Date: 1700, 1702

"Wise Mirza! were my Soul a Temple, fit For Gods, and Godlike Counsels to inhabit, Thee only would I choose of all Mankind, To be the Priest, still favour'd with access."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"My Son shall breathe so warm a gale of sighs, / As shall dissolve those Isicles, that hang / Like death about her heart."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Revenge, and fierce Desires of Glory, cease / To urge my Passions, master'd by her Eyes; / And only gentle Fires now warm my Breast."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Exquisite Charmer! now by Orosmades / I swear, thy each soft Accent melts my Soul."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Yet for thy Sake, thou Idol of my Heart, / (Nor will I blush to own the sacred Flame, / Thy Sighs and Vows have kindled in my Breast) / For thy lov'd Sake, spight of my boding Fears, / I'll meet the Danger which Ambition brings, / And tread one Path with thee."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Whom should we seek for Friendships but those few, / Those happy few, within whose Breasts alone, / The Footsteps of lost Virtue yet remain?"

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Forget that thought, / That jarring grates your Soul, and turns the Harmony / Of blessed Peace to curst infernal Discord."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Then Memnon (at an Hour when few are Villains / The sprightly Juice infusing gentler Thoughts, / And kindling Love ev'n in the coldest Breasts,) / Unequal to him in the Face of War, / Stole on Celander with a Cowards Malice, / And struck him to the Heart."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Like thine, / Immortal Thirst of Empire fires my Soul, / My Soul, which of superiour Power impatient, / Disdains thy Eldership; therefore in Arms / (Which give the noblest Right to Kings) I will / To Death dispute with thee the Throne of Cyrus."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"A lucky thought / Is in my mind at once compleatly form'd, / Like Grecian Pallas in the head of Jove."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)