Date: 1714

"'Tis all in vain, this Rage that tears thy Bosom, / Like a poor Bird that flutters in its Cage, / Thou beat'st thy self to Death."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1714

"Oh! thou hast set my busy Brain at work, / And now she musters up a Train of Images, / Which to preserve my Peace I had cast aside, / And sunk in deep Oblivion."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1715

"Thy gentle Temper, / Is form'd with Passions mixt in due Proportion, / Where no one overbears nor plays the Tyrant, / But join in Nature's Business, and thy Happiness: / While mine disdaining Reason and her Laws, / Like all thou can'st imagine wild and furious, / Now drive me head-long on, now w...

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1715

"My Soul is up in Arms, my injur'd Honour, / Impatient of the Wrong, calls for Revenge."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: April 18, 1721

"Oh, what a Pain to think! when every Thought, / Perplexing Thought in Intricacies runs, / And Reason knits th'inextricable Toil / In which her self is taken. I am lost, / Poor Insect that I am, I am involv'd, / And bury'd in the Web my self have wrought."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: April 18, 1721

"O the Medley / Of Right and Wrong! the Chaos in my Brain! / He should, and should not dye-- / You should Obey, / And not Obey.--It is a Day of Darkness, / Of Contradictions, and of many Deaths."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: April 18, 1721

"I told her, from your Childhood you was wont / On any great Surprize, but chiefly then / When cause of Sorrow bore it Company, / To have your Passion shake the Seat of Reason, / A momentary Ill, which soon blew o'er."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1722

"Vertues, and Vices, are to Realms confin'd: / And, Climates give a Tincture to the Mind."

— Philips, Ambrose (1674-1749)

Date: February 22, 1723

"If a single thought / Were tinctur'd with disloyalty, this hand / Shou'd pierce my heart to drive the rebel out."

— Fenton, Elijah (1683-1730)

Date: February 22, 1723

"No, my dear Roman! nothing can deface / Thy image from thy virgin-widow's breast; / Th' inviolable band of strong desire / Shall ever join our souls!"

— Fenton, Elijah (1683-1730)