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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 art of love.

I hate the thing is called enjoyment:

Besides it is a dull employment,

Lord John Wilmot

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

That feed my love, which is my soul,

It languishes and dies.

Lord John Wilmot

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 lay by their fear

Nor be concerned which way nor where

After this life they shall be hurled.

Dead, we become the lumber of the world,

Lord John Wilmot

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 c*** be not coy, reputation is nice."

"To some cellar in Sodom Your Grace must retire

Where porters with black-pots sit round a coal fire;

There open your case, and Your Grace cannot fail

Of a dozen of pricks for a dozen of ale."

"Is't so?" quoth the Duchess. "Aye, by God!" quoth the whore.

Lord John Wilmot

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 of concern) he views

The wise and daring conduct of the fight,

And each bold action to his mind renews

His present glory, and his past delight;

Lord John Wilmot

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 my joys restore;

By using paper still behind,

And sponges for before.

Lord John Wilmot

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 not,

When primitive Nothing Something straight begot,

Then all proceeded from the great united—What?

Something, the general attribute of all,

Severed from thee, its sole original,

Lord John Wilmot

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 to see

Drunkenness relieved by lechery,

Went out into St. James's Park

To cool my head and fire my heart.

Lord John Wilmot

Song

Love a woman? You're an ass.

'Tis a most insipid passion

To choose out for your happiness

The idlest part of God's creation.

Let the porter and the groom,

Things designed for dirty slaves,

Drudge in fair Aurelia's womb

To get supplies for age and graves.

Lord John Wilmot

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 clinging to embrace,

She clips me to her breast, and sucks me to her face.

Her nimble tongue, Love's lesser lightening, played

Within my mouth, and to my thoughts conveyed

Lord John Wilmot

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 Duchess's train

And helped to conduct her over the main;

But now she cries out, 'To the Duke I will go,

I have no more need for Signior Dildo.'

Lord John Wilmot