Date: 1701

"This may give him hopes, that tho' his Trunk return to its native Dust he may not all Perish, but the Inhabitant of it may remove to another Mansion; especially since he knows only Mechanically that they have, not Demonstratively how they have, even a present Union."

— Steele, Sir Richard (1672-1729)

Date: 1702

"But that my Soul, conscious of whence it sprung, / Sits unpolluted in its sacred Temple, / And scorns to mingle with a Thought so mean."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Her thoughtful Soul, labours with some event / Of high import, which bustles like an Embryo / In its dark Room, and longs to be disclos'd."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

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

"O could I think that he had ever known / My hidden flame, shame and confusion / Would force my Virgin soul to leave her mansion, / And certain Death ensue."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"No! my disdainful Soul shall struggle out / And start at once from its dishonour'd Mansion."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703, 1718

Fancy may "fickle reign in Reason's Seat, / And Thy wild Empire, Anarchy, uphold"

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)

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

"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

"I have turn'd my Eyes inward upon my self, / Where foul Offence, and Shame have laid all waste; / Therefore my Soul abhors the wretched Dwelling, / And longs to find some better place of Rest."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)