Date: 1689

And yet there is, there is one prize / Lock'd in an adamantine Breast; / Storm that then, Love, if thou be'st wise, / A Conquest above all the rest, / Her Heart, who binds all Hearts in chains, / Castanna's Heart untouch'd remains."

— Cotton, Charles (1630-1687)

Date: 1689

If death could be bought off, "Almighty Gold should all controul; / I'd bear his Image in my Soul."

— Goodall, Charles (1671-1689)

Date: 1693

"Base vulgar drossie minds, with more alloy / Then is that captive wealth they might enjoy; / Which Thieves may steal, which Rust or Fire destroy;"

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

Date: 1693

"Had the too tender Gods first made / Men's Hearts as hard as Steel, / Their Weakness ne're had been betraid / By ev'ry stroak they feel."

— Hawkshaw, Benjamin (1671/2-1738)

Date: 1693

"Musick alone inflames my drooping Mind; / Nay, she would mount her Wings, and fly away, / Not be confin'd to this dull Lump of Clay, / Did not the Charms of Musick most divine / Unite, and things so wide, so close combine."

— Hawkshaw, Benjamin (1671/2-1738)

Date: 1697

"Thy Heart of Gold I do append, To this my Marble Breast,"

— Cleland, William (1661?-1689)

Date: 1697

"What ever brought him here, or took him hence / It was no mean, or common influence, / Of Heavens best mettal, that inform'd his soul, / And made all vertue, but a blubr'd scrol / Of his great mind."

— Cleland, William (1661?-1689)

Date: 1697

"Our Senses to the Mind while lodg'd in Clay, / Do all their various Images convey. / Things that we tast, and feel, and see, afford / The Seeds of Thought with which our Minds are stor'd."

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)

Date: 1697

"At such Reflections do's not Nature start, / And try at every Spring to touch your Heart? / Do's not soft Pity's fire begin to burn, / Do not your yearning Bowels in you turn? / In such a case Breasts arm'd with temper'd Steel / And Hearts of Marble, should impression feel."

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)

Date: 1697

"Lord, strike this Marble Heart, thy powerful Stroke / Will make a Flood gush from the cleaving Rock. / O draw all Nature's Sluces up, and drain / Her Magazines, which liquid Stores contain."

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)