On this page all the quotations of the author John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester. See also other quotes by this author. Interested? Share it
When my young master's worship comes to town, From pedagogue and mother just fit free, The heir and hopes of a great famiiy; Who with strong beer and beef the country rules, And ever since the Conquest have been fools; And now, with careful prospect to maintain This character, lest crossing of the strain Should mend the booby breed, his friends provide A cousin of his own to be his bride… .
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 pleas’d to wear, I’d be a Dog, a Monkey, or a Bear, Or any thing, but that vain Animal, Who is so proud of being Rational. .
Whilst the misguided Follower climbs with Pain, Mountains of Whimsies, heapt in his own Brain, Stumbling from Thought to Thought, falls headlong down Into Doubt’s boundless Sea, where like to drown, Books bear him up a-while, and make him try To swim with Bladders of Philosophy. .
But a meek humble Man of modest Sense, Who, Preaching Peace, does practice Continence; Whose pious life’s a proof he does believe, Mysterious Truths, which no Man can conceive. If upon Earth there dwell such God-like Men, I'll here Recant my Paradox to them; Adore those Shrines of Virtue, homage pay, And, with the rabble world, their Laws obey. If such there are, yet grant me This at least, Man differs more from Man, than Man from Beast. .
If you have a grateful heart (which is a miracle amongst you statesmen), show it by directing the bearer to the best wine in town, and pray let not this highest point of sacred friendship be performed slightly, but go about it with all due deliberation and care, as holy priests to sacrifice, or as discreet thieves to the wary performance of burglary and shop-lifting. Let your well-discerning palate (the best judge about you) travel from cellar to cellar and then from piece to piece till it has lighted on wine fit for its noble choice and my approbation. .
So, when my Days of Impotence approach, And I’m by Pox and Wine’s unlucky chance Driv'n from the pleasing Billows of debauch On the dull Shore of lazy Temperance; My Pains at least some Respite shall afford While I behold the Battles you maintain When Fleets of Glasses sail about the Board, From whose Broad-sides Volleys of Wit shall rain. .
See the kind seed-receiving earth To every grain affords a birth: On her no showers unwelcome fall, Her willing womb retains ‘em all, And shall my Caelia be confined? No, live up to thy mighty mind, And be the mistress of Mankind! .
On thy wither’d lips and dry, Which like barren furrows lie, Brooding kisses I will pour, Shall thy youthful heart restore. (Such kind showers in autumn fall, And a second spring recall); Nor from thee will ever part, Ancient Person of my Heart. .
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. .
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