Date: 1718

"The Foe has secret Friends within your Breast, / Perfidious Passions, which dissemble Rest / All these, should you approach her Camp too near, / Rising in Arms, against you will declare."

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)

Date: 1718

"By this strong Party lurking in your Heart, / Reason seduc'd, will to her Side desert."

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)

Date: w. 1719, 1951

"By fortitude of mind he conquest gains / O're sordid pleasures and imagind pains."

— Ramsay, Allan (1684-1758)

Date: 1719

"I found indeed some Intervals of Reflection, and the serious Thoughts did, as it were, endeavour to return again sometimes, but I shook them off, and rouz'd my self from them as it were from a Distemper, and applying my self to Drinking and Company, soon master'd the Return of those Fits, for so...

— Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731)

Date: 1719

"She freely gave him up her conquer'd Heart"

— Breval, John Durant (1680/81-1738)

Date: 1719

"A thousand Fears invade / And fill my Mind with Pain"

— Mitchell, Joseph (c. 1684-1738)

Date: 1719

I struggled with the Power of my Imagination, reason'd myself out of it, as I believe People may always do in like Cases, if they will; and, in a Word, I conquer'd it

— Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731)

Date: 1719

"I thought he was not a Monarch only, but a great Conqueror; for that he that has got a Victory over his own exorbitant Desires, and has the absolute Dominion over himself, whose Reason entirely governs his Will, is certainly greater than he that conquers a City"

— Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731)

Date: 1719-1720, 1725

"I can no longer withstand the too powerful Magick of your Eyes, nor deny any Thing that charming Tongue can ask; but now's the Time to prove your self a Heroe! subdue your self, as you have conquer'd me! be satisfied with vanquishing my Soul, fix there your Throne, but leave my Honour free!"

— Haywood [née Fowler], Eliza (1693?-1756)

Date: 1719-1720, 1725

"Oh, Melliora! didst thou but know the thousandth Part of what this Moment I endure, the strong Convulsions of my warring Thoughts, thy Heart, steel'd as it is, and frosted round with Virtue, wou'd burst its icy Shield, and melt in Tears of Blood, to pity me."

— Haywood [née Fowler], Eliza (1693?-1756)