A Woman's Honour
Love bade me hope, and I obeyed; Phyllis continued still unkind: Then you may e’en despair, he said, In vain I strive to change her mind. Honour’s got in, and keeps her heart, Durst
A Fragment of Seneca Translated
After Death nothing is, and nothing, death, The utmost limit of a gasp of breath. Let the ambitious zealot lay aside His hopes of heaven, whose faith is but his pride; Let slavish souls
Signior Dildo
You ladies of merry England Who have been to kiss the Duchess’s hand, Pray, did you not lately observe in the show A noble Italian called Signior Dildo? This signior was one of the
An Allusion to Horace
Well Sir, ’tis granted, I said Dryden’s Rhimes, Were stoln, unequal, nay dull many times: What foolish Patron, is there found of his, So blindly partial, to deny me this? But that his Plays,
By All Love's Soft, Yet Mighty Powers
By all love’s soft, yet mighty powers, It is a thing unfit, That men should fuck in time of flowers, Or when the smock’s beshit. Fair nasty nymph, be clean and kind, And all
The Imperfect Enjoyment
Naked she lay, clasped in my longing arms, I filled with love, and she all over charms; Both equally inspired with eager fire, Melting through kindness, flaming in desire. With arms, legs, lips close
The Mistress
An age in her embraces passed Would seem a winter’s day; When life and light, with envious haste, Are torn and snatched away. But, oh! how slowly minutes roll. When absent from her eyes
I Cannot Change, As Others Do
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
Satyr
Were I (who to my cost already am One of those strange prodigious Creatures Man) A Spirit free, to choose for my own share, What Case of Flesh, and Blood, I pleas’d to weare,
Song
Quoth the Duchess of Cleveland to counselor Knight, “I’d fain have a prick, knew I how to come by’t. I desire you’ll be secret and give your advice: Though cunt be not coy, reputation
Absent of Thee I Languish Still
Absent from thee I languish still; Then ask me not, when I return? The straying fool ’twill plainly kill To wish all day, all night to mourn. Dear! from thine arms then let me
Tunbridge Wells
At five this morn, when Phoebus raised his head From Thetis’ lap, I raised myself from bed, And mounting steed, I trotted to the waters The rendesvous of fools, buffoons, and praters, Cuckolds, whores,
Poems to Mulgrave and Scroope
Deare Friend. I heare this Towne does soe abound, With sawcy Censurers, that faults are found, With what of late wee (in Poetique Rage) Bestowing, threw away on the dull Age; But (howsoe’re Envy,
To This Moment a Rebel
To this moment a rebel I throw down my arms, Great Love, at first sight of Olinda’s bright charms. Make proud and secure by such forces as these, You may now play the tyrant
A Satyre Against Mankind
Were I – who to my cost already am One of those strange, prodigious creatures, man – A spirit free to choose for my own share What sort of flesh and blood I pleased