Date: 1691
"If thro the Eye the Vigorous Object darts / Into the Brain these small Aerial Parts; / How are they entertain'd, when Crowds do come? / How do the little narrow Cells make room? / Do all, that to an Object do belong, / Into one Place unmixt with others throng?"
preview | full record— Heyrick, Thomas (bap. 1649. d. 1694)
Date: 1692
"For these rude Pangs of Jealousie, are much more certain signs / Of Love, than all the tender Words an amorous Fancy coins."
preview | full record— Walsh, William (bap. 1662, d. 1708)
Date: 1692
"But when dilated organs let in day / To the young soul, and gave it room to play, / At his first aptness, the maternal love / Those rudiments of reason did improve."
preview | full record— Dryden, John (1631-1700)
Date: 1692
"Gold first their Blindfold Reason led astray"
preview | full record— Ward, Edward (1667-1731)
Date: 1692
"The tender age was pliant to command; / Like wax it yielded to the forming hand: / True to the artificer, the laboured mind / With ease was pious, generous, just, and kind."
preview | full record— Dryden, John (1631-1700)
Date: 1692
"His Eyes, which are the windows of his Soul, / With soft and languishing Desires are full."
preview | full record— Ames, Richard (bap. 1664?, d. 1692)
Date: 1692
"With them all sober Reason's Stuff; /But they are now grown Satyr-proof, / And all their Mind's impregnable like warlike Buff."
preview | full record— Ames, Richard (bap. 1664?, d. 1692)
Date: 1692
"Nature when first she form'd our Minds took care, / To place the softest, tenderest Passions there. / Hence 'tis, our Thoughts like Tinder, apt to fire, / Are often caught with loving kind Desire."
preview | full record— Ames, Richard (bap. 1664?, d. 1692)
Date: 1692
""Kind melting Kisses, modest, yet desiring, / May raise to Life a Passion Just expiring; / And he's a Monster Affrick ne're saw, / Whose frozen Mind such kind Heats cannot thaw."
preview | full record— Ames, Richard (bap. 1664?, d. 1692)
Date: 1693
"When Reason with her Robes ascends the Throne, / And wisely all my scatter'd Thoughts calls home, / The Messenger is so divine, / Unto her Laws I must resign."
preview | full record— Hawkshaw, Benjamin (1671/2-1738)