Chapter 32

5927 Words

by Here lies our Sovereign Lord the King, ⁠Whose word no man relies on, Who never said a foolish thing. ⁠Nor ever did a wise one. ⁠—Proffered Epitaph on Charles II Proffered Epitaph on Charles IIJohn Wilmot, Earl of Rochester (1647-1680) Yes, Jack Wilmot wrote so concerning me, and rallied me, saying these lines he would cut upon my monument; and now he is dead at thirty-three, while I live at fifty, none so merry a monarch as folks deem me. Jack’s verse makes me out a coxcomb, but he knew me not in my youth. He was but four, and sucking sugar-plums, when his father and I were fugitives after Worcester. Judge from this story, if he rhymes the truth of me. I think it was then, with the rain soaking my wretched borrowed clothes and the heavy tight plough-shoes rubbing my feet all to

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