Date: 1667

"Nor was thy Head so worthy as thy Heart; / Where the Divine Impression shin'd so clear"

— Philips [née Fowler], Katherine (1632-1664)

Date: 1678

"But Fancy, I think, in Poetry, is like Faith in Religion; it makes far discoveries, and soars above reason, but never clashes, or runs against it. Fancy leaps, and frisks, and away she's gone; whilst reason rattles the chains, and follows after."

— Rymer, Thomas (1641-1713)

Date: 1701

"Stand by ye Fools--That noble Theam's my share,/ Farce is a Strain too low to court the Fair; / When to that pitch your Thoughts attempt to fly, / Like unskill'd Icarus you soar too high."

— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)

Date: 1701

"That Opinion, Tremilia, denotes a diseas'd Mind, which is as naturally averse to every thing that's pleasant, and agreeable, as a Diseas'd Body is to wholsom Food."

— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)

Date: 1701

"Contemplation is but an Overture to Madness, a discontented Temper renders the World Odious; and Melancholy, like Sleep, steals insensibly upon our Spirits; and when Solitude has contracted our Thoughts into a too serious Meditation, we fall into a Labyrinth of foolish Notions, that quite craze ...

— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)

Date: 1701

"No, Sir, Love is the greatest Enemy to Conversation, for even with the Young 'tis reckon'd a Disease of the Mind, but when the Old are seiz'd, 'tis a Sign of some very great Indisposition, and the Sentiments of craz'd People are seldom very extraordinary."

— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)

Date: 1701

"'Tis you handsom Mercers that wound all the Ladies Hearts."

— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)

Date: 1701

"How faint a Passion is Friendship, or that of Kindred, sick and wavering, like the Moon, when the Sunny Rays of Love dart into our Souls!"

— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)

Date: 1701

"Love governs every Sense, every Affection, every Principle truckles to that more noble Passion."

— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)

Date: 1701

"Beauty's the least prevailing Snare to me; tho' her great Soul makes me admire her Person; yet were she deform'd, Virtue, like the Sun, wou'd shine through every Cloud."

— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)