Date: 1703

"It were unjust, no let me spare my Friend, / Lock up the fatal Secret in my Breast, / Nor tell him that which will undo his Quiet."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"Wou'd I had met / Sharpest Convulsions, spotted Pestilences, / Or any other deadly Foe to Life, / Rather than heave beneath this load of Thought."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"Calista now be wary, / And guard thy Soul's Accesses with Dissembling; / Nor let this Hostile Husband's Eyes explore / The warring Passions, and tumultuous Thoughts, / That rage within thee, and deform thy Reason."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"Methought ev'n now I mark'd the starts of Guilt, / That shook her Soul; tho' damn'd Dissimulation / Skreen'd her dark Thoughts, and set to publick View / A specious Face of Innocence and Beauty."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"She's here! yet oh! my Tongue is at a loss, / Teach me, some Pow'r, that happy Art of Speech, / To dress my Purpose up in gracious Words; / Such as may softly steal upon her Soul, / And never waken the Tempestuous Passions."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"Sorrow, Remorse, and Shame, have torn my Soul, / They hang like Winter on my Youthful Hopes, / And blast the Spring and Promise of my Year."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"If it be so, this is our last Farewel, / And these the parting Pangs which Nature feels, / When Anguish rends the Heart-strings--Oh! my Daughter."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"Nothing but Blood can make the Expiation, / And cleanse the Soul from inbred, deep Pollution."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)