A Ramble in St. James's Park

Original Text: 
Poems on Several Occasions: By the Right Honourable, The E. of R-- (Antwerpen, 1680?): 14-19. John Wilmot, earl of Rochester, Poems on Several Occasions [1680?] (Scolar Press, 1971): 14-19. British Library X.989/13650
1Much Wine had past, with grave Discourse,
2Of who Fucks who, and who do's worse;
3Such as you usually do hear
4From them that Diet at the Bear;
5When I, who still take care to see
6Drunk'nness Reliev'd by Letchery,
7Went out into St. James's Park,
8To cool my Head, and fire my Heart;
9But though St. James has the Honour ont!
10'Tis Consecrate to Prick and Cunt.
11There, by a most Incestuous Birth,
12Strange Woods Spring from the teeming Earth:
13For they relate how heretofore
14When Ancient Pict began to Whore,
15Deluded of his Assignation,
16(Jilting it seems was then in fashion.)
17Poor pensive Lover in this place.
18Wou'd Frig upon his Mothers Face;
19Whence Rows of Mandrakes tall did rise,
20Whose Lewd tops Fuck'd the very Skies.
21Each imitated Branch do's twine
22In some Love Fold of Aretine:
23And nightly now beneath their Shade
24Are Bugg'ries, Rapes, and Incests made,
25Unto this All-sin-sheltring Grove,
26Whores of the Bulk and the Alcove,
27Great Ladies, Chambermaids and Drudges,
28The Rag-picker and Heires trudges;
29Car-men, Divines, great Lords, and Taylers;
30Prentices, Pimps, Poets, and Gaolers,
31Foot-boys, fine Fops, do here arrive,
32And here promiscuously they Swive.

33Along these hallow'd Walks it was
34That I beheld Corinna pass;
35Whoever had been by to see
36The proud Disdain she cast on me,
37Through Charming Eyes, he wou'd have Swore
38She dropt from Heav'n that very Hour,
39Forsaking the Divine Aboad
40In scorn of some despairing God.
41But mark what Creatures Women are,
42How infinitely Vile and Fair.

43Three Knights o' th' Elbow and the Slur,
44With wrigling Tails made up to her.

45The first was of your White-hall Blades,
46Near Kin to the Mother of the Maids,
47Grac'd by whose Favour he was able
48To bring a Friend to the Waiters Table;
49Where he had heard Sir Edward S-----
50Say how the K--- lov'd Bansted Mutton,
51Since when he'd ne're be brought to eat,
52By's good will, any other Meat.
53In this, as well as all the rest,
54He ventures to do like the Best:
55But wanting common Sence, th'Ingredient
56In chusing well, not least expedient,
57Converts Abortive Imitation
58To universal Affectation;
59So he not only eats and talks,
60But feels and smells, sits down and walks,
61Nay looks, and lives, and Loves by Rote,
62In an old Tawdry Birth-day Coat.

63The Second was a Grays-Inn-Wit,
64A great Inhabiter of the Pit,
65Where Critick-like he sits and Squints,
66Steals Pocket-handkerchiefs and Hints
67From's Neighbour and the Comedy,
68To Court and Pay his Landlady.

69The Third a Ladies Eldest Son,
70Within few Years of Twenty One,
71Who hopes from his propitious Fate,
72Against he comes to his Estate,
73By these Two Worthies to be made
74A most accomplish'd tearing Blade.
75One in a strain 'twixt Tune and Nonsense,
76Cries, Madam, I have lov'd you long since,
77Permit me your fair Hand to Kiss:
78When at her Mouth her Cunt says Yes.

79In short without much more ado,
80Joyful and pleas'd away she flew.
81And with these Three confounded Asses
82From Park to Hackney-Coach she passes.
83So a Proud Bitch do's lead about
84Of humble Curs the Amorous Rout,
85Who most obsequiously do Hunt
86The sav'ry Scent of Salt swoln Cunt.
87Some Pow'r more patient now relate
88The Scence of this surprizing Fate.
89Gods! that a thing admir'd by me,
90Shou'd taste so much of Infamy!
91Had she pick'd out to rub her Arse on, [pub 1680]
92Some stiff-Prick'd Clown, or well-hung Parson,
93Each Job of whose Spermatick Sluce
94Had fill'd her Cunt with whollsome Juice,
95I' the proceeding shou'd have prais'd,
96In hope she had quencht a Fire I rais'd:
97Such nat'ral freedoms are but Just,
98There's something gen'rous in meer Lust;
99But to turn Damn'd Abandon'd Jade,
100When neither Head nor Tail perswade?
101To be a Whore in understanding,
102A Passive Pot for Fools to spend in,
103The Devil plaid Booty sure with thee,
104To bring a Blot on Infamy.
105But why was I, of all Mankind,
106To so severe a Fate design'd?
107Ungreatful! why this Treachery
108To humble, fond, believing me?
109Who gave you Priviledges above
110The Nice Allowances of Love?
111Did ever I refuse to bear
112The meanest part your Lust cou'd spare?
113When your lewd Cunt came spewing home,
114Drench'd with the Seed of half the Town,
115My Dram of Sperm was sup'd up after,
116For the digestive Surfeit-Water.
117Full gorged at another time
118With a vast Meal of Nasty Slime,
119Which your devouring Cunt had drawn
120From Porters Backs, and Foot-mens Brawn;
121I was content to serve you up
122My Ballocks full, for your Grace Cup;
123Nor ever thought it an Abuse, [1680 though]
124While you had Pleasure for Excuse.
125You that cou'd make my Heart away,
126For Noise and Colours and betray
127The Secrets of my tender Hours,
128To such Knight-Errant Paramours,
129When leanning on your faithless Breast,
130Wrapt in security, and rest.
131Soft Kindness all my pow'rs did move,
132And reason lay dissolv'd in love.
133May stinking Vapour choak your Womb,
134Such as the Men you doat upon;
135May your deprav'd Appetite,
136That cou'd in whiffling Fools delight,
137Beget such Frenzies in your Mind,
138You may go Mad for the North wind.
139And fixing all your hopes upon't,
140To have him Bluster in your Cunt.
141Turn up your longing Arse to th' Air,
142And Perish in a wild despair.
143But Cowards shall forget to Rant,
144School-boys to Frig, old Whores to Paint:
145The Jesuits Fraternity,
146Shall leave the use of Buggery.
147Crab-Lowse, inspir'd with Grace Divine,
148From Earthly Cod, to Heav'n shall climb;
149Physicians, shall believe in Jesus,
150And disobedience cease to please us.
151E're I desist with all my Power,
152To plague this Woman and undo her.
153But my Revenge will best be tim'd,
154When she is Marri'd that is lim'd,
155In that most lamentable State,
156I'll make her feel my Scorn, and Hate;
157Pelt her with Scandals, Truth or Lies,
158And her poor Cur with Jealousies.
159Till I have torn him from her Breech,
160While she whines like a Dog-drawn Bitch.
161Loath'd, and depriv'd, kickt out of Town,
162Into some dirty hole alone,
163To Chew the Cud of Misery,
164And know she owes it all to me.
165And may no Woman better thrive,
166Who dares prophane the Cunt I Swive.
Publication Start Year: 
1680
RPO poem Editors: 
Ian Lancashire
RPO Edition: 
2011
Form: