Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A FAREWELL, by JOHN WILMOT


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A FAREWELL, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Tir'd with the noysom follies of the age
Last Line: Unthinking c[harle]s, rul'd by unthinking thee.
Alternate Author Name(s): Rochester, 2d Earl Of
Subject(s): Farewell; Parting


TIR'D with the noysom Follies of the Age,
And weary of my Part, I quit the Stage;
For who in Life's dull Farce a Part would bear,
Where Rogues, Whores, Bawds, all the head Actors are?
Long I with Charitable Malice strove,
Lashing the Court, those Vermin to remove,
But thriving Vice under the rod still grew,
As aged Letchers whipp'd, their Lust renew;
What though my Life hath unsuccessful been,
(For who can this Augean Stable clean)
My gen'rous end I will pursue in Death,
And at Mankind rail with my parting breath.
First, the Tangier Bullies must appear,
With open Brav'ry, and dissembled Fear:
M[ulgrav]e their Head, but Gen'ral have a care,
Though skill'd in all those Arts that cheat the fair,
The Undiscerning and Impartial Moor,
Spares not the Lover on the Ladies score.
Think how many perish by one fatal shot,
The Conquests all thy Goggling ever got.
Think then (as I presume you do) how all
The English Ladies will lament your fall;
Scarce will there greater Grief pierce every heart,
Should Sir George H[ewitt], or Sir C[ar] depart.
Had it not better been than thus to roam,
To stay and play the Cravat-string at home?
To strut, look big, shake Pantaloon, and swear
With H[ewitt], D[amme], there's no action there.
Had'st thou no friend that wou'd to R[owley] write,
To hinder this thy eagerness to fight?
That without danger thou a Brave might'st be,
As sure to be deny'd as S[alisbur]y.
This sure the Ladies had not fail'd to do,
But who such Courage would suspect in you?
For say, what Reason could with you prevail
To change Embroider'd Coat for Coat of Mail?
Let P[limout]h, or let M[ordan]t go, whom Fate
Hath not made Valiant, but desperate.
For who could not be weary of his Life,
Who's lost his Money, or has got a Wife?
To the more tolerable Alcaid of Alcazzer,
One flies from Creditors, the other from ;
'Twere Cruelty to make such sharp Remarks,
Only Poor C[harls] I can't but pitty thee,
When all the pert young Voluntiers I see.
Those Chits of War, who as much mirth create
As the Pair Royal of the Chits of State,
Their names shall equal all succeeding Glory,
Chit S[underlan]d Chit G[odolphi]n, and Chit L[or]y
When thou let'st P[limout]h twas such a Jest,
As when the Brother made the same request;
Had R[ichmon]d but got leave as well as he,
The Jest had been compleat and worthy thee.
Well, since he must, he'll to Tangier advance
It is resolv'd, but first let's have a Dance.
First, at her Highness Ball he must appear,
And in a parting Country Dance, learn there
With Drum and Fife to make a Jigg of War;
What is of Soldier seen in all the heap,
Besides the flutt'ring Feather in the Cap.
The Scarf, and Yard or two of Scarlet Cloath,
From Gen'ral M[ulgrav]e down to little W[rot]h?
There leave we them, and back to England come
Whereby the Wiser Sparks that stay at home,
In safe ideas by their fancy form'd,
In safe ideas by their fancy form'd,
Tangier (like Mastrich) is at Windsor Storm'd.
For now we talk of Mastrich, where he is he,
Fam'd for that brutal piece of Bravery?
He with the thick Impenetrable Skull,
The solid, hard'ned Armour of a Fool?
Well might himself to all Wars ills expose,
Who (come what will yet) had no Brains to lose.
Yet this is he, the dull, unthinking he,
Who must (forsooth) our future Monarch be.
This Fool by Fools (A[rmstron]g and V[erno]n) led,
Dreams that a Crown will drop upon his Head,
By great example he this Path doth tread,
Following such sensless Asses up and down,
(For Saul sought Asses when he found a Crown)
But R[oss] is risen as Samuel at his call,
To tell that God hath left the ambitious Saul.
Never (says Heaven), shall the blushing Sun,
See P[roger]s Bastard fill the Regal Throne.
So Heaven says, but B[uckingha]m says he shall,
But who e're he protects is sure to fall.
Who can more certain of Destruction be
Than he who trusts to such a Rogue as he?
What good can come from him who Y[or]k forsook,
T'espouse the Interest of this Booby Duke?
But who the best of Masters cou'd desert
Is the most fit to take the Traytors part.
Ungrateful! This thy Master-piece of sin,
Exceeds ev'n that with which thou did'st begin
Thou great Proficient in the Trade of Hell,
Whose latter Crimes still do thy first excel:
The very top of Villany we seize,
By steps in Order, and by just degrees
None e're was perfect Villain in one day,
The murder'd Boy to Treason led the way;
But when degrees of Villany we Name,
