Date: 1703

"It were unjust, no let me spare my Friend, / Lock up the fatal Secret in my Breast, / Nor tell him that which will undo his Quiet."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"Wou'd I had met / Sharpest Convulsions, spotted Pestilences, / Or any other deadly Foe to Life, / Rather than heave beneath this load of Thought."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"My little Heart is satisfy'd with you, / You take up all her room; as in a Cottage / Which harbours some Benighted Princely Stranger, / Where the good Man, proud of his Hospitality, / Yields all his homely Dwelling to his Guest, / And hardly keeps a Corner for himself."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"Trust not to that; / Rage is the shortest Passion of our Souls, / Like narrow Brooks that rise with sudden Show'rs, / It swells in haste, and falls again as soon; / Still as it ebbs the softer Thoughts flow in, / And the Deceiver Love supplies its place."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"Calista now be wary, / And guard thy Soul's Accesses with Dissembling; / Nor let this Hostile Husband's Eyes explore / The warring Passions, and tumultuous Thoughts, / That rage within thee, and deform thy Reason."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"Methought ev'n now I mark'd the starts of Guilt, / That shook her Soul; tho' damn'd Dissimulation / Skreen'd her dark Thoughts, and set to publick View / A specious Face of Innocence and Beauty."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"If any Spark from Heav'n remain unquench'd / Within her Breast, my Breath perhaps may wake it; / Cou'd I but prosper there, I wou'd not doubt / My Combat with that loud vain-glorious Boaster."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"For oh! that Sorrow which has drawn your Anger, / Is the sad Native of Calista's Breast, / And once possest will never quit its Dwelling, / 'Till Life, the Prop all, shall leave the Building, / To tumble down, and moulder into Ruin."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"She's here! yet oh! my Tongue is at a loss, / Teach me, some Pow'r, that happy Art of Speech, / To dress my Purpose up in gracious Words; / Such as may softly steal upon her Soul, / And never waken the Tempestuous Passions."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"Force, and the Wills of our Imperious Rulers, / May bind two Bodies in one wretched Chain; / But Minds will still look back to their own Choice. / So the poor Captive in a Foreign Realm, / Stands on the Shoar, and sends his Wishes back / To the dear Native Land from whence he came."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)