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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:43:23 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:43:23 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/13972-0.txt b/13972-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5ad43d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/13972-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1177 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13972 *** + +[Transcriber's Note: The following was proofread from what appear to +be scans of photocopies of a reproduction of the original text. On top +of the original's battered type-face and archaic spellings, this +preparer, and the proofreaders before him, have had to contend with +dirty or faded images and missing margins. We have made our best +guesses as to the missing letters, but in some cases we were stymied; +those few places are marked with [*?]. In addition, the most obvious +printer's mistakes (transposed, missing, obviously incorrect, and even +upside-down letters) have been corrected.] + + + * * * * * + + THE + + Whores and Bawd's + + ANSWER + + TO THE + + Fifteen Comforts + + OF + + WHORING + + [Illustration] + + Printed in the Year, 1706. + + + + + The PREFACE. + + +_Indeed we the Ladies of Pleasures, and those that stile themselves +Procurers in Love Affairs, highly resent the late Paper put out +against our Profession and bespattering of us for using only our own; +but since it is the Way of the World for most Men to be inclinable to +love Lac'd Mutton, I think it is their Duty to resent the Affront with +us so much, as to Satyrize the Author of the_ Fifteen Comforts of +Whoring, _who without is some young bashful Effeminate Fool or +another, that knows not how to say_ Boh to a Goose; _or some old +suffocated old Wretch so far pass'd his Labour, that he scolds for +Madness that he cannot give a buxom young Lass her Benevolence; or +else he may an hundred to one be one of Captain_ Risby's _Fraternity, +and so must needs be a Woman Hater by Course. But let him be what he +will, so long as our Impudence is Case-harden'd we value not his +Reflections, and therefore will not leave our Vocation tho' Claps and +Poxes shou'd be our Portion every Day for according to an eminent +Whore now Deceas'd,_ + + + Clap, clap ye Whores, Clap as Clap can, + Some Clap to Women, we'll Clap the Men. + + + + + THE + Whores and Bawds, Answer, &c. + + + _The first Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd._ + + No sooner does a Maid arrive to Years, + And she the Pleasures of Conjunction hears, + But strait her Maidenhead a Tip-toe runs, + To get her like, in Daughters or in Sons; + Upon some jolly Lad she casts her Eye, + And with some am'rous Gestures by the by; + She gives him great Encouragement to take + His fill of Love, and swears that for his sake + She soon shall Die; which makes the Youth so hot + To get about the Maiden's Honey-pot, + That promising her Marriage and the like, + They both a Bargain very quickly Strike; + [*?] Rubbers often take till she does prove + With Child, then she bids adieu to Love; + And e're she's brought to Bed away does Creep, + For fear he should the Wenche's Urchin keep. + + + _The Second Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd._ + + Now when a Maid has crackt her Maidenhead, + By being once or twice (Sir) brought to Bed, + Her Credit then's so broke that all her Wit, + And Policy cannot a Husband get; + But yet not being out of Heart she Cries, + From Marriage keeping I shall be more wise, + For if he's not a Fool he soon will find, + I had before I'd him to some been kind, + Then how he'd call me arrant Bitch and Whore, + And Swear some Stallion had been there before; + Then leave me, Wherefore I will single Live, + And my Invention to decoying give, + For as I was by fickle Man betray'd, + So Men by me too shall be Bubbles made, + Till the dull Sots clandestine Means do take, + In robbing Masters,for a Strumpets sake, + For which if they shou'd at the Gallows Swing, + Their End I'd in some merry Ditty Sing. + + + _ The Third Comfort of whoring answer'd._ + + What tho' of Whoring it is the mishap, + Sometimes for him that Ruts to get a Clap, + Or an Invetrate Pox which may expose + His private Sports by Eating off his Nose; + How many by hard Drinking will Roar out + With Aches, Rheumatism's or the Gout, + When in that gorging, guzling, tipling Sin + There is not half the Pleasure, that there's in, + The soft Embraces of a Woman who + Altho' she is not to one Moral true, + Does strive to please your height of amorous Lust, + With such a ravishing and pleasing Gust, + That wou'd an Eunuch tempt to tast the same, + But that he Tools does want to play the Game. + + + _The fourth Comfort of Whoring answer'd._ + + Tho' Buboes, Nodes and Ulcers are the Marks, + Of many a wanton Beau and am'rous Sparks + And many a lustful Lecher oft complains + Of restless Days and damn'd nocturnal Pains, + Nays go into a Flux o dozen Weeks, + Is't not the Man himself these Sorrow seeks? + Besides, how often see you go astride + A Miss, as if she was with Packthread ty'd; + Who's Poxt and Clapt as much as you can be, + And undergoes a deal of Misery, + To give your wanton Appetites content, + [*?] feeding you with Flesh, altho' in Lent: + Therefore as the old Woman very Tart + Once said, when against Thunder she did Fart, + 'Twas only tit for tat, so if the Men + Do clap the Whores, and Whores Claps them agen, + Tis only tit for tat; tis very true, + What's good for Goose is good for Gander too. + + + _The fifth Comfort of Whoring answer'd._ + + What if a Man is in a marry'd State? + Confin'd to one does am'rous Heat abate, + Or shew me him (altho' he were in need.) + That always wou'd upon one Diet feed + When once a Woman's by a Man enjoy'd + For good and all, his Appetite is cloy'd. + Therefore he fixes on some wanton Miss + Whom rather than his Wife behalf he'd Kiss, + For as it's oft reported now a days, + A Thing that's fresh, fresh Courage, too will raise + + + _The Sixth Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd_ + + What Man wou'd shun the Plagues of Pox and Pills, + Or all the ails that are in Doctors Bills, + Rather than not be circled in the Arms + Of one that tempts you with a thousand Charms, + And tho' she long has lost her Maidenhead, + Yet such Dexterity she'll shew in Bed, + That, Sir, your Mouth wou'd water o're and o're, + To feed again upon a skilful Whore. + + + _The seventh Comfort of Whoring Answer'd._ + + 'Tis true, the Fop that thinketh to secure'd + To himself, in private Lodgins some fine Whore + He is a Fool, for she'll not be confin'd, + To any Man altho' he's are so kind; + For being then high Pampered and Fed, + In absence of her Cull she takes to Bed + Another, that with Gold allures her too, + That she may not to her Gallant be true; + For thinks she, when her Chap is tir'd quite, + And turns her off in others to delight, + From all she can she'll privately receive, + Which may her great Necessities relieve, + When that she bids adieu her Master's Bed, + To get by publick jilting Tricks her Bread. + + + _The eighth Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd._ + + If any Man's in Love with any Whore, + Why ought he not to lavish all his Store + Upon her? Since, to make the Fop admire, + Those prety Features which sets him a fire, + She's often at the Charge of Velvit Hoods, + Silk Stockins, Velvit Scarves and other Goods, + Lac'd Shoes, rich Mantoe's, Gloves and Diamond Rings + Fine Linnen, Gowns, and other costly things. + + + _The ninth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd_ + + If any has a Jilt some time sustain'd, + Who has imperious o're his Pocket reign'd, + And he's grown weary of so sweet a Life, + Or else being jealous takes to him a Wife; + The Whore can do no less than fling and tear, + And on th' inconstant Coxcomb Vengeance swaer, + For leaving her in this her state of Sin; + And let the World know what the Spark has been, + Unless a Pension he to her allows, + That she may not his Roguery disclose. + + + _The tenth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd._ + + T'is true we Harlots work by various means, + And act our Parts behind too diff'rent Scenes; + Sometimes we do a Bastard lay to those, + That never did so much as touch our Cloaths; + Perhaps too ne'er were in our Company, + So Guineas get by this same Subtilty; + And many times a Pocket too we pick, + For at no mischief will a Strumpit stick; + For once a Woman's bad, there's no relief + By being only Whore, but also Thief. + + + _The Eleventh Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd._ + + We'll have you know, of Whores are very few, + That will to any Man be ever true; + To us all Men for Money are alike, + With Skips as soon as Beaus we bargains strike; + And gad no sooner is a Cully gone, + But quick another in his Room gets on. + + + _The Twelfth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd._ + + Besides great Charges we are at for Cloaths, + To tempt the Fancies of our cringing Beaus, + We Pimps and Bullies keep to be our Bail, + When Sharping Bailiffs nabb us for a Jayl. + + + _The Thirteenth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd._ + + Again as we to _Bridewel_ oft are sent, + To undergo a flauging Punishment, + A bribe to him that Whips us then is gi'n, + To have Compassion to our tender Skin. + + + _The Fourteenth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd._ + + With pretty winning ways we do assure, + Our selves to bring the Woodcocks to our Lure + As ogling wishfully, and having Tongue, + Which tho' 'tis false, yet with good Language hung + And if we have a Voice that's good, we sing + And _Syren_ like our Fops to ruin bring; + Then how we Strumpets do rejoyce to see, + The wiser Sex undone by Lechery. + + + _The Fifteenth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd._ + + But now good lack-a-day our Trade's so bad, + That truly Customers can scarce be had, + Through those sly Whore's that do in privat dwell, + So (but a story sad it is to tell) + Our common Whores can scarce their Livings get + By all the means of an intrieguing Wit. + For _Drury Lane_, in _Fleetstreet_ or the _Strand_, + Hours we walk e're any by the Hand, + Will take us, wherefore as we daggle home, + Some prick-louse _Taylor_ strutting up will come, + With whom for want we're forced to comply, + for one poor two pence wet, and two pence dry. + + + _FINIS._ + + + * * * * * + + THE + + Fifteen PLAGUES + + OF A + + Maiden-Head + + Written by Madam B----le. + + [Illustration] + + LONDON: + + Printed by F.P. near _Fleet-street_, 1707. + + + + + THE + + Fifteen Plagues of a + + Maiden-Head, _&c._ + + + _The First Plague._ + + The Woman Marry'd is Divinely Blest, + But I a Virgin cannot take my Rest; + I'm discontented up, as bad a Bed, + Because I'm plagued with my Maiden-head; + A thing that do's my blooming Years no good, + But only serves to freeze my youthful Blood, + Which slowly Circulates, do what I can, + For want of Bleeding by some skilful Man; + Whose tender hand his _Launcet_ so will guide, + That I the Name of _Maid_ may lay aside. + + + _The Second Plague._ + + When I've beheld an am'rous Youth make Love, + And swearing Truth by all the Gods above, + How has it strait inflam'd my sprightly Blood + Creating Flames, I scarcely should withstood, + But bid him boldly march, not grant me leisure + Of Parley, for 'tis Speed augments the Pleasure. + Sirrah! tis my Misfortune not to meet + With any Man that would my Passion greet, + If he with balmy Kisses stop'd my Breath, + From which one cannot die a better Death, + Or stroke my Breasts, those Mountains of Delight, + Your very Touch would fire an Anchorite; + Next let your wanton Palm a little stray, + And dip thy Fingers in the milky way: + Then having raiz'd me, let me gently fall, + Love's Trumpets sound, so Mortal have at all. + But why wish I this Bliss? I wish in vain, + And of my plaguy Burthen do complain; + For sooner may I see whole Nations dead, + But I find one to get my Maiden-head. + + + _The Third Plague._ + + She that her Maiden-head does keep, runs through + More Plagues than all the Land of _Egypt_ knew; + A teazing Whore, or a more tedious Wife, + Plagues not a Marry'd Man's unhappy Life, + As much as it do's me to be a Maid, + Of which same Name I am so much afraid, + Because I've often heard some People tell, + They that die Maids, must all lead Apes in Hell; + And so 'twere better I had never been, + Than thus to be perplex'd: _God save the Queen._ + + + _The Fourth Plague._ + + When trembling Pris'ners all stand round the Bar, + A strange suspence about the fatal Verdict, + And when the Jury crys they Guilty are, + How they astonish'd are when they have heard it. + When in mighty Storm a Ship is toss'd, + And all do ask, What do's the Captain say? + How they (poor Souls) bemoan themselves as lost, + When his Advice at last is only, Pray! + So as it was one Day my pleasing Chance, + To meet a handsome young Man in a Grove, + Both time and place conspir'd to advance + The innocent Designs of charming Love. + I thought my Happiness was then compleat, + Because 'twas in his Pow'r to make it so; + I ask'd the Spark if he would do the Feat, + But the unperforming Blockhead answer'd, _No_. + Poor Prisoners may, I see, have Mercy shewn, + And Shipwreck'd Men may sometimes have the Luck, + To see their dismal Tempests overblown, + But I poor Virgin never shall be F----. + + + _The Fifth Plague._ + + All Day poor I do sit Disconsolate, + Cursing the grievous Rigor of my Fate, + To think how I have seven Years betray'd, + To that dull empty Title of a Maid. + If that I could my self but Woman write, + With what transcendent Pleasure and Delight, + Should I for ever, thrice for ever Bless, + The Man that led me to such Happiness. + + + _The Sixth Plague._ + + Pox take the thing Folks call a Maiden-head, + For soon as e'er I'm sleeping in my Bed, + I dream I'm mingling with some Man my Thigh, + Till something more than ord'nary does rise; + But when I wake and find my Dream's in vain, + I turn to Sleep only to Dream again, + For Dreams as yet are only kind to me, + And at the present quench my Lechery. + + + _The Seventh Plague._ + + Of late I wonder what's with me the Matter, + For I look like Death, and am as weak as Water, + For several Days I loath the sight of Meat, + And every Night I chew the upper Sheet; + [*?]e such Obstructions, that I'm almost moap'd, + And breath as if my Vitals all were stop'd. + I told a Friend how strange with me it was, + She, an experienc'd Bawd, soon grop'd the Cause, + Saying, _for this Disease, take what you can, + You'll ne'er be well, till you have taken Man._ + Therefore, before with Maiden-heads I'll be + Thus plagu'd, and live in daily Misery, + Some Spark shall rummage all my Wem about, + To find this wonderful Distemper out. + + + _The Eighth Plague._ + + Now I am young, blind _Cupid_ me bewitches, + I scratch my Belly, for it always itches, + And what it itches for, I've told before, + 'Tis either to be Wife, or be a Whore; + Nay any thing indeed, would be poor I, + N'er Maiden-heads upon my Hands should lie, + Which till I lose, I'm sure my watry Eyes + Will pay to Love so great a Sacrifice, + That my Carcass soon will weep out all its Juice, + Till grown so dry, as fit for no Man's use. + + + _The Ninth Plague._ + + By all the pleasant Postures of Delight, + By all the Twines and Circles of the Night, + By the first Minute of those Nuptial Joys, + When Men put fairly for a Brace of Boys, + Dying a Virgin once I more do dread, + Than ten times losing of a _Maiden head_; + For tho' it can't be seen nor understood, + Yet is it troublesome to Flesh and Blood. + + + _The Tenth Plague._ + + You heedless Maids, whose young and tender Hearts + Unwounded yet, have scop'd the fatal Darts; + Let the sad Fate of a poor Virgin move, + And learn by me to pay Respect to Love. + If one can find a Man fit for Love's Game, + To lose one's Maiden-head it is no Shame: + 'Tis no Offence, if from his tender Lip + I snatch a tonguing Kiss; if my fond Clip + With loose Embraces oft his Neck surround, + For Love in Debts of Nature's ever bound. + + + _The Eleventh Plague._ + + A _Maiden head_! Pish, in it's no Delight, + Nor have I Ease, but when returning Night, + With Sleep's soft gentle Spell my Senses charms, + Then Fancy some Gallant brings to my Arms: + In them I oft the lov'd Shadow seem + To grasp, and Joys, yet blush I too in Dream. + I wake, and long my Heart in Wonder lies, + To think on my late pleasing Extasies: + But when I'm waking, and don't yet possess, + In Sleep again I wish to enjoy the Bliss: + For Sleep do's no malicious Spies admit, + Yet yields a lively Semblance of Delight. + Gods! what a Scene of Joy was that! how fast + I clasp'd the Vision to my panting Breast? + With what fierce Bounds I sprung to meet the Bliss, + While my wrapt Soul flew out in ev'ry Kiss! + Till breathless, faint, and softly sunk away, + I all dissolv'd in reaking Pleasures lay. + + + _The Twelfth Plague._ + + Happen what will, I'll make some Lovers know + What Pains, what raging Pains I undergo, + Till I am really Heart-sick, almost Dead, + By keeping that damn'd thing a Maiden-head. + Which makes me with Green Sickness almost lost, + So pale, so wan, and looking like a Ghost, + Eating Chalk, Cindars, or Tobacco-Pipes, + Which with a Looseness scowers all my Tripes; + But e'er I'll longer this great Pain endure, + The Stews I'll search, but that I'll find a Cure. + + + _The Thirteenth Plague._ + + Let doating Age debate of _Law_ and _Right_, + And gravely state the Bounds of Just and Fit; + Whose Wisdom's but their Envy, to destroy + And bar those Pleasures which they can't enjoy. + My blooming Years, more sprightly and more gay, + By Nature were design'd for Love and Play: + Youth knows no Check, but leaps weak Virtue's Fence, + And briskly hunts the noble Chace of Sense! + Without dull thinking I'll Enjoyment trace, + And call that lawful whatsoe'er do's please. + Nor will my Crime want Instances alone, + 'Tis what the Glorious Gods above have done; + For _Saturn_, and his greater Off-spring _Jove_, + Both stock'd their Heaven with Incestuous Love. + + + _The Fourteenth Plague._ + + If any Man do's with my Bubbies play, + Squeeze my small Hand, as soft as Wax or Clay, + Or lays his Hands upon my tender Knees, + What strange tumultuous Joys upon me seize! + My Breasts do heave, and languish do my Eyes, + Panting's my Heart, and trembling are my Thighs; + I sigh, I wish, I pray, and seem to die, + In one continu'd Fit of Ecstacy; + Thus by my Looks may Man know what I mean, + And how he easily may get between + Those Quarters, where he may surprize a Fort, + In which an Emperor may find such Sport, + That with a mighty Gust of Love's Alarms, + He'd lie dissolving in my circling Arms; + But 'tis my Fate to have to do with Fools, + Who're very loth and shy to use their Tools, + To ease a poor, and fond distressed Maid, + Of that same Load, of which I'm not afrad + To lose with any Man, tho' I should die, + For any Tooth (good Barber) is my Cry. + + + _The Fifteenth Plague._ + + Alas! I care not, Sir, what Force you'd use, + So I my Maiden-head could quickly lose: + Oft do I wish one skill'd in _Cupid_'s Arts, + Would quickly dive into my secret Parts; + For as I am, at Home all sorts of Weather, + I kit,----as Heaven and Earth would come together, + Twirling a Wheel, I sit at home, hum drum, + And spit away my Nature on my Thumb; + Whilst those that Marry'd are, invited be + To Labours, Christnings, where the Jollitry + Of Women lies in telling, as some say, + When 'twas they did at Hoity-Toity play; + Whose Husband's Yard is longest, whilst another + Can't in the least her great Misfortune smother, + So tells, her Husband's Bauble is so short, + That when he Hunts, he never shews her Sport. + Now I, because I have my Maiden-head, + Mayn't know the Pastimes of the Nuptial Bed; + But mayn't I quickly do as Marry'd People may, + I'll either kill my self, or shortly run away. + + + _FINIS._ + + + * * * * * + + _The_ Maids _Vindication:_ + + OR, THE + + Fifteen Comforts of living a Single Life. + + + Being an _ANSWER_ to the _Fifteen + Plagues of a Maiden-head_. + + + _Written by a Gentlewoman._ + + [Illustration] + + _London_, Printed for _J. Rogers_ in _Fleet-Street_, 1707. + + + + + _The_ Maids _Vindication:_ + + OR, + + + The Fifteen Comforts of + being a Maid, _&c._ + + + _The First Comfort._ + + Ye _British_ Maids with _British_ Beauty blest, + Wife as you're Fair, of ev'ry Grace possest, + Do not the least degenerate from your Worth, + Nor be less Chaste because you're thus set forth; + Have Patience then, and I'll revenge your Cause, + And all the deep Designs of wicked Men expose, + Shew the dear Comforts of a Single Life, + With all the Plagues and Ills of Wh----re or Wife. + + + _The Second Comfort._ + + Tell me you Grave Disputers of the Schools, + You learned Coxcombs, and you well read Fools; + You that have told us, Man must be our Head, + And made _Dame Nature_ Pimp to what you've said, + Tell me where are the Joys of womans Life, + When she consents to be a wedded Wife: + Much less if she too kind and easie proves, + And grants her Heart to one that swears he loves, + I will not call her W----re, because I know + 'Twas his false Oaths and Lyes that made her so: + But you that would to your own selves be just, + Nor Friend nor Husband but with caution trust. + + + _The Third Comfort._ + + And first, the greatest lasting'st Plague of Life, + Husband; the Constant Jaylor of a wife, + A proud insulting dominering thing, + Abroad a subject, but at Home a King, + There he in State does Arbitrary Reign, + And lordlike pow'r do's o'er his wife maintain. + For when she puts the Marriage Garments on, } + The pleasures Ended e'er 'tis well begun: } + But Plagues increase and hardly e're have done, } + The joy he Courted he dispises now, + And do's a perfect Married Nausiance grow, + + + _The Fourth Comfort._ + + It's Jealousie that maggot of the pate, + Possess the Sot, how violent's his hate, + What curst suspitions haunt his tortur'd Mind, + And make him look for what he would not find, + Nothing but Females must i'th House appear, + And not a Dog or Cat, that's Male be there, + Nay lest the unhappy wife shou'd have her longings, + He cuts