How can we choose but think of B[uckingha]m?
He who through all of them has boldly ran,
Left ne're a Law unbroke by God or Man.
His treasur'd sins of Supererrogation,
Swell to a summ enough to damn a Nation:
But he must here, per force, be left alone,
His acts require a Volumn of their own:
Where rank'd in dreadful order shall appear,
All his Exploits from S[hrewsbur]y to Le M[arr].
But stay, methinks! I on a sudden find,
My Pen to treat of th'other Sex inclin'd;
But where in all this choice shall I begin?
Where, but with the renowned M[azarin]e?
For all the Bawds the Courts rank Soil doth bear
And Bawds and States-men grow in plenty there
To thee submit and yield, should we be Just,
To thy experienc'd and well travell'd Lust:
Thy well known Merits claim that thou should'st be,
First in the Glorious Roll of Infamy.
To thee they all give place, and Homage pay,
Do all thy Letcherous Decrees obey;
Thou Queen of Lust, thy Bawdy Subjects they.
While S[usse]x, B[roghi]ll,Betty F[elto]n come,
Thy Whores of Honour, to attend thy Throne;
For what proud Strumpet e're could merit more
Than be Anointed the Imperial Whore?
For tell me in all Europe,where's the part,
That is not conscious of thy Lewd desert.
The great Pedalian Youth, whose Conquests run
O're all the World, and Travall'd with the Sun,
Made not his Valour in more Nations known.
Than thou thy Lust, thy matchless Lust have shown,
All Climes, all Countries, do with Tribute come,
(Thou World of Lewdness) to thy boundless Womb:
Thou Sea of Lust, that never ebb doth know,
Whither the Ruines of all Nations flow,
Lewd Messaline was but a Type of thee
Thou highest, last degree of Letchery:
For in all Ages, except her and you,
Who ever sinn'd so high, and stoop'd so low.
She to th'imperial Bed, each Night did use,
To bring the stink of the Exhausted Stews;
Tir'd (but not satisfy'd) with man did come,
Drunk with abundant Lust, and reeling home.
But thou, to our admiring Age, doth show
More sin than Inn'cent Rome did ever know;
And having all her Lewdnesses out-ran,
Takes up with Devil, having tir'd Man:
For what is else that loathsom uggly Black,
Which you and S[usse]x in your Arms do take?
Nor does Cold Age, which now rides on so fast,
Make thee come short of all thy Lewdness past:
Though on thy Head, Grey-hairs like Etna's Snow
Are shed, thou'rt Fire and Brimstone all below.
Thou monstrous thing, in whom at once doth rage
The Flames of Youth,and impotence of Age.
My Lady D -- s takes the second place,
Proud with thy favour and peculiar grace;
E'n she with all her Piety and Zeal,
The hotter flames that burn in thee does feel.
Thou dost into her kindling breast inspire,
The Lustful seeds of thy Contagious fire;
So well the Spirit and the Flesh agree,
Lust and Devotion, Zeal and Letchery.
Important use Religion's made,
By those who wisely drive the Cheating Trade;
As Wines Prohibited securely pass.
Changing the Name of their own Native place.
So Vice grows safe, drest in Devotions Name,
Unquestion'd by the Custom-house of Fame:
Where e're so much of Sanctity you see,
Be more Suspicious of hid Villany;
Whoseever Zeal is than his Neighbours more
If Man, think he's a Rogue, if Woman Whore:
And such a thing art thou Religious Pride,
So very Lewd, and yet so Sanctify'd.
Let now the D[utches]s take no further care
Of humorous Stallions, let her not dispair,
Since her Indulgent Stars so kind have been
To send her B -- y and M[azarin]e
This last doth banisht M[onmouth]s Place supply,
And Wit supplanted is by Letchery.
For M[onmout]hhe had Parts, and Wit, and Sense,
To all which M[azarin]e had no pretence;
A proof that since such things as he prevail
Her H[ighness's] Head is lighter than her Tail
But stay I P[ortsmout]h almost had forgot,
The common Theam of every Rhiming Sot;
She'll after railing make us laugh a while,
For at her Folly who can choose but smile?
While them who always slight her great she makes,
And so much pains to be despis'd she takes.
Goes sauntring with her Highness up to Town,
To an Old Play,and in the Dark come down;
Still makes her Court to her as to the Queen,
But still is Justl'd out by M[azarin]e
So much more Worthy a kind Bawd is thought,
Than ever she who her from Exile brought.
O P[ortsmout]h, foolish P[ortsmout]h! Not to take
The offer the great S[underlan]d did make.
When Cringing at thy Feet; e're M[onmout]h bow'd,
The Golden Calf, that's Worshipp'd by the Crowd.
But thou for Y[or]k, who now despises thee,
To leave both him and Pow'rful S[haftsbur]y:
If this is all the Policy you know,
This all the skill in States you boast of so,
How wisely did thy Country's Laws ordain,
Never to let the foolish Women Reign.
But what must we expect, who daily see
Unthinking C[harle]s, Rul'd by Unthinking thee.





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