Rochester had to flee the court for several months after handing this to the King by mistake
In th' isle of Britain
, long since famous grown
For breeding the best cunt
s in Christ
There reigns, and oh! long may he reign and thrive,
The easiest King and best bred man alive.
Him no ambition
moves to get reknown
Like the French fool, that wanders up and down
Starving his people, hazarding his crown.
Peace is his aim, his gentleness is such,And love he loves, for he loves fucking much
Nor are his high desires above his strength:
and his prick
are of a length;
And she may sway the one who plays with th' other,
And make him little wiser than his brother.
Poor Prince! thy prick, like thy buffoon
s at court,
Will govern thee because it makes thee sport.
'Tis sure the sauciest prick that e'er did swive,
The proudest, peremptoriest prick alive.
Though safety, law, religion
, life lay on 't,
'Twould break through all to make its way to cunt
Restless he rolls about from whore
A merry monarch
, scandalous and poor.
To Carwell, the most dear of all his dears,
The best relief of his declining years,
Oft he bewails his fortune, and her fate:
To love so well, and be beloved so late.
Yet his dull, graceless bollock
s hang an arse
This you'd believe, had I but time to tell ye
The pains it costs to poor, laborious Nelly,
Whilst she employs hand
, and thigh
Ere she can raise the member
All monarchs I hate, and the thrones they sit on,
From the hector of France to the cully of Britain.
-- John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester