John Wilmot
A Letter from Artemesia in the Town to Chloe in the Country
Chloe, In verse by your command I write. Shortly you’ll bid me ride astride, and fight: These talents better with our sex agree Than lofty flights of dangerous poetry. Amongst the men, I mean
The Disabled Debauchee
As some brave admiral, in former war, Deprived of force, but pressed with courage still, Two rival fleets appearing from afar, Crawls to the top of an adjacent hill; From whence (with thoughts full
The Platonic Lady
I could love thee till I die, Would’st thou love me modestly, And ne’er press, whilst I live, For more than willingly I would give: Which should sufficient be to prove I’d understand the
Portsmouth's Looking Glass
Methinks I see you, newly risen From your embroider’d Bed and pissing, With studied mien and much grimace, Present yourself before your glass, To vanish and smooth o’er those graces, You rubb’d off in
Constancy
I cannot change, as others do, Though you unjustly scorn; Since that poor swain, that sighs for you For you alone was born. No, Phyllis, no, your heart to move A surer way I’ll
A Satyre on Charles II
[Rochester had to flee the court for several months After handing this to the King by mistake.] In th’ isle of Britain, long since famous grown For breeding the best cunts in Christendom, There
All My Past Life
All my past life is mine no more, The flying hours are gone, Like transitory dreams given o’er, Whose images are kept in store By memory alone. What ever is to come is not,
A Ramble in St. James's Park
Much wine had passed, with grave discourse Of who fucks who, and who does worse (Such as you usually do hear From those that diet at the Bear), When I, who still take care
My Dear Mistress Has a Heart
My dear mistress has a heart Soft as those kind looks she gave me, When with love’s resistless art, And her eyes, she did enslave me; But her constancy’s so weak, She’s so wild
A Song Of A Young Lady To Her Ancient Lover
Ancient Person, for whom I All the flattering youth defy, Long be it e’er thou grow old, Aching, shaking, crazy cold; But still continue as thou art, Ancient Person of my heart. On thy
Upon His Drinking a Bowl
Vulcan, contrive me such a cup As Nestor used of old; Show all thy skill to trim it up, Damask it round with gold. Make it so large that, filled with sack Up to
To His Mistress
Why dost thou shade thy lovely face? O why Does that eclipsing hand of thine deny The sunshine of the Sun’s enlivening eye? Without thy light what light remains in me? Thou art my
Give Me Leave to Rail at You
Give me leave to rail at you, – I ask nothing but my due: To call you false, and then to say You shall not keep my heart a day. But alas! against my
Love and Life
All my past life is mine no more, The flying hours are gone, Like transitory dreams giv’n o’er, Whose images are kept in store By memory alone. The time that is to come is
Upon Nothing
Nothing, thou elder brother even to shade, That hadst a being ere the world was made, And (well fixed) art alone of ending not afraid. Ere time and place were, time and place were