out all the Men i'th Tapstry Hangings, + And if a harmless Letter's to her sent, + He'll make it speak worse sense than e'er it meant. + + + _The Fifth Comfort._ + + In a Curst Chamber, Cloyster'd up for Life, + Loves Female Innocence miscall'd a wife, + Deny'd those Pleasures are to Virtue granted, + Yearly the Devil of a Husband haunted, + for a Release she cannot Hope nor Pray, + Till milder Death takes him, or her away, + If her she's happy, and if him she's bless'd, + Till to her arms she takes a second Guest. + + + _The Sixth Comfort._ + + If Beauty, Wit, or Com[*?]aisance would do, + There's women that can all these wonders show, + Beauty that might new fire to Hermit lend, + And wit which serves that Beauty to defend, + who courted, cou'd do wonders with those Charms, + Till Parson conjur'd her to Husbands Arms, + And tho' the same perfections still remain + Yet nothing now can the dull Creature gain, + No looks can win him, nor no Smiles invite, + He now does her, and her Endearments slight, + And leaves those Graces which he shou'd adore, + To dote upon some Ugly suburb whore, + whilst poor neglected Spouse remains at home, + with discontent and Sorrow overcome, + No prayers, nor tears, nor all the Virtuous arts. + which women use to tame Rebellous Hearts. + Can the Incorrigible H[*?] move, + And make him own his once so promis'd love, + + + _The Seventh Comfort_ + + Oh she a happy, too too happy Bride, + That has a Husband snoring by her side, + Belching out Fumes of undigested wine, + And lies all Night like a good natur'd Swine, + whose Snoring serves as Musick to her Ears, + And keeps true Confort with her silent Tears, + That can himself no more than _Chaos_ move, + And still neglects the great affair of love, + She may indeed assume the name of wife, + But others know she's but a Nurse for life. + + + _The Eighth Comfort._ + + A drunken Husband tho may have good nature, + But here's a fullen Matrimonial Creature, + will ask, and will not, will ask, and will deny + Is Peevish, Cross, and cannot tell for why, + Not one kind look he will to Spouse afford, + Scarce speake at all, at least not one good word, + All the obliging arts that she can use, + To reconcile this angry pevish Spouse, + Avail no more, than if she took delight, + In washing Bricks, or Swarthy _Negroes_ white, + Lyons, and Tyger Men have learnt to tame; + Retaining nothing frightful but the Name, + But Man, unruly man, that Beast of reason, + 'Gainst women still continues in his Treason. + No Charms his damn'd ill nature can release, + _Satan_, must only _Satan_ disposes. + + + _The Ninth Comfort._ + + Nor Marriage is alone the dang'rous shelf, + On which a woman may destroy her self, + Believe no whineing Fool that Swears he loves, + And for your Pity to his Passion moves: + with fair decoying words he glids the Cheat, + Tells her the Sin, nor Danger are so great, + The joy is past the reach of Humane view, + And adds it will for ever bind him to be True: + But oh! if Maids upon this Quicksand run, + They're lost past hope, and are for e'er undone, + + + _The Tenth Comfort._ + + Another swears he'll keep you all your Life, + Without the ugly Names, _of Man and Wife_. + And to that End what Arts, what Tricks are laid, + T' insnare the Virtuous Young unthinking Maid, + What rev'rend Bawd's made use of to Entice, + The Fair one's liking to that Modish Vice. + How she at last is guided to his Arms, + Where for a while he Doats upon her Charms. + But long she can't the airy Title hold, + Her look'd for Joys are scarce a Twelve Month Old, + Before _Kind Keeper_ takes another Miss, + By sad Experience weary grown of this. + + + _The Eleventh Comfort._ + + Are these the Sov'reigns then that we must own, + Must we before their Golden Calves bow down, + Forgive us Heav'n, if we renounce the Elves, + And make a Common-wealth among our Selves, + Whereby the Laws that we shall there Ordain. + We'll make it Capital to mention Man, + Man! we'll for ever banish from our sight, + Not talk by Day, nor think of them by Night, + We'll shun their Courtship, as we do the Plague, + And loath 'em more than they a Toothless Hagg. + + + _The Twelfth Comfort._ + + 'Tis not their Sighs, Crying, nor Prayers, + Their subtile Whinings, nor Treacherous Tears, + That shall one kind Return for ever gain, + But when t' oblige us they've done all they can, + We'll laugh, deride, and scorn the Foppish Sex, + And wrank Invention for new ways to vex, + Till they to shun us, prompted by Despair, + Or Drown themselves, or hung in cleanly Air. + + + _The Thirteenth Comfort._ + + But if amongst us there should chance to be, + One silly fond regardless foolish She, + That spight of all our Edicts will maintain + A League with that detested Creature _Man:_ + Good Counsels first shall strive to bring her off, + But if the Fool will that good Counsel scoff, + If she the freedom of her Sex will leave, + And love a Wretch she knows that will deceive, + From Pity well exempt the _Female_ Sot, + That wretched Thing a _Husband_ be her Lot. + + + _The Fourteenth Comfort._ + + Jealous by Day, and Impotent by Night, + Have neither Shape nor Mein to please the Sight + Diseas'd in Body, and deform'd in Soul, + Conceited, Proud, yet all the while a Fool: + May she with him spin out a tedious Life, + Blest with that much admir'd Title, _Wife_. + And may no Female better Fate partake, + That prophane the wholsome Laws we make. + + + _The Fifteenth Comfort._ + + And may the silly Maid that is so blind, } + To trust Man's Oaths that are as false as Wind, } + And only to her Ruin are design'd, } + That thinks her Vertue is a Plague of Life, + And will to cure it, yield as Whore or Wife. + Find all the Ills that have before been said, + And lose for endless Plauges her Maiden-head, + Who will not bear what they infer a Pain, + And laugh at all the base Delights of Men. + + + _FINIS._ + + + * * * * * + + THE + + Fifteen PLEASURES + + OF A + + VIRGIN. + + WRITTEN + + By the suppos'd AUTHOR of + + THE + + Fifteen Plagues + + OF A + + Maidenhead. + + + _Virtus, repulsæ nescia fortidæ, + Intimitatis fulget honoribus._ Hor. L. 3. Od. 1. + + + LONDON: Printed in the Year, 1709. + + + + + AN + + APOLOGY + + FOR + + The Fifteen Plagues of a Maidenhead, + by the Imputed Author thereof. + + + Suppose 'twas I, you thought, had drew my Pen + On Virtue, see I fight for her agen; + Wherefore, I hope my Foes will all excuse + Th' Extravagance of a Repenting Muse; + Pardon whate'er she has too boldly said, + She only acted then in Masquerade; + But now the Vizard's off, She's chang'd her Scene, + And turns a Modest, Civil Girl agen; + Let some admire the Fops whose Talent lie + Inventing dull, insipid Blasphemy; + I swear I cannot with those Terms dispence, + Nor won't be Damn'd for the Repute of Sense; + I cou'd be Bawdy much, and nick the Times, + In what they dearly Love; damn'd Placket Rhimes; + But that such Naus'ous Lines can reach no higher + Than what the Cod-Piece or Buffoons inspire. + + To noble Satyr, I'll direct my Aim, + And bite Mankind, and Poetry Reclaim; + I'll ever use my Wit another Way, + And next the Ugliness of Vice display. + + _Yours, &c._ + + + + + THE + + FIFTEEN P----s + + OF A + + VIRGIN. + + + _The first P----._ + + In these unhappy and more wretched Days, + Eclipsed with Debauchery and Plays! + Virgins can scarce stir out, but some dull Fop, + Impertinently kind, her way will stop, + And almost force Her to some House of Sin, + Her Innocence and Virtue to draw in; + And if he can her Modesty invade, + Glad with her Spoils and Trophies of a Maid, + The Villain is the first that will complain + Her foul Dishonour, and polluted Shame. + + + _The Second P----._ + + A Maid dispos'd to take the gentle Air, + And to _Grays-Inn_, or _Temple-Walks_ repair; + No sooner enters she the Garden Gate, + Sits down, and thinks of going e're 'tis late, + But some insipid Squire having spy'd her, + Takes Heart of Steel, and boldly squats beside her. + He thus accosts her,--Madam, _Ah! by Gad + You're wond'rous Fair; but Lady, why so sad?_ + Her Innocence he thinks will soon submit, + To all the swagg'ring Tyrants of his Wit; + But being strictly taught in Vertue's School, + She does not only slight the prating Fool, + Contemn'd his Actions, and his feigned Tone, + But leaves the Lawyer strait to Curse alone. + + + _The Third P----._ + + The Maid that's Blessed with a beauteos Face, + A gentile Air, and as genteel a Grace; + On her some am'rous Beau soon casts his Eyes, + And to obtain the much admired Prize; + He fashionably dresses, struts, looks big, + Like _John_ of _Gaunt_, and in a pond'rous Wig; + A subtle, sly, and cunning Ambuscade, + For her Virginity is quickly laid; + Of Love he tells a Thousand Fictious Tales, + Till over her Discretion Lust prevails, + But modest Maids, whose young and tender Hearts + Unwounded yet, have the scap'd fatal Darts; + Let the sad Fates of wanton Strumpets move, + And learn by them to shun unlawful Love: + Thus Virgins, if you'll Modesty embrace, + By making all Allurements give you place: + Virtue a Sanctuary e'er shall be + Against the Quivers of Iniquity. + + + _The Fourth P----._ + + A Maid of honest, but mean Parents Born, + These Times is only made the rich Man's scorn, + Howe'er her Beauty tempting some young Spark + He takes her to the Playhouse and the Park, + Where he with many Imprecations vows, + His Fortune and his Life to her he owes; + But finding his Temptations are in vain, + Her Company in Wrath he do's refrain; + Which at the first may touch her tender Heart, + And make her feel the force of _Cupid_'s Dart; + But Time and Absence Having made a Cure + Of that same Plague she could not first endure. + She says, as now I'm well, recite not then + The Falshood and Deceit of Perjur'd Men, + Virtue retain'd, that Man I'll ever slight, + Whom I cannot by Marriage claim my Right. + + + _The Fifth P----, in a Dialogue betwixt_ Cloris + _and_ Parthenisea. + + _Clo._ Why dost thou all Address deny? + Hard-hearted _Parthenisea_, why? + See how the trembling Lovers come, + That from thy Lips expect their Doom. + + _Par._ _Cloris!_ I hate them all, they know, + Nay I have often told them so; + Their silly Politicks abhorr'd: + I scorn to make my Slave my Lord. + + _Clo._ But _Strephon_'s Eyes proclaim His Love + Too brave, Tyrannical to prove. + + _Par._ Ah _Cloris!