The Poems of Charles Sackville Sixth Earl of Dorset: Edited by Brice Harris |
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A Letter from the Lord Buckhurst to Mr. George Etherege
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 | The Poems of Charles Sackville |  |
A Letter from the Lord Buckhurst to Mr. George Etherege
Dreaming last night on Mrs. Farley,
My p--- was up this morning early;
And I was fain without my gown
To rise in th'cold to get him down.
Hard shift, alas, but yet a sure,
Although it be no pleasing cure.
Of old the fair Egyptian slattern,
For luxury that had no pattern,
To fortify her Roman swinger,
Instead of nutmeg, mace and ginger,
Did spice his bowels (as story tells)
With warts of rocks and spawn of shells.
It had been happy for her Grace,
Had I been in the rascal's place;
I, who do scorn that any stone
Shou'd raise my pintle but my own,
Had laid her down on every couch
And sav'd her pearl and diamond brooch
Until her hot-tail'd Majesty,
Being happily reclaim'd by me
From all her wild expensive ways,
Had worn her gems on holidays.
But since her c--- has long done itching,
Let us discourse of modern bitching.
My p--- was up this morning early;
And I was fain without my gown
To rise in th'cold to get him down.
Hard shift, alas, but yet a sure,
Although it be no pleasing cure.
Of old the fair Egyptian slattern,
For luxury that had no pattern,
106
Instead of nutmeg, mace and ginger,
Did spice his bowels (as story tells)
With warts of rocks and spawn of shells.
It had been happy for her Grace,
Had I been in the rascal's place;
I, who do scorn that any stone
Shou'd raise my pintle but my own,
Had laid her down on every couch
And sav'd her pearl and diamond brooch
Until her hot-tail'd Majesty,
Being happily reclaim'd by me
From all her wild expensive ways,
Had worn her gems on holidays.
But since her c--- has long done itching,
Let us discourse of modern bitching.
I must entreat you by this letter,
To inquire for whores, the more the better.
Hunger makes any man a glutton;
If Roberts, Thomas, Mrs. Dutton,
Or any other bawds of note,
Inform of a fresh petticoat,
Inquire, I pray, with friendly care,
Where their respective lodgings are.
Some do compare a man t'a bark—
A pretty metaphor, pray mark—
And with a long and tedious story,
Will all the tackling lay before ye:
The sails are hope, the masts desire,
Till they the gentlest reader tire.
But howsoe'er they keep a pudder,
I'm sure the pintle is the rudder:
The pow'rful rudder, which of force
To town will shortly steer my course.
And if you do not there provide
A port where I may safely ride,
Landing in haste, in some foul creek,
'Tis ten to one I spring a leak.
To inquire for whores, the more the better.
Hunger makes any man a glutton;
If Roberts, Thomas, Mrs. Dutton,
Or any other bawds of note,
Inform of a fresh petticoat,
Inquire, I pray, with friendly care,
Where their respective lodgings are.
Some do compare a man t'a bark—
A pretty metaphor, pray mark—
And with a long and tedious story,
Will all the tackling lay before ye:
The sails are hope, the masts desire,
Till they the gentlest reader tire.
But howsoe'er they keep a pudder,
I'm sure the pintle is the rudder:
The pow'rful rudder, which of force
To town will shortly steer my course.
And if you do not there provide
A port where I may safely ride,
107
'Tis ten to one I spring a leak.
Next, I must make it my request,
If you have any interest,
Or can be any means discover
Some lamentable rhyming lover,
Who shall in numbers harsh and vile,
His mistress “Nymph” or “Goddess” style,
Send all his labors down to me
By the first opportunity.
If you have any interest,
Or can be any means discover
Some lamentable rhyming lover,
Who shall in numbers harsh and vile,
His mistress “Nymph” or “Goddess” style,
Send all his labors down to me
By the first opportunity.
Or any Knights of your Round Table,
To other scribblers formidable,
Guilty themselves of the same crime,
Dress nonsense up in ragged rhyme,
As once a week they seldom fail,
Inspir'd by love and gridiron ale.
To other scribblers formidable,
Guilty themselves of the same crime,
Dress nonsense up in ragged rhyme,
As once a week they seldom fail,
Inspir'd by love and gridiron ale.
Or any paltry poetry,
Tho' from the university,
Who when the King and Queen were there,
Did both their wit and learning spare,
And have, I hope, endeavor'd since
To make the world some recompense.
Such damn'd fustian when you meet,
Be not too rash or indiscreet,
Tho' they can plead no just excuses,
To put 'em to their proper uses—
The fatal privy or the fire,
Their nobler foe—at my desire
Restrain your natural profuseness,
And spare 'em tho' you have a looseness.
Tho' from the university,
Who when the King and Queen were there,
Did both their wit and learning spare,
And have, I hope, endeavor'd since
To make the world some recompense.
Such damn'd fustian when you meet,
Be not too rash or indiscreet,
Tho' they can plead no just excuses,
To put 'em to their proper uses—
The fatal privy or the fire,
Their nobler foe—at my desire
Restrain your natural profuseness,
And spare 'em tho' you have a looseness.
—BUCKHURST.
| The Poems of Charles Sackville | |