John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester Quotes

Thou treacherous, base deserter of my flame, False to my passion, fatal to my fame, Through what mistaken magic dost thou prove So true to lewdness, so untrue to love?

Were I, who to my Cost already am One of those strange, prodigious Creatures Man, A Spirit free, to choose for my own Share, What sort of Flesh and Blood I pleas'd to wear, I'd be a Dog, a Monkey, or a Bear, Or any thing, but that vain Animal, Who is so proud of being Rational.

But oh, how slowly minutes roll When absent from her eyes, That feed my love, which is my soul: It languishes and dies.

Naked she lay, clasped in my longing arms, I filled with love, and she all over charms; Both equally inspired with eager fire, Melting through kindness, flaming in desire. With arms, legs, lips close clinging to embrace.

Most Men are Cowards, all Men should be Knaves. The Difference lies, as far as I can see, Not in the thing it self, but the Degree.

Farewell, woman! I intend Henceforth every night to sit With my lewd, well-natured friend, Drinking to engender wit.

For Wits are treated just like Common Whores; First they're enjoy'd, and then kickt out of Doors.

The Elephant is never won with Anger, Nor must that man, who would reclaim a Lion, Take him by the teeth.

Dead we become the lumber of the world.

Then talk not of Inconstancy, False Hearts, and broken Vows; If I, by Miracle, can be This live-long Minute true to thee, 'Tis all that Heav'n allows.

For all Men would be Cowards if they durst: And Honesty's against all common Sense.

Before I got married I had six theories about bringing up children; now I have six children and no theories.

If you have a grateful heart (which is a miracle amongst you statesmen), show it by directing the bearer to the best wine in town, and pray let not this highest point of sacred friendship be performed slightly, but go about it with all due deliberation and care, as holy priests to sacrifice, or as discreet thieves to the wary performance of burglary and shop-lifting. Let your well-discerning palate (the best judge about you) travel from cellar to cellar and then from piece to piece till it has lighted on wine fit for its noble choice and my approbation.

On thy wither'd lips and dry, Which like barren furrows lie, Brooding kisses I will pour, Shall thy youthful heart restore. (Such kind showers in autumn fall, And a second spring recall); Nor from thee will ever part, Ancient Person of my Heart.

The clog of all pleasure, the luggage of life, Is the best can be said for a very good wife.