_ when we lost our Power? + We must obey the Conqueror. + + _Clo._ Yet when a gentle Prince bears sway, + It is no Bondage to Obey. + + _Par._ But if like _Nero_, for a while, + With Arts of Kindness he beguile, + How shall the Tyrant be withstood, + When he has writ his Laws in Blood? + + _Clo._ Love (_Parthenisea_) all commands, + it fetters Kings in charming Bands; + _Mars_ yields his Arms to _Cupid_'s Darts, + And Beauty softens Savage Hearts. + + _Par._ Well may you choose to be a Wife, + I'll still retain a Single Life. + + + _The Sixth P----._ + + Rid of a Coxcomb, next a Siege is laid + Against the weak Repulses of a Maid, + By one that keeps a Coach and Lackies too, + And that he might his wicked Plots pursue, + In gawdy Dress he would her Heart surprize, + with Gold to dazle her too watchful Eyes; + But Vertue cherishing her Virtuous Breast, + With so much Innocence which made her blest, + Her Innocence as hitherto ne'er knew + What Mischief _Venus_ or her Son cou'd do, + + + _The Seventh P----._ + + Where blindfold Fortune has been pleas'd to place + A Virgen with a Master void of Grace, + With Foot, with Hand, or Eyes, he'll Tokens speak, + The Signs deny, these Assignations make; + Thinks she shall be as pliant to his Use, + As Strumpets on a _Cornival_ let loose; + But if she's Chast, his Miss she will not be, + Unless she is as Fiend, and Base as he. + + + _The Eighth P----._ + + _A_ Negro _Courting onto a maid, + That was most Fair; to him she said, + Thy Ink, my Papper, make me guess, + Our Nuptial Bed will make a Press, + And to our Sports, if any came + They'll read a Wanton Epigram,_ + + + _The Ninth P----._ + + _How many Sweethearts do these follow me + Whose fell Design I know's to Ruine me; + but let me banish this forbidden Fire, + Or quench it with my Blood, or with't expire; + Unstain'd in Honour; and unhurt in Fame, + I'll never blast Virginity Shame,_ + + + _The Tenth P----._ + + _A Sailor vowing he would all his Life, + Be true to me, he took another Wife; + whose Folshood (not as e're he did Invade + My Honour) made me sick, and, dying, said, + Ah now at my last Hour I gasping lie: + Let only my kind Murtherer be by, + Let him, while I breath out my Soul in Sighs, + Or gaz't away, look on with pitying Eyes; + Let him (for sure he can't deny me this) + Seal my cold Lips with one dear parting Kiss._ + + + _The Eleventh P----._ + + _To have a Sweetheart once it was my Fate, + Whom much I lov'd, and now as much do hate, + Fo going to be coupled for my Life, + He was took from me by a former Wife; + Henceforwards I shall ever cautious be + Of Marrying one, a Stranger unto me._ + + + _The Twelfth P----._ + + _A Sweetheart whom I lov'd, and he lov'd me, + Intoxicated with Cursed Jealousie, + Without a Cause, my Innocence did slight, + Which urged soon my Passion thus to write, + Kind Health, which you, and only you can grant, + Which, if deny'd, I must for ever want; + To you your Lover sends; but blushing Shame, + In silence bids my Paper hide my Name. + Witness what Pains (for you alone can know) + Poor helpless I do bear and undergo; + A thousand Racks and Martyrdoms, and more + Than a weak Virgin can be thought, I bore: + You rule alone my Arbitrary Fate, + And Life and on your disposal wait. + How little more remains for me to crave! + How little more for you to give! O save + A wretched Maid undone by Love and you, + Who does in Tears and dying Accents sue; + Who bleeds that Passion she had ne'er reveal'd, + If not by Love, Almighty Love compell'd:_ + No ever let her mournful Tomb complain, + Here _Phillis_, kill'd by your cold Disdain; + And to her Honour let it e'er be said, + She dy'd a faithful Lover, yet a Maid. + + + _The Thirteenth P----._ + + Blessed with Beauty, Money, Youth and Wit, + I'm daily plagu'd with some Penurious Cit, + But e'er I will to such be forc'd to yield, + To a Man of Sense I Will resign the Field, + For Men of Breeding more of Love can show, + Than dull Mechanicks e'er can learn or know. + + + _The Fourteenth P----._ + + A Maid can scarce into a Service get, + But Prentice Boys (void both of Sense and Wit) + Will lead the Servant such a tedious Life, + To Change the Name of Maid to that of Wife, + That she, to shun their solid Impudence, + Must leave her Service in her own Defence. + + + _Fifteenth P----._ + + What spiteful Star, when I was Born did Rule, + That I'm thus teazed with a whining Fool, + Which is the very worst of Fools; for he, + Got in a Stran of dull Simplicity, + Crys, _Agdes!_ See my looks, my wishing Eyes, + My melting Tears and hear my begging Sighs; + About your Neck I could have flung my Arms, + And been all over Love, all over Charms; + Grasp and hang on your K----, and there have dy'd, + There breath my gasping Soul out tho' deny'd. + My earnest Suits shall never give you rest, + While Life and Love more durable shall last; + Alive I'll Pray, 'till Breath in Pray'rs be lost, + And after come a kind beseeching Ghost. + He thought these soft Expressions soon might move + My Heart, which was bequeath'd before to Love, + No, no, these whiedling Fops I really hate, + And since I am resolv'd to change my State, + A Man of Wit and Sense I do adore, + To him I grant my Favours and my Store, + As certain Wedlock with so good a Choice, + May make my Judgment, whilst I live rejoice. + + + _FINIS._ + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony: +Responses From Women, by Various + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13972 *** diff --git a/13972-h/13972-h.htm b/13972-h/13972-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..817906a --- /dev/null +++ b/13972-h/13972-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1185 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> + <meta content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" + http-equiv="content-type" /> + <title>The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony, with Answers</title> + <meta content="Fred Robinson" name="author" /> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[*/ + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + font-family: 'Californian FB','Times New Roman',serif} + p {text-align: justify;} + p.center {text-align: center;} + p.author {text-align: right;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + .inline {border: none; vertical-align: middle;} + + td.rj {text-align: right;} + + --> + /*]]>*/ + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13972 ***</div> + +<p>[Transcriber's Note: The following was proofread from what appear to +be scans of photocopies of a reproduction of the original text. On top +of the original's battered type-face and archaic spellings, this +preparer, and the proofreaders before him, have had to contend with +dirty or faded images and missing margins. We have made our best +guesses as to the missing letters, but in some cases we were stymied; +those few places are marked with [*?]. In addition, the most obvious +printer's mistakes (transposed, missing, obviously incorrect, and even +upside-down letters) have been corrected.]<br /><br /></p> + +<hr class="full"/> + +<h2>THE</h2> +<h2>Whores and Bawd's</h2> +<h1>ANSWER</h1> +<h2>TO THE</h2> +<h2>Fifteen Comforts</h2> +<h2>OF</h2> +<h1>WHORING</h1> +<hr /> +<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt="Hand in hand"/></div> +<hr /> +<p class="center">Printed in the Year, 1706.<br /><br /></p> + + +<h2>The PREFACE.</h2> + +<p><i>Indeed we the Ladies of Pleasures, and those that stile themselves +Procurers in Love Affairs, highly resent the late Paper put out +against our Profession and bespattering of us for using only our own; +but since it is the Way of the World for most Men to be inclinable to +love Lac'd Mutton, I think it is their Duty to resent the Affront with +us so much, as to Satyrize the Author of the</i> Fifteen Comforts of +Whoring, <i>who without is some young bashful Effeminate Fool or +another, that knows not how to say</i> Boh to a Goose; <i>or some old +suffocated old Wretch so far pass'd his Labour, that he scolds for +Madness that he cannot give a buxom young Lass her Benevolence; or +else he may an hundred to one be one of Captain</i> Risby's <i>Fraternity, +and so must needs be a Woman Hater by Course. But let him be what he +will, so long as our Impudence is Case-harden'd we value not his +Reflections, and therefore will not leave our Vocation tho' Claps and +Poxes shou'd be our Portion every Day for according to an eminent +Whore now Deceas'd,</i></p> + +<p class="poem">Clap, clap ye Whores, Clap as Clap can,<br /> +Some Clap to Women, we'll Clap the Men.<br /><br /></p> + + +<h2>THE</h2> +<h2>Whores and Bawds, Answer, &c.</h2> + +<table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" +summary="The Fifteen Comforts of Whoring"> +<tr><td><h3><i>The first Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>No sooner does a Maid arrive to Years,<br /> +And she the Pleasures of Conjunction hears,<br /> +But strait her Maidenhead a Tip-toe runs,<br /> +To get her like, in Daughters or in Sons;<br /> +Upon some jolly Lad she casts her Eye,<br /> +And with some am'rous Gestures by the by;<br /> +She gives him great Encouragement to take<br /> +His fill of Love, and swears that for his sake<br /> +She soon shall Die; which makes the Youth so hot<br /> +To get about the Maiden's Honey-pot,<br /> +That promising her Marriage and the like,<br /> +They both a Bargain very quickly Strike;<br /> +[*?] Rubbers often take till she does prove<br /> +With Child, then she bids adieu to Love;<br /> +And e're she's brought to Bed away does Creep,<br /> +For fear he should the Wenche's Urchin keep.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Second Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Now when a Maid has crackt her Maidenhead,<br /> +By being once or twice (Sir) brought to Bed,<br /> +Her Credit then's so broke that all her Wit,<br /> +And Policy cannot a Husband get;<br /> +But yet not being out of Heart she Cries,<br /> +From Marriage keeping I shall be more wise,<br /> +For if he's not a Fool he soon will find,<br /> +I had before I'd him to some been kind,<br /> +Then how he'd call me arrant Bitch and Whore,<br /> +And Swear some Stallion had been there before;<br /> +Then leave me, Wherefore I will single Live,<br /> +And my Invention to decoying give,<br /> +For as I was by fickle Man betray'd,<br /> +So Men by me too shall be Bubbles made,<br /> +Till the dull Sots clandestine Means do take,<br /> +In robbing Masters,for a Strumpets sake,<br /> +For which if they shou'd at the Gallows Swing,<br /> +Their End I'd in some merry Ditty Sing.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i> The Third Comfort of whoring answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>What tho' of Whoring it is the mishap,<br /> +Sometimes for him that Ruts to get a Clap,<br /> +Or an Invetrate Pox which may expose<br /> +His private Sports by Eating off his Nose;<br /> +How many by hard Drinking will Roar out<br /> +With Aches, Rheumatism's or the Gout,<br /> +When in that gorging, guzling, tipling Sin<br /> +There is not half the Pleasure, that there's in,<br /> +The soft Embraces of a Woman who<br /> +Altho' she is not to one Moral true,<br /> +Does strive to please your height of amorous Lust,<br /> +With such a ravishing and pleasing Gust,<br /> +That wou'd an Eunuch tempt to tast the same,<br /> +But that he Tools does want to play the Game.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The fourth Comfort of Whoring answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Tho' Buboes, Nodes and Ulcers are the Marks,<br /> +Of many a wanton Beau and am'rous Sparks<br /> +And many a lustful Lecher oft complains<br /> +Of restless Days and damn'd nocturnal Pains,<br /> +Nays go into a Flux o dozen Weeks,<br /> +Is't not the Man himself these Sorrow seeks?