Much
wine had passed, with grave
discourse,
Of
who fucks who, and who does
worse(Such as you usually do hear
From those that diet at the Bear),
When I, who still take
care to see
Drunkenness relieved by lechery,
Went out into
St. James' ParkTo cool my head and
dire my
heart,
But though St. James has the' honour on't,
'Tis
consecrate to
prick and
cunt.
There, by a most incestuous Birth,
Strange Woods Spring from the
teeming Earth;
For they relate how
heretofore,
When Ancient Picts began to
Whore,
Deluded of his Assignation,
(Jilting it seems was then the fashion.)
Poor
pensive Lover in this place,
Would
Frig upon his Mother's Face;
Whence Rows of
Mandrakes tall did rise,
Whose Lewd tops Fuck'd the very Skies.
Each imitated Branch do's twine
In some Love Fold of
Arctine;
And nightly now beneath their Shade
Are
Bugg'ries, Rapes and Incests made,
Unto this
All-sin-Sheltering Grove,
Whores of the Bulk and the Alcove,
Great Ladies,
Chambermaids and Drudges,
The Rag-picker and Heiress trudges.
--
John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester