University of Virginia Library

A Satyr by the Lord Rochester, which King Charles took out of his Pocket.

Preserv'd by Wonder in the Oak, O Charles,
And then brought in by the Duke of Albemarle;
The first by Providence, the next all Devil,
Shews th'art a Compound made of Good and Evil:
The Bad we've too long known, the Good's to come,
But not expected till the day of Doom.
Was ever Prince's Soul so meanly poor,
To be a Slave to every little Whore?
The Seaman's Needle nimbly points the Pole,
But thine still points to every craving Hole;
Which Wolf-like in that Breast raw Flesh devours,
And must be fed all Seasons and all Hours.

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193

C--- is the Mansion House where thou dost dwell,
But thou art fix'd as Tortoise to her Shell,
Whose Head peeps out a little now and then
To take the Air, and then creeps in agen.
Strong is thy Lust, in C--- thou'rt always diving,
And I dare swear thou pray'st to die a S---.
How poorly squanderst thou thy Seed away,
Who should get Kings for Nations to obey?
But thou poor Prince so uselesly hast sown it,
That the Creation is asham'd to own it;
Witness the Royal Lives sprung from the Belly
Of thy anointed Princess Madam Nelly,
Whose first Employment was with open Throat
To cry fresh Herrings, even Ten a Groat:
Then was by Madam Ross expos'd to Town,
I mean to those who would give half a Crown:
Next in the Play-house she took her Degree,
As Men commence at University.
No Doctors till they've Masters been before,
So no Players till they've been a Whore.
Look back and see the People mad with Rage,
To see the Bitch in such an Equipage;
And every day that they the Monster see,
They let 10000 Curses fly at thee:
Allow'd in publick Streets they use thee thus,
And none dare check them they're so numerous,

Stopping the Bank in thee was only great,
But in a Subject it had been a Cheat.
To pay thy Debts what Sum canst thou advance,
Now thy Exchequer is remov'd to France,
T'inrich a Harlot all made up of French,
Not worthy to be call'd a Whore, but Wench?
Cl---land indeed deserves that noble Name,
Whose monstrous Lechery exceeds all Fame;
The Empress Messaline was cloy'd with Lust at last,
But you could never satisfy this Beast:
Cl---land, I say, is much to be admir'd,
Altho she ne'er was satisfi'd or tir'd.

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194

Full 40 Men a day provided for this Whore,
Yet, like a Bitch, she wags her Tail for more.
Where are the Bishops now? Where are their Bawdy Court;
Instead of Penance, they indulge the Sport;
For standing in white Sheets their Penance cools,
And's only fit for Frenchmen and for Fools.
O Heavens! wert thou for this loose Life preserv'd?
Are there no Gods nor Laws to be observ'd?
Nineveh repented after forty Days;
Be yet a King, and wear the Royal Bays:
But Jonas Threats will ne'er awaken thee,
Repentance is too mean for Majesty.
Go practise Heliogabalus his Sin,
Forget to be a Man, and learn to spin;
Go dally with the Women on their Wheels,
Till Nero-like they pull thee out by th'Heels:
Go read what Mahomet did (that was a thing
Did well become the Grandeur of a King)
Who all transported with his Mistress Charms,
And never pleas'd but in her lovely Arms;
Yet when his Janizaries wish'd her dead,
With his own Hand cut off Irene's Head:
Make such a Practice with thy self as this,
Then thou mayst once more tast of Happiness;
Each one will love thee, and the Parliament
Will their unkind and stubborn Votes repent,
And at your Feet lay open all their Purses,
And give you all their Prayers unmix'd with Curses.
All this I wish, altho I'm not your Friend,
Till like a Child you promise to amend;
If not, you'l find your Subjects rugged Stuff,
But now I think on't, I have said enough.