<br /> +Besides, how often see you go astride<br /> +A Miss, as if she was with Packthread ty'd;<br /> +Who's Poxt and Clapt as much as you can be,<br /> +And undergoes a deal of Misery,<br /> +To give your wanton Appetites content,<br /> +[*?] feeding you with Flesh, altho' in Lent:<br /> +Therefore as the old Woman very Tart<br /> +Once said, when against Thunder she did Fart,<br /> +'Twas only tit for tat, so if the Men<br /> +Do clap the Whores, and Whores Claps them agen,<br /> +Tis only tit for tat; tis very true,<br /> +What's good for Goose is good for Gander too.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The fifth Comfort of Whoring answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>What if a Man is in a marry'd State?<br /> +Confin'd to one does am'rous Heat abate,<br /> +Or shew me him (altho' he were in need.)<br /> +That always wou'd upon one Diet feed<br /> +When once a Woman's by a Man enjoy'd<br /> +For good and all, his Appetite is cloy'd.<br /> +Therefore he fixes on some wanton Miss<br /> +Whom rather than his Wife behalf he'd Kiss,<br /> +For as it's oft reported now a days,<br /> +A Thing that's fresh, fresh Courage, too will raise<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Sixth Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>What Man wou'd shun the Plagues of Pox and Pills,<br /> +Or all the ails that are in Doctors Bills,<br /> +Rather than not be circled in the Arms<br /> +Of one that tempts you with a thousand Charms,<br /> +And tho' she long has lost her Maidenhead,<br /> +Yet such Dexterity she'll shew in Bed,<br /> +That, Sir, your Mouth wou'd water o're and o're,<br /> +To feed again upon a skilful Whore.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The seventh Comfort of Whoring Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>'Tis true, the Fop that thinketh to secure'd<br /> +To himself, in private Lodgins some fine Whore<br /> +He is a Fool, for she'll not be confin'd,<br /> +To any Man altho' he's are so kind;<br /> +For being then high Pampered and Fed,<br /> +In absence of her Cull she takes to Bed<br /> +Another, that with Gold allures her too,<br /> +That she may not to her Gallant be true;<br /> +For thinks she, when her Chap is tir'd quite,<br /> +And turns her off in others to delight,<br /> +From all she can she'll privately receive,<br /> +Which may her great Necessities relieve,<br /> +When that she bids adieu her Master's Bed,<br /> +To get by publick jilting Tricks her Bread.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The eighth Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>If any Man's in Love with any Whore,<br /> +Why ought he not to lavish all his Store<br /> +Upon her? Since, to make the Fop admire,<br /> +Those prety Features which sets him a fire,<br /> +She's often at the Charge of Velvit Hoods,<br /> +Silk Stockins, Velvit Scarves and other Goods,<br /> +Lac'd Shoes, rich Mantoe's, Gloves and Diamond Rings<br /> +Fine Linnen, Gowns, and other costly things.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The ninth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>If any has a Jilt some time sustain'd,<br /> +Who has imperious o're his Pocket reign'd,<br /> +And he's grown weary of so sweet a Life,<br /> +Or else being jealous takes to him a Wife;<br /> +The Whore can do no less than fling and tear,<br /> +And on th' inconstant Coxcomb Vengeance swaer,<br /> +For leaving her in this her state of Sin;<br /> +And let the World know what the Spark has been,<br /> +Unless a Pension he to her allows,<br /> +That she may not his Roguery disclose.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The tenth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>T'is true we Harlots work by various means,<br /> +And act our Parts behind too diff'rent Scenes;<br /> +Sometimes we do a Bastard lay to those,<br /> +That never did so much as touch our Cloaths;<br /> +Perhaps too ne'er were in our Company,<br /> +So Guineas get by this same Subtilty;<br /> +And many times a Pocket too we pick,<br /> +For at no mischief will a Strumpit stick;<br /> +For once a Woman's bad, there's no relief<br /> +By being only Whore, but also Thief.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Eleventh Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>We'll have you know, of Whores are very few,<br /> +That will to any Man be ever true;<br /> +To us all Men for Money are alike,<br /> +With Skips as soon as Beaus we bargains strike;<br /> +And gad no sooner is a Cully gone,<br /> +But quick another in his Room gets on.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Twelfth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Besides great Charges we are at for Cloaths,<br /> +To tempt the Fancies of our cringing Beaus,<br /> +We Pimps and Bullies keep to be our Bail,<br /> +When Sharping Bailiffs nabb us for a Jayl.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Thirteenth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Again as we to <i>Bridewel</i> oft are sent,<br /> +To undergo a flauging Punishment,<br /> +A bribe to him that Whips us then is gi'n,<br /> +To have Compassion to our tender Skin.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fourteenth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>With pretty winning ways we do assure,<br /> +Our selves to bring the Woodcocks to our Lure<br /> +As ogling wishfully, and having Tongue,<br /> +Which tho' 'tis false, yet with good Language hung<br /> +And if we have a Voice that's good, we sing<br /> +And <i>Syren</i> like our Fops to ruin bring;<br /> +Then how we Strumpets do rejoyce to see,<br /> +The wiser Sex undone by Lechery.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fifteenth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>But now good lack-a-day our Trade's so bad,<br /> +That truly Customers can scarce be had,<br /> +Through those sly Whore's that do in privat dwell,<br /> +So (but a story sad it is to tell)<br /> +Our common Whores can scarce their Livings get<br /> +By all the means of an intrieguing Wit.<br /> +For <i>Drury Lane</i>, in <i>Fleetstreet</i> or the <i>Strand</i>,<br /> +Hours we walk e're any by the Hand,<br /> +Will take us, wherefore as we daggle home,<br /> +Some prick-louse <i>Taylor</i> strutting up will come,<br /> +With whom for want we're forced to comply,<br /> +for one poor two pence wet, and two pence dry.<br /><br /></td></tr> +</table> + +<h2><i>FINIS.</i><br /><br /></h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>THE</h2> +<h1>Fifteen PLAGUES</h1> +<h2>OF A</h2> +<h1>Maiden-Head</h1> +<hr /> +<p class="center">Written by Madam B----le.</p> +<hr /> +<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt="Printer's seal"/></div> +<hr /> +<p class="center">LONDON:<br /> +Printed by <i>F.P.</i> near <i>Fleet-street</i>, 1707.<br /><br /></p> + +<h2>THE</h2> +<h2>Fifteen Plagues of a</h2> +<h2>Maiden-Head, <i>&c.</i></h2> + +<table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" +summary="The Fifteen Plagues of a Maiden-Head"> +<tr><td><h3><i>The First Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> The Woman Marry'd is Divinely Blest,<br /> +But I a Virgin cannot take my Rest;<br /> +I'm discontented up, as bad a Bed,<br /> +Because I'm plagued with my Maiden-head;<br /> +A thing that do's my blooming Years no good,<br /> +But only serves to freeze my youthful Blood,<br /> +Which slowly Circulates, do what I can,<br /> +For want of Bleeding by some skilful Man;<br /> +Whose tender hand his <i>Launcet</i> so will guide,<br /> +That I the Name of <i>Maid</i> may lay aside.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Second Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> When I've beheld an am'rous Youth make Love,<br /> +And swearing Truth by all the Gods above,<br /> +How has it strait inflam'd my sprightly Blood<br /> +Creating Flames, I scarcely should withstood,<br /> +But bid him boldly march, not grant me leisure<br /> +Of Parley, for 'tis Speed augments the Pleasure.<br /> +Sirrah! tis my Misfortune not to meet<br /> +With any Man that would my Passion greet,<br /> +If he with balmy Kisses stop'd my Breath,<br /> +From which one cannot die a better Death,<br /> +Or stroke my Breasts, those Mountains of Delight,<br /> +Your very Touch would fire an Anchorite;<br /> +Next let your wanton Palm a little stray,<br /> +And dip thy Fingers in the milky way:<br /> +Then having raiz'd me, let me gently fall,<br /> +Love's Trumpets sound, so Mortal have at all.<br /> +But why wish I this Bliss? I wish in vain,<br /> +And of my plaguy Burthen do complain;<br /> +For sooner may I see whole Nations dead,<br /> +But I find one to get my Maiden-head.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Third Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> She that her Maiden-head does keep, runs through<br /> +More Plagues than all the Land of <i>Egypt</i> knew;<br /> +A teazing Whore, or a more tedious Wife,<br /> +Plagues not a Marry'd Man's unhappy Life,<br /> +As much as it do's me to be a Maid,<br /> +Of which same Name I am so much afraid,<br /> +Because I've often heard some People tell,<br /> +They that die Maids, must all lead Apes in Hell;<br /> +And so 'twere better I had never been,<br /> +Than thus to be perplex'd: <i>God save the Queen.</i><br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fourth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> When trembling Pris'ners all stand round the Bar,<br /> +A strange suspence about the fatal Verdict,<br /> +And when the Jury crys they Guilty are,<br /> +How they astonish'd are when they have heard it.<br /> +When in mighty Storm a Ship is toss'd,<br /> +And all do ask, What do's the Captain say?<br /> +How they (poor Souls) bemoan themselves as lost,<br /> +When his Advice at last is only, Pray!<br /> +So as it was one Day my pleasing Chance,<br /> +To meet a handsome young Man in a Grove,<br /> +Both time and place conspir'd to advance<br /> +The innocent Designs of charming Love.<br /> +I thought my Happiness was then compleat,<br /> +Because 'twas in his Pow'r to make it so;<br /> +I ask'd the Spark if he would do the Feat,<br /> +But the unperforming Blockhead answer'd, <i>No</i>.<br /> +Poor Prisoners may, I see, have Mercy shewn,<br /> +And Shipwreck'd Men may sometimes have the Luck,<br /> +To see their dismal Tempests overblown,<br /> +But I poor Virgin never shall be F----.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fifth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> All Day poor I do sit Disconsolate,<br /> +Cursing the grievous Rigor of my Fate,<br /> +To think how I have seven Years betray'd,<br /> +To that dull empty Title of a Maid.<br /> +If that I could my self but Woman write,<br /> +With what transcendent Pleasure and Delight,<br /> +Should I for ever, thrice for ever Bless,<br /> +The Man that led me to such Happiness.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Sixth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> Pox take the thing Folks call a Maiden-head,<br /> +For soon as e'er I'm sleeping in my Bed,<br /> +I dream I'm mingling with some Man my Thigh,<br /> +Till something more than ord'nary does rise;<br /> +But when I wake and find my Dream's in vain,<br /> +I turn to Sleep only to Dream again,<br /> +For Dreams as yet are only kind to me,<br /> +And at the present quench my Lechery.