Date: 1713

"Now, Marcus, now, thy Virtue's on the Proof: / Put forth thy utmost Strength, work ev'ry Nerve, / And call up all thy Father in thy Soul: / To quell the Tyrant Love, and guard thy Heart / On this weak Side, where most our Nature fails, / Would be a Conquest worthy Cato's Son."

— Addison, Joseph (1672-1719)

Date: 1713

"Since we have made this Breach in her Heart, my Lad, there is now no fear of gaining the Citadel."

— Gay, John (1685-1732)

Date: 1714

"Oh Jealousie! Thou Bane of pleasing Friendship, / Thou worst Invader of our tender Bosoms; / How does thy Rancour poison all our Softness, / And turn our gentle Natures into Bitterness."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1717

"Against my self my rebel Passions arm; / They bound within my Breast to meet this Victor."

— Manley, Delarivier (c. 1670-1724)

Date: April 18, 1721

"One Argument is ballanc'd by another, / And Reason Reason meets in doubtful Fight, / And Proofs are countermin'd by equal Proofs. / No more I'll bear this Battel of the Mind, / This inward Anarchy."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1722

"I say, thus it is with me while I see him; and in his absence I am entertained with nothing but your endeavors to tear this image from my heart and, in its stead, to place a base dissembler, and artful invader of my happiness, my innocence, my honor."

— Steele, Sir Richard (1672-1729)

Date: 1722

"Had I spirits left to tell you of his actions, how strongly filial duty has suppressed his love, and how concealment still has doubled all his obligations, the pride, the joy of his alliance, sir, would warm you heart as he has conquered mine."

— Steele, Sir Richard (1672-1729)

Date: 1722

"And yet, whate'er I do, my Hopes are blasted. / That this fierce Combat in my Heart were over!"

— Philips, Ambrose (1674-1749)

Date: February 22, 1723

"Then her physicians with the opiate charm / Of gentle sleep, her fainting senses bound, / And hush'd the warring passions into peace."

— Fenton, Elijah (1683-1730)

Date: February 22, 1723

"I thought my heart was arm'd with adamant / Against remorse, but nature fools me now; / A faint cold shiv'ring seizeth every limb."

— Fenton, Elijah (1683-1730)