Date: 1701

"Conceit, like Wind, has seiz'd the empty Head, and Men convulsively strive to utter what they want a Fund of Brains to yeild."

— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)

Date: 1701

"Confusions! Noises! That teaze Retirement, and only eccho in an empty Head."

— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)

Date: 1702

"Do you understand how your Soul ... preserves its Treasure of Ideas, to produce them at pleasure"?

— Trotter, Catherine, later Cockburn, (1674?-1749)

Date: 1702

But if ideas "remain in the Soul when I was only thinking of a Horse, whereever they are bestow'd, it may be presum'd, there is room for that one idea more without thrusting out another to give it place: and when that one is among them, I see no more reason why they must be all new imprest, than ...

— Trotter, Catherine, later Cockburn, (1674?-1749)

Date: 1702

"When Friends converse together Face to Face; / Then freely they Unbosom their Requests, / And treasure Secrets in each others Breasts, / As in firm Cabinets, close lock'd, where none / Can find the Key, but only each his own."

— Mollineux [née Southworth], Mary (1651-1695)

Date: 1703

"My Father! oh let me unlade my Breast, / Pour out the fullness of my Soul before you, / Show ev'ry tender, ev'ry grateful Thought, / This wond'rous Goodness stirs."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"It were unjust, no let me spare my Friend, / Lock up the fatal Secret in my Breast, / Nor tell him that which will undo his Quiet."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"'Tis well! these Solemn Sounds, this Pomp of Horror, / Are fit to feed the Frenzy in my Soul, / Here's room for Meditation, ev'n to Madness, / 'Till the Mind burst with Thinking."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"Because my Soul was rudely drawn from yours; / A poor imperfect Copy of my Father, / Where Goodness, and the strength of manly Virtue, / Was thinly planted, and the idle Void / Fill'd up with light Belief, and easie Fondness; / It was, because I lov'd, and was a Woman."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

Souls are "Like Tapers hid in Urns they shine. / The Life of Sense and Growth we only see, / Which Beasts enjoy as well as we"

— Chudleigh [née Lee], Mary, Lady Chudleigh (bap. 1656, d. 1710)