Author: John Wilmot

Chloe, In verse by your command I write. Shortly you’ll bid me ride astride, and fight: These talents better with […]

As some brave admiral, in former war, Deprived of force, but pressed with courage still, Two rival fleets appearing from […]

I could love thee till I die, Would’st thou love me modestly, And ne’er press, whilst I live, For more […]

Methinks I see you, newly risen From your embroider’d Bed and pissing, With studied mien and much grimace, Present yourself […]

I cannot change, as others do, Though you unjustly scorn; Since that poor swain, that sighs for you For you […]

[Rochester had to flee the court for several months After handing this to the King by mistake.] In th’ isle […]

All my past life is mine no more, The flying hours are gone, Like transitory dreams given o’er, Whose images […]

Much wine had passed, with grave discourse Of who fucks who, and who does worse (Such as you usually do […]

My dear mistress has a heart Soft as those kind looks she gave me, When with love’s resistless art, And […]

Ancient Person, for whom I All the flattering youth defy, Long be it e’er thou grow old, Aching, shaking, crazy […]