had taken, of having windows in our breasts, I should be for carrying it further, and making those windows casements: that while a man showed his heart to all the world, he might do something more for his friends, e’en take it out, and trust to their handling."

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)

Date: 1717

"I render back the Treasure of thy Heart: / When in some new fair Breast it finds a Room, And I shall lie neglected in my Tomb; / Remember, oh! remember, the fair She / Can never love thee, darling Youth! like me."

— Behn, Aphra (1640?-1689)