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Seventh Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> Of late I wonder what's with me the Matter,<br /> +For I look like Death, and am as weak as Water,<br /> +For several Days I loath the sight of Meat,<br /> +And every Night I chew the upper Sheet;<br /> +[*?]e such Obstructions, that I'm almost moap'd,<br /> +And breath as if my Vitals all were stop'd.<br /> +I told a Friend how strange with me it was,<br /> +She, an experienc'd Bawd, soon grop'd the Cause,<br /> +Saying, <i>for this Disease, take what you can,<br /> +You'll ne'er be well, till you have taken Man.</i><br /> +Therefore, before with Maiden-heads I'll be<br /> +Thus plagu'd, and live in daily Misery,<br /> +Some Spark shall rummage all my Wem about,<br /> +To find this wonderful Distemper out.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Eighth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> Now I am young, blind <i>Cupid</i> me bewitches,<br /> +I scratch my Belly, for it always itches,<br /> +And what it itches for, I've told before,<br /> +'Tis either to be Wife, or be a Whore;<br /> +Nay any thing indeed, would be poor I,<br /> +N'er Maiden-heads upon my Hands should lie,<br /> +Which till I lose, I'm sure my watry Eyes<br /> +Will pay to Love so great a Sacrifice,<br /> +That my Carcass soon will weep out all its Juice,<br /> +Till grown so dry, as fit for no Man's use.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Ninth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> By all the pleasant Postures of Delight,<br /> +By all the Twines and Circles of the Night,<br /> +By the first Minute of those Nuptial Joys,<br /> +When Men put fairly for a Brace of Boys,<br /> +Dying a Virgin once I more do dread,<br /> +Than ten times losing of a <i>Maiden head</i>;<br /> +For tho' it can't be seen nor understood,<br /> +Yet is it troublesome to Flesh and Blood.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Tenth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> You heedless Maids, whose young and tender Hearts<br /> +Unwounded yet, have scop'd the fatal Darts;<br /> +Let the sad Fate of a poor Virgin move,<br /> +And learn by me to pay Respect to Love.<br /> +If one can find a Man fit for Love's Game,<br /> +To lose one's Maiden-head it is no Shame:<br /> +'Tis no Offence, if from his tender Lip<br /> +I snatch a tonguing Kiss; if my fond Clip<br /> +With loose Embraces oft his Neck surround,<br /> +For Love in Debts of Nature's ever bound.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Eleventh Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> A <i>Maiden head</i>! Pish, in it's no Delight,<br /> +Nor have I Ease, but when returning Night,<br /> +With Sleep's soft gentle Spell my Senses charms,<br /> +Then Fancy some Gallant brings to my Arms:<br /> +In them I oft the lov'd Shadow seem<br /> +To grasp, and Joys, yet blush I too in Dream.<br /> +I wake, and long my Heart in Wonder lies,<br /> +To think on my late pleasing Extasies:<br /> +But when I'm waking, and don't yet possess,<br /> +In Sleep again I wish to enjoy the Bliss:<br /> +For Sleep do's no malicious Spies admit,<br /> +Yet yields a lively Semblance of Delight.<br /> +Gods! what a Scene of Joy was that! how fast<br /> +I clasp'd the Vision to my panting Breast?<br /> +With what fierce Bounds I sprung to meet the Bliss,<br /> +While my wrapt Soul flew out in ev'ry Kiss!<br /> +Till breathless, faint, and softly sunk away,<br /> +I all dissolv'd in reaking Pleasures lay.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Twelfth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> Happen what will, I'll make some Lovers know<br /> +What Pains, what raging Pains I undergo,<br /> +Till I am really Heart-sick, almost Dead,<br /> +By keeping that damn'd thing a Maiden-head.<br /> +Which makes me with Green Sickness almost lost,<br /> +So pale, so wan, and looking like a Ghost,<br /> +Eating Chalk, Cindars, or Tobacco-Pipes,<br /> +Which with a Looseness scowers all my Tripes;<br /> +But e'er I'll longer this great Pain endure,<br /> +The Stews I'll search, but that I'll find a Cure.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Thirteenth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> Let doating Age debate of <i>Law</i> and <i>Right</i>,<br /> +And gravely state the Bounds of Just and Fit;<br /> +Whose Wisdom's but their Envy, to destroy<br /> +And bar those Pleasures which they can't enjoy.<br /> +My blooming Years, more sprightly and more gay,<br /> +By Nature were design'd for Love and Play:<br /> +Youth knows no Check, but leaps weak Virtue's Fence,<br /> +And briskly hunts the noble Chace of Sense!<br /> +Without dull thinking I'll Enjoyment trace,<br /> +And call that lawful whatsoe'er do's please.<br /> +Nor will my Crime want Instances alone,<br /> +'Tis what the Glorious Gods above have done;<br /> +For <i>Saturn</i>, and his greater Off-spring <i>Jove</i>,<br /> +Both stock'd their Heaven with Incestuous Love.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fourteenth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> If any Man do's with my Bubbies play,<br /> +Squeeze my small Hand, as soft as Wax or Clay,<br /> +Or lays his Hands upon my tender Knees,<br /> +What strange tumultuous Joys upon me seize!<br /> +My Breasts do heave, and languish do my Eyes,<br /> +Panting's my Heart, and trembling are my Thighs;<br /> +I sigh, I wish, I pray, and seem to die,<br /> +In one continu'd Fit of Ecstacy;<br /> +Thus by my Looks may Man know what I mean,<br /> +And how he easily may get between<br /> +Those Quarters, where he may surprize a Fort,<br /> +In which an Emperor may find such Sport,<br /> +That with a mighty Gust of Love's Alarms,<br /> +He'd lie dissolving in my circling Arms;<br /> +But 'tis my Fate to have to do with Fools,<br /> +Who're very loth and shy to use their Tools,<br /> +To ease a poor, and fond distressed Maid,<br /> +Of that same Load, of which I'm not afrad<br /> +To lose with any Man, tho' I should die,<br /> +For any Tooth (good Barber) is my Cry.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fifteenth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> Alas! I care not, Sir, what Force you'd use,<br /> +So I my Maiden-head could quickly lose:<br /> +Oft do I wish one skill'd in <i>Cupid</i>'s Arts,<br /> +Would quickly dive into my secret Parts;<br /> +For as I am, at Home all sorts of Weather,<br /> +I kit,----as Heaven and Earth would come together,<br /> +Twirling a Wheel, I sit at home, hum drum,<br /> +And spit away my Nature on my Thumb;<br /> +Whilst those that Marry'd are, invited be<br /> +To Labours, Christnings, where the Jollitry<br /> +Of Women lies in telling, as some say,<br /> +When 'twas they did at Hoity-Toity play;<br /> +Whose Husband's Yard is longest, whilst another<br /> +Can't in the least her great Misfortune smother,<br /> +So tells, her Husband's Bauble is so short,<br /> +That when he Hunts, he never shews her Sport.<br /> +Now I, because I have my Maiden-head,<br /> +Mayn't know the Pastimes of the Nuptial Bed;<br /> +But mayn't I quickly do as Marry'd People may,<br /> +I'll either kill my self, or shortly run away.<br /><br /></td></tr> +</table> + +<h2><i>FINIS.</i><br /><br /></h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h1><i>The</i> Maids <i>Vindication:</i></h1> +<h2>OR, THE</h2> +<h2>Fifteen Comforts of living a Single Life.</h2> +<h2>Being an <i>ANSWER</i> to the <i>Fifteen<br /> +Plagues of a Maiden-head</i>.</h2> +<hr /> +<p class="center"><i>Written by a Gentlewoman.</i></p> +<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt="Woman and man"/></div> +<p class="center"><i>London</i>, Printed for <i>J. Rogers</i> in <i>Fleet-Street</i>, 1707.<br /><br /></p> + +<h3><i>The</i> Maids <i>Vindication:</i></h3> +<h3>OR,</h3> +<h2>The Fifteen Comforts of<br /> +being a Maid, <i>&c.</i></h2> + +<table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" +summary="The Fifteen Plagues of being a Maid"> +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The First Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> Ye <i>British</i> Maids with <i>British</i> Beauty blest,<br /> +Wife as you're Fair, of ev'ry Grace possest,<br /> +Do not the least degenerate from your Worth,<br /> +Nor be less Chaste because you're thus set forth;<br /> +Have Patience then, and I'll revenge your Cause,<br /> +And all the deep Designs of wicked Men expose,<br /> +Shew the dear Comforts of a Single Life,<br /> +With all the Plagues and Ills of Wh----re or Wife.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Second Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> Tell me you Grave Disputers of the Schools,<br /> +You learned Coxcombs, and you well read Fools;<br /> +You that have told us, Man must be our Head,<br /> +And made <i>Dame Nature</i> Pimp to what you've said,<br /> +Tell me where are the Joys of womans Life,<br /> +When she consents to be a wedded Wife:<br /> +Much less if she too kind and easie proves,<br /> +And grants her Heart to one that swears he loves,<br /> +I will not call her W----re, because I know<br /> +'Twas his false Oaths and Lyes that made her so:<br /> +But you that would to your own selves be just,<br /> +Nor Friend nor Husband but with caution trust.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Third Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> And first, the greatest lasting'st Plague of Life,<br /> +Husband; the Constant Jaylor of a wife,<br /> +A proud insulting dominering thing,<br /> +Abroad a subject, but at Home a King,<br /> +There he in State does Arbitrary Reign,<br /> +And lordlike pow'r do's o'er his wife maintain.<br /> +For when she puts the Marriage Garments on,<br /> +The pleasures Ended e'er 'tis well begun:<br /> +But Plagues increase and hardly e're have done,<br /> +The joy he Courted he dispises now,<br /> +And do's a perfect Married Nausiance grow,<br /><br /></td> +<td style="vertical-align: top;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +}<br /> +}<br /> +}<br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Fourth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> It's Jealousie that maggot of the pate,<br /> +Possess the Sot, how violent's his hate,<br /> +What curst suspitions haunt his tortur'd Mind,<br /> +And make him look for what he would not find,<br /> +Nothing but Females must i'th House appear,<br /> +And not a Dog or Cat, that's Male be there,<br /> +Nay lest the unhappy wife shou'd have her longings,<br /> +He cuts out all the Men i'th Tapstry Hangings,<br /> +And if a harmless Letter's to her sent,<br /> +He'll make it speak worse sense than e'er it meant.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Fifth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> In a Curst Chamber, Cloyster'd up for Life,<br /> +Loves Female Innocence miscall'd a wife,<br /> +Deny'd those Pleasures are to Virtue granted,<br /> +Yearly the Devil of a Husband haunted,<br /> +for a Release she cannot Hope nor Pray,<br /> +Till milder Death takes him, or her away,<br /> +If her she's happy, and if him she's bless'd,<br /> +Till to her arms she takes a second Guest.