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)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Still dost thou melt my Soul with thy soft Images, / And make my Ruine pleasing?"

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Love reigns my Tyrant, to himself alone / He vindicates the Empire of my Breast, / And banishes all Thoughts of Joy for ever."

— 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

"But whither does my roving fancy wander?"

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"No! now she shoots her fires into my Breast, / She urges my Desires, and bids me seize thee."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)