"Such black designs are strangers to our breast."

— Rowe [née Singer], Elizabeth (1674-1737)

Place of Publication
Printed for T. Worrall
"Such black designs are strangers to our breast."
Metaphor in Context
With what strange meaning is thy language fraught,
Surpriz'd, they cry, we're guiltless, even in thought,
And by th' immortal God, we dare protest,
Such black designs are strangers to our breast
Our coin unask'd exactly we restor'd,
How should we then abuse thy injur'd lord,
And basely, gold or silver, from him steal,
While recent favours yet our thanks compel?
If such enormous guilt our bosoms stain,
Vassals for life thy servants shall remain;
The wretch, convicted of a crime so high,
Unpity'd here before thy face shall dye.
Searching "breast" and "stranger" in HDIS (Poetry)
At least 16 entries in the ESTC (1737, 1738, 1741, 1742, 1744, 1750, 1756, 1759, 1767, 1772, 1778, 1783, 1784, 1787, 1795)

Text from Elizabeth Rowe, The History of Joseph. A Poem. In Ten Books. By the Author of Friendship in Death., 2nd edition (London: Printed for T. Worrall, 1737). <Link to 4th edition in Google Books>
Date of Entry

The Mind is a Metaphor is authored by Brad Pasanek, Assistant Professor of English, University of Virginia.