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Sixth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> If Beauty, Wit, or Com[*?]aisance would do,<br /> +There's women that can all these wonders show,<br /> +Beauty that might new fire to Hermit lend,<br /> +And wit which serves that Beauty to defend,<br /> +who courted, cou'd do wonders with those Charms,<br /> +Till Parson conjur'd her to Husbands Arms,<br /> +And tho' the same perfections still remain<br /> +Yet nothing now can the dull Creature gain,<br /> +No looks can win him, nor no Smiles invite,<br /> +He now does her, and her Endearments slight,<br /> +And leaves those Graces which he shou'd adore,<br /> +To dote upon some Ugly suburb whore,<br /> +whilst poor neglected Spouse remains at home,<br /> +with discontent and Sorrow overcome,<br /> +No prayers, nor tears, nor all the Virtuous arts.<br /> +which women use to tame Rebellous Hearts.<br /> +Can the Incorrigible H[*?] move,<br /> +And make him own his once so promis'd love,<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Seventh Comfort</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> Oh she a happy, too too happy Bride,<br /> +That has a Husband snoring by her side,<br /> +Belching out Fumes of undigested wine,<br /> +And lies all Night like a good natur'd Swine,<br /> +whose Snoring serves as Musick to her Ears,<br /> +And keeps true Confort with her silent Tears,<br /> +That can himself no more than <i>Chaos</i> move,<br /> +And still neglects the great affair of love,<br /> +She may indeed assume the name of wife,<br /> +But others know she's but a Nurse for life.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Eighth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> A drunken Husband tho may have good nature,<br /> +But here's a fullen Matrimonial Creature,<br /> +will ask, and will not, will ask, and will deny<br /> +Is Peevish, Cross, and cannot tell for why,<br /> +Not one kind look he will to Spouse afford,<br /> +Scarce speake at all, at least not one good word,<br /> +All the obliging arts that she can use,<br /> +To reconcile this angry pevish Spouse,<br /> +Avail no more, than if she took delight,<br /> +In washing Bricks, or Swarthy <i>Negroes</i> white,<br /> +Lyons, and Tyger Men have learnt to tame;<br /> +Retaining nothing frightful but the Name,<br /> +But Man, unruly man, that Beast of reason,<br /> +'Gainst women still continues in his Treason.<br /> +No Charms his damn'd ill nature can release,<br /> +<i>Satan</i>, must only <i>Satan</i> disposes.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Ninth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> Nor Marriage is alone the dang'rous shelf,<br /> +On which a woman may destroy her self,<br /> +Believe no whineing Fool that Swears he loves,<br /> +And for your Pity to his Passion moves:<br /> +with fair decoying words he glids the Cheat,<br /> +Tells her the Sin, nor Danger are so great,<br /> +The joy is past the reach of Humane view,<br /> +And adds it will for ever bind him to be True:<br /> +But oh! if Maids upon this Quicksand run,<br /> +They're lost past hope, and are for e'er undone,<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Tenth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> Another swears he'll keep you all your Life,<br /> +Without the ugly Names, <i>of Man and Wife</i>.<br /> +And to that End what Arts, what Tricks are laid,<br /> +T' insnare the Virtuous Young unthinking Maid,<br /> +What rev'rend Bawd's made use of to Entice,<br /> +The Fair one's liking to that Modish Vice.<br /> +How she at last is guided to his Arms,<br /> +Where for a while he Doats upon her Charms.<br /> +But long she can't the airy Title hold,<br /> +Her look'd for Joys are scarce a Twelve Month Old,<br /> +Before <i>Kind Keeper</i> takes another Miss,<br /> +By sad Experience weary grown of this.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Eleventh Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> Are these the Sov'reigns then that we must own,<br /> +Must we before their Golden Calves bow down,<br /> +Forgive us Heav'n, if we renounce the Elves,<br /> +And make a Common-wealth among our Selves,<br /> +Whereby the Laws that we shall there Ordain.<br /> +We'll make it Capital to mention Man,<br /> +Man! we'll for ever banish from our sight,<br /> +Not talk by Day, nor think of them by Night,<br /> +We'll shun their Courtship, as we do the Plague,<br /> +And loath 'em more than they a Toothless Hagg.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Twelfth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> 'Tis not their Sighs, Crying, nor Prayers,<br /> +Their subtile Whinings, nor Treacherous Tears,<br /> +That shall one kind Return for ever gain,<br /> +But when t' oblige us they've done all they can,<br /> +We'll laugh, deride, and scorn the Foppish Sex,<br /> +And wrank Invention for new ways to vex,<br /> +Till they to shun us, prompted by Despair,<br /> +Or Drown themselves, or hung in cleanly Air.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Thirteenth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> But if amongst us there should chance to be,<br /> +One silly fond regardless foolish She,<br /> +That spight of all our Edicts will maintain<br /> +A League with that detested Creature <i>Man:</i><br /> +Good Counsels first shall strive to bring her off,<br /> +But if the Fool will that good Counsel scoff,<br /> +If she the freedom of her Sex will leave,<br /> +And love a Wretch she knows that will deceive,<br /> +From Pity well exempt the <i>Female</i> Sot,<br /> +That wretched Thing a <i>Husband</i> be her Lot.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Fourteenth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> Jealous by Day, and Impotent by Night,<br /> +Have neither Shape nor Mein to please the Sight<br /> +Diseas'd in Body, and deform'd in Soul,<br /> +Conceited, Proud, yet all the while a Fool:<br /> +May she with him spin out a tedious Life,<br /> +Blest with that much admir'd Title, <i>Wife</i>.<br /> +And may no Female better Fate partake,<br /> +That prophane the wholsome Laws we make.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Fifteenth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> And may the silly Maid that is so blind,<br /> +To trust Man's Oaths that are as false as Wind,<br /> +And only to her Ruin are design'd,<br /> +That thinks her Vertue is a Plague of Life,<br /> +And will to cure it, yield as Whore or Wife.<br /> +Find all the Ills that have before been said,<br /> +And lose for endless Plauges her Maiden-head,<br /> +Who will not bear what they infer a Pain,<br /> +And laugh at all the base Delights of Men.<br /><br /></td> +<td style="vertical-align: top;">}<br /> +}<br /> +}<br /></td></tr> +</table> + +<h2><i>FINIS.</i><br /><br /></h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h3>THE</h3> +<h2>Fifteen PLEASURES</h2> +<h3>OF A</h3> +<h1>VIRGIN.</h1> +<h3>WRITTEN</h3> +<h3>By the suppos'd AUTHOR of</h3> +<h3>THE</h3> +<h1 style="font-family: 'Old English Text MT','EngrvrsOldEng BT',fantasy">Fifteen Plagues</h1> +<h3>OF A</h3> +<h1>Maidenhead.</h1> +<hr /> +<table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" summary="epigram"> +<tr><td><i>Virtus, repulsæ nescia fortidæ,<br /> +Intimitatis fulget honoribus.</i> Hor. L. 3. Od. 1.</td></tr> +</table> +<hr /> +<p class="center">LONDON: Printed in the Year, 1709.<br /><br /></p> + +<h3>AN</h3> +<h1>APOLOGY</h1> +<h3>FOR</h3> +<h2>The Fifteen Plagues of a Maidenhead,<br /> +by the Imputed Author thereof.</h2> + +<table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" +summary="Apology"> +<tr><td> Suppose 'twas I, you thought, had drew my Pen<br /> +On Virtue, see I fight for her agen;<br /> +Wherefore, I hope my Foes will all excuse<br /> +Th' Extravagance of a Repenting Muse;<br /> +Pardon whate'er she has too boldly said,<br /> +She only acted then in Masquerade;<br /> +But now the Vizard's off, She's chang'd her Scene,<br /> +And turns a Modest, Civil Girl agen;<br /> +Let some admire the Fops whose Talent lie<br /> +Inventing dull, insipid Blasphemy;<br /> +I swear I cannot with those Terms dispence,<br /> +Nor won't be Damn'd for the Repute of Sense;<br /> +I cou'd be Bawdy much, and nick the Times,<br /> +In what they dearly Love; damn'd Placket Rhimes;<br /> +But that such Naus'ous Lines can reach no higher<br /> +Than what the Cod-Piece or Buffoons inspire.<br /> + To noble Satyr, I'll direct my Aim,<br /> +And bite Mankind, and Poetry Reclaim;<br /> +I'll ever use my Wit another Way,<br /> +And next the Ugliness of Vice display.<br /> +<br /> +<div style="text-align: right"><i>Yours, &c.</i></div><br /> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<h3>THE</h3> +<h2>FIFTEEN P----s</h2> +<h3>OF A</h3> +<h1>VIRGIN.</h1> + +<table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" +summary="The Fifteen Palgues of a Virgin"> +<tr><td><h3><i>The first P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>In these unhappy and more wretched Days,<br /> +Eclipsed with Debauchery and Plays!<br /> +Virgins can scarce stir out, but some dull Fop,<br /> +Impertinently kind, her way will stop,<br /> +And almost force Her to some House of Sin,<br /> +Her Innocence and Virtue to draw in;<br /> +And if he can her Modesty invade,<br /> +Glad with her Spoils and Trophies of a Maid,<br /> +The Villain is the first that will complain<br /> +Her foul Dishonour, and polluted Shame.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Second P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>A Maid dispos'd to take the gentle Air,<br /> +And to <i>Grays-Inn</i>, or <i>Temple-Walks</i> repair;<br /> +No sooner enters she the Garden Gate,<br /> +Sits down, and thinks of going e're 'tis late,<br /> +But some insipid Squire having spy'd her,<br /> +Takes Heart of Steel, and boldly squats beside her.<br /> +He thus accosts her,—Madam, <i>Ah! by Gad<br /> +You're wond'rous Fair; but Lady, why so sad?</i><br /> +Her Innocence he thinks will soon submit,<br /> +To all the swagg'ring Tyrants of his Wit;<br /> +But being strictly taught in Vertue's School,<br /> +She does not only slight the prating Fool,<br /> +Contemn'd his Actions, and his feigned Tone,<br /> +But leaves the Lawyer strait to Curse alone.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Third P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>The Maid that's Blessed with a beauteos Face,<br /> +A gentile Air, and as genteel a Grace;<br /> +On her some am'rous Beau soon casts his Eyes,<br /> +And to obtain the much admired Prize;<br /> +He fashionably dresses, struts, looks big,<br /> +Like <i>John</i> of <i>Gaunt</i>, and in a pond'rous Wig;<br /> +A subtle, sly, and cunning Ambuscade,<br /> +For her Virginity is quickly laid;<br /> +Of Love he tells a Thousand Fictious Tales,<br /> +Till over her Discretion Lust prevails,<br /> +But modest Maids, whose young and tender Hearts<br /> +Unwounded yet, have the scap'd fatal Darts;<br /> +Let the sad Fates of wanton Strumpets move,<br /> +And learn by them to shun unlawful Love:<br /> +Thus Virgins, if you'll Modesty embrace,<br /> +By making all Allurements give you place:<br /> +Virtue a Sanctuary e'er shall be<br /> +Against the Quivers of Iniquity.