Date: 1700

"He blinds the wise, gives eyesight to the blind, / And moulds and stamps anew the lover's mind."

— Dryden, John (1631-1700)

Date: 1700, 1717

"And, as the soften'd Wax new Seals receives, / This Face assumes, and that Impression leaves; / Now call'd by one, now by another Name; / The Form is only chang'd, the Wax is still the same."

— Dryden, John (1631-1700)

Date: 1704

"My heart is melted like the wax"

— Darby, Charles (bap. 1635, d.1709)

Date: 1704

"You boast, indeed, of being obliged to no other Creature, but of drawing, and spinning out all from your self; That is to say, if we may judge of the Liquor in the Vessel by what issues out, You possess a good plentiful Store of Dirt and Poison in your Breast; And, tho' I would by no means, less...

— Swift, Jonathan (1667-1745)

Date: 1705

"The deadly Bullet thro' his Forehead past, / An Inch above the Eye-brows, and effac'd / The Haunts and Tracks of Learning in the Brain,"

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)

Date: 1706, 1709

"In vain the Harlot Pleasure spreads her Charms / To lull his Thoughts in Luxuries fair Lap / To sensual Ease, (the Bane of little Kings, / Monarchs whose waxen Images of Souls / Are moulded into Softness) still his Mind / Wears its own Shape."

— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)

Date: 1710 [1719, 1729]

"His [Man's] ranging Soul in narrow Bounds contains / All Nature's Works, o'er which in Peace he reigns."

— Oldisworth, William (1680-1734)

Date: 1710 [1719, 1729]

"The Senses stand around; the Spirits roam / To seize and bring the fleeting Objects home: / Thro' every Nerve and every Pore they pass."

— Oldisworth, William (1680-1734)

Date: 1710 [1719, 1729]

"Reflection is the last and greatest Bliss: / When turning backwards with inverted Eyes, / The Soul it self and all its Charms, surveys, / The deep Impressions of Coelestial Grace / And Image of the Godhead."

— Oldisworth, William (1680-1734)

Date: 1711

"While Passions in their Breasts ungovern'd rage, / Distract the Mind, and War intestine wage, / Reason divine from her high Throne descends, / Lays by her Scepter, and her Pow'r suspends."

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)