Date: 1697

"The Brain in Sleep is moist, something like that of Infants or Children: And you wou'd put a Child to a hard Task, to tell you at Night, all that had pass'd that Day in his Play or his Talk, and much more in his Thoughts."

— Burnet, Thomas (c.1635-1715)

Date: 1697

The soul may be a "Modification or Power of the Body" so that it eventually ceases to act, "either perishing, as a Flame when the Fewel is spent; or returning to its Fountain, whatsoever it was"

— Burnet, Thomas (c.1635-1715)

Date: 1697

"Th'impetuous Stress of Passion bears me down, / And the high tyde dos sinking Reason drown."

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)

Date: 1697

"Let Love's strong Flame by its Celestial Art / To fill my Eyes, dissolve and melt my Heart; / As Central Fire advances watry Steams / Which from the Mountains spring in Crystal Streams."

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)

Date: 1697

"Lord, strike this Marble Heart, thy powerful Stroke / Will make a Flood gush from the cleaving Rock. / O draw all Nature's Sluces up, and drain / Her Magazines, which liquid Stores contain."

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)

Date: 1697

"When Lucifer observ'd the Pagans flee, / And the great Briton crown'd with Victory, / O'er-boiling Rage his lab'ring Mind possest, /And thoughts of deep Revenge o'erwhelm'd his Breast."

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)

Date: 1698

"The Matter is so Contrived that the Smut and Scum of the Thought rises uppermost; And like a Picture drawn to Sight, looks always upon the Company."

— Collier, Jeremy (1650-1726)

Date: 1699

"On these the Soul, as on some flowing tide, / Must sit, and on the swelling Billows ride; / Hurry'd away, for how can be withstood / Th' Impetuous Torrent of the boyling blood?"

— Pomfret, John (1667-1702)

Date: 1699

"Then th' Understanding without pain did climb: / Capacious, Active, Lively, and Sublime, / Clear as fair Fountains, and as pure as they, / Chast as the Morn, and open as the day."

— Pomfret, John (1667-1702)

Date: 1700

"Black throngs of Woes invade my frighted Soul, / As crowding Billows on each other roll."

— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)