“The Royal Buss”

“The Royal Buss” in George deF. Lord. Ed. Poems on Affairs of State: Augustan Satirical Verse, 1660–1714. Volume I: 1660–1678. New Haven, CT & London: Yale University Press, 1963, 263–4.

Uncertainly attributed to John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, this poem attacks Charles II’s attempts at suppressing Parliamentary action through his relationship with Louise de Keroualle (Carwell).

The Royal Buss

As in the days of yore was odds
Between the giants and the gods,
So now is rife a fearful brawl
Between the Parliament and Whitehall.
But, bless’d be Jove, the gods of ours
Are greater in their guilt than pow’rs.
Though then the heathens were such fools,
Yet they made gods of better tools.
No altars then to plackets were,
No majesty by puss would swear.
They’d hang a tippet at his door
Should break a Parliament to please a whore,
And, further to oblige them to it,
Would swear by Carwell’s c—— he’d do it,
And by the contents of th’ oath he took,
Kneel down in zeal and kiss the book.
They’d think the faith too much amiss
That such defenders had as this;
And that religion look’d too poor,
Whose head of Church kiss’d arse of whore.
But this he did, much good may’t do him,
And then this queen held forth unto him.
The Devil take her for a whore!
Would he had kiss’d ten years before,
Before our city had been burn’d,
And all our wealth to plagues had turn’d;
Before she’d ruin’d (pox upon her!)
Our English name, blood, wealth, and honor.
Whilst Parliament too flippant gave,
And courtiers could but ask and have,
Whilst they were making English French,
And money’d vote to keep a wench,
And the buffoons and the pimps to pay,
The devil a bit prorogu’d were they.
The kiss of t—— instead had stood,
And might have done three nations good.
But when the Parliament would no more
Raise taxes to maintain the whore,
When they would not abide the awe
Of standing force instead of law,
When law, religion, property
They’d fence ’gainst will and Popery,
When they’d provide that all shall be
From slav’ry and oppression free,
That a writ of habeas corpus come,
And none in prison be undone,
That Englishmen should not, like beast,
To war by sea or land be press’d,
That peace with Holland should be made
When war had spoil’d our men and trade,
That treason it should be for any
Without Parliament to raise a penny,
That no courtier should be sent
To sit and vote in Parliament,
That when an end to this was gave,
A yearly Parliament we should have
According to the ancient law,
That mighty knaves may live in awe,
That King nor council should commit
An Englishman for wealth or wit,
Prerogative being ti’d thus tight
That it could neither scratch nor bite,
When whores began to be afear’d
Like armies they should be cashier’d,
Then Carwell, that incestuous punk,
Made our most gracious Sovereign drunk,
And drunk she let him give that buss
Which all of the kingdom’s bound to curse;
And so, red hot with wine and whore,
He kick’d the Parliament out of door.

Kiss.

Palace of the British monarch.

An apron or underskirt, or, by metonymy, the woman wearing said garment.

Scarf, usually worn by a woman.

Carwell was another name for the Duchess of Portsmouth, one of Charles II’s mistresses.

Reference to the Great Fire of 1666, in which much of the city of London burned. It followed hard on the heels of a recurrence of bubonic plague the year before.

Delayed, put off.