Date: 1682-1735

"I am this crumb of dust which is design'd / To make my Pen unto thy Praise alone, / And my dull Phancy I would gladly grinde / Unto an Edge on Zions Pretious Stone."

— Taylor, Edward (1642-1729)

Date: 1735

"A man's true merit 'tis not hard to find, / But each man's secret standard in his mind, / That casting-weight pride adds to emptiness, / This, who can gratify? For who can guess?"

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)

Date: 1735

"The Bard whom pilf'red Pastorels renown, / Who turns a Persian tale for half a crown, / Just writes to make his barrenness appear, / And strains, from hard-bound brains, eight lines a year."

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)

Date: 1735

"'Twere endless to describe the various Darts, / With which the Fair are arm'd to conquer Heart"

— Hughes, John (1678?-1720)

Date: 1735

"Come, gentle Sleep, my Eye-lids close, / These dull Impressions help me lose:"

— Hughes, John (1678?-1720)

Date: 1735

"Such was the Turn of thy exalted Mind, / Sparkling as polish'd Gems, as purest Gold refin'd."

— Hughes, John (1678?-1720)

Date: 1735

"Impenetrable Courage steels his manly Breast"

— Hughes, John (1678?-1720)

Date: 1735

"Hope may some boundless Future Bliss embrace, / But What, or When, or How, or Where, / Are Mazes all, which Fancy runs in vain"

— Hughes, John (1678?-1720)

Date: 1735

"Nor can the narrow Cells of human Brain / The vast immeasurable Thought contain"

— Hughes, John (1678?-1720)

Date: 1735

"As if thy thrifty Soul foreknew, / Like a wise Envoy, Heav'n's Intent / Soon to recall whom it had sent, / And all its Task resolv'd at once to do."

— Hughes, John (1678?-1720)