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fourth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>A Maid of honest, but mean Parents Born,<br /> +These Times is only made the rich Man's scorn,<br /> +Howe'er her Beauty tempting some young Spark<br /> +He takes her to the Playhouse and the Park,<br /> +Where he with many Imprecations vows,<br /> +His Fortune and his Life to her he owes;<br /> +But finding his Temptations are in vain,<br /> +Her Company in Wrath he do's refrain;<br /> +Which at the first may touch her tender Heart,<br /> +And make her feel the force of <i>Cupid</i>'s Dart;<br /> +But Time and Absence Having made a Cure<br /> +Of that same Plague she could not first endure.<br /> +She says, as now I'm well, recite not then<br /> +The Falshood and Deceit of Perjur'd Men,<br /> +Virtue retain'd, that Man I'll ever slight,<br /> +Whom I cannot by Marriage claim my Right.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fifth P----, in a Dialogue betwixt</i> Cloris<br /> +<i>and</i> Parthenisea.</h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td><i><b>Clo.</b></i> Why dost thou all Address deny?<br /> +Hard-hearted <i>Parthenisea</i>, why?<br /> +See how the trembling Lovers come,<br /> +That from thy Lips expect their Doom.<br /> +<br /> +<i><b>Par.</b></i> <i>Cloris!</i> I hate them all, they know,<br /> +Nay I have often told them so;<br /> +Their silly Politicks abhorr'd:<br /> +I scorn to make my Slave my Lord.<br /> +<br /> +<i><b>Clo.</b></i> But <i>Strephon</i>'s Eyes proclaim His Love<br /> +Too brave, Tyrannical to prove.<br /> +<br /> +<i><b>Par.</b></i> Ah <i>Cloris!</i> when we lost our Power?<br /> +We must obey the Conqueror.<br /> +<br /> +<i><b>Clo.</b></i> Yet when a gentle Prince bears sway,<br /> +It is no Bondage to Obey.<br /> +<br /> +<i><b>Par.</b></i> But if like <i>Nero</i>, for a while,<br /> +With Arts of Kindness he beguile,<br /> +How shall the Tyrant be withstood,<br /> +When he has writ his Laws in Blood?<br /> +<br /> +<i><b>Clo.</b></i> Love (<i>Parthenisea</i>) all commands,<br /> +it fetters Kings in charming Bands;<br /> +<i>Mars</i> yields his Arms to <i>Cupid</i>'s Darts,<br /> +And Beauty softens Savage Hearts.<br /> +<br /> +<i><b>Par.</b></i> Well may you choose to be a Wife,<br /> +I'll still retain a Single Life.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Sixth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Rid of a Coxcomb, next a Siege is laid<br /> +Against the weak Repulses of a Maid,<br /> +By one that keeps a Coach and Lackies too,<br /> +And that he might his wicked Plots pursue,<br /> +In gawdy Dress he would her Heart surprize,<br /> +with Gold to dazle her too watchful Eyes;<br /> +But Vertue cherishing her Virtuous Breast,<br /> +With so much Innocence which made her blest,<br /> +Her Innocence as hitherto ne'er knew<br /> +What Mischief <i>Venus</i> or her Son cou'd do,<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Seventh P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Where blindfold Fortune has been pleas'd to place<br /> +A Virgen with a Master void of Grace,<br /> +With Foot, with Hand, or Eyes, he'll Tokens speak,<br /> +The Signs deny, these Assignations make;<br /> +Thinks she shall be as pliant to his Use,<br /> +As Strumpets on a <i>Cornival</i> let loose;<br /> +But if she's Chast, his Miss she will not be,<br /> +Unless she is as Fiend, and Base as he.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Eighth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td><i>A</i> Negro <i>Courting onto a maid,<br /> +That was most Fair; to him she said,<br /> +Thy Ink, my Papper, make me guess,<br /> +Our Nuptial Bed will make a Press,<br /> +And to our Sports, if any came<br /> +They'll read a Wanton Epigram,</i><br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Ninth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td><i>How many Sweethearts do these follow me<br /> +Whose fell Design I know's to Ruine me;<br /> +but let me banish this forbidden Fire,<br /> +Or quench it with my Blood, or with't expire;<br /> +Unstain'd in Honour; and unhurt in Fame,<br /> +I'll never blast Virginity Shame,</i><br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Tenth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td><i>A Sailor vowing he would all his Life,<br /> +Be true to me, he took another Wife;<br /> +whose Folshood (not as e're he did Invade<br /> +My Honour) made me sick, and, dying, said,<br /> +Ah now at my last Hour I gasping lie:<br /> +Let only my kind Murtherer be by,<br /> +Let him, while I breath out my Soul in Sighs,<br /> +Or gaz't away, look on with pitying Eyes;<br /> +Let him (for sure he can't deny me this)<br /> +Seal my cold Lips with one dear parting Kiss.</i><br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Eleventh P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td><i>To have a Sweetheart once it was my Fate,<br /> +Whom much I lov'd, and now as much do hate,<br /> +Fo going to be coupled for my Life,<br /> +He was took from me by a former Wife;<br /> +Henceforwards I shall ever cautious be<br /> +Of Marrying one, a Stranger unto me.</i><br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Twelfth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td><i>A Sweetheart whom I lov'd, and he lov'd me,<br /> +Intoxicated with Cursed Jealousie,<br /> +Without a Cause, my Innocence did slight,<br /> +Which urged soon my Passion thus to write,<br /> +Kind Health, which you, and only you can grant,<br /> +Which, if deny'd, I must for ever want;<br /> +To you your Lover sends; but blushing Shame,<br /> +In silence bids my Paper hide my Name.<br /> +Witness what Pains (for you alone can know)<br /> +Poor helpless I do bear and undergo;<br /> +A thousand Racks and Martyrdoms, and more<br /> +Than a weak Virgin can be thought, I bore:<br /> +You rule alone my Arbitrary Fate,<br /> +And Life and on your disposal wait.<br /> +How little more remains for me to crave!<br /> +How little more for you to give! O save<br /> +A wretched Maid undone by Love and you,<br /> +Who does in Tears and dying Accents sue;<br /> +Who bleeds that Passion she had ne'er reveal'd,<br /> +If not by Love, Almighty Love compell'd:</i><br /> +No ever let her mournful Tomb complain,<br /> +Here <i>Phillis</i>, kill'd by your cold Disdain;<br /> +And to her Honour let it e'er be said,<br /> +She dy'd a faithful Lover, yet a Maid.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Thirteenth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Blessed with Beauty, Money, Youth and Wit,<br /> +I'm daily plagu'd with some Penurious Cit,<br /> +But e'er I will to such be forc'd to yield,<br /> +To a Man of Sense I Will resign the Field,<br /> +For Men of Breeding more of Love can show,<br /> +Than dull Mechanicks e'er can learn or know.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fourteenth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>A Maid can scarce into a Service get,<br /> +But Prentice Boys (void both of Sense and Wit)<br /> +Will lead the Servant such a tedious Life,<br /> +To Change the Name of Maid to that of Wife,<br /> +That she, to shun their solid Impudence,<br /> +Must leave her Service in her own Defence.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>Fifteenth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>What spiteful Star, when I was Born did Rule,<br /> +That I'm thus teazed with a whining Fool,<br /> +Which is the very worst of Fools; for he,<br /> +Got in a Stran of dull Simplicity,<br /> +Crys, <i>Agdes!</i> See my looks, my wishing Eyes,<br /> +My melting Tears and hear my begging Sighs;<br /> +About your Neck I could have flung my Arms,<br /> +And been all over Love, all over Charms;<br /> +Grasp and hang on your K----, and there have dy'd,<br /> +There breath my gasping Soul out tho' deny'd.<br /> +My earnest Suits shall never give you rest,<br /> +While Life and Love more durable shall last;<br /> +Alive I'll Pray, 'till Breath in Pray'rs be lost,<br /> +And after come a kind beseeching Ghost.<br /> +He thought these soft Expressions soon might move<br /> +My Heart, which was bequeath'd before to Love,<br /> +No, no, these whiedling Fops I really hate,<br /> +And since I am resolv'd to change my State,<br /> +A Man of Wit and Sense I do adore,<br /> +To him I grant my Favours and my Store,<br /> +As certain Wedlock with so good a Choice,<br /> +May make my Judgment, whilst I live rejoice.<br /><br /></td></tr> +</table> + +<h2><i>FINIS.</i></h2> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13972 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/13972-h/images/illus1.jpg b/13972-h/images/illus1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1021feb --- /dev/null +++ b/13972-h/images/illus1.jpg diff --git a/13972-h/images/illus2.jpg b/13972-h/images/illus2.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f5b3edd --- /dev/null +++ b/13972-h/images/illus2.jpg diff --git a/13972-h/images/illus3.jpg b/13972-h/images/illus3.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca899f4 --- /dev/null +++ b/13972-h/images/illus3.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony: Responses From Women + +Author: Various + +Release Date: November 8, 2004 [EBook #13972] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIFTEEN COMFORTS OF MATRIMONY *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Fred Robinson and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p>[Transcriber's Note: The following was proofread from what appear to +be scans of photocopies of a reproduction of the original text. On top +of the original's battered type-face and archaic spellings, this +preparer, and the proofreaders before him, have had to contend with +dirty or faded images and missing margins. We have made our best +guesses as to the missing letters, but in some cases we were stymied; +those few places are marked with [*?]. In addition, the most obvious +printer's mistakes (transposed, missing, obviously incorrect, and even +upside-down letters) have been corrected.]<br /><br /></p> + +<hr class="full"/> + +<h2>THE</h2> +<h2>Whores and Bawd's</h2> +<h1>ANSWER</h1> +<h2>TO THE</h2> +<h2>Fifteen Comforts</h2> +<h2>OF</h2> +<h1>WHORING</h1> +<hr /> +<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt="Hand in hand"/></div> +<hr /> +<p class="center">Printed in the Year, 1706.<br /><br /></p> + + +<h2>The PREFACE.</h2> + +<p><i>Indeed we the Ladies of Pleasures, and those that stile themselves +Procurers in Love Affairs, highly resent the late Paper put out +against our Profession and bespattering of us for using only our own; +but since it is the Way of the World for most Men to be inclinable to +love Lac'd Mutton, I think it is their Duty to resent the Affront with +us so much, as to Satyrize the Author of the</i> Fifteen Comforts of +Whoring, <i>who without is some young bashful Effeminate Fool or +another, that knows not how to say</i> Boh to a Goose; <i>or some old +suffocated old Wretch so far pass'd his Labour, that he scolds for +Madness that he cannot give a buxom young Lass her Benevolence; or +else he may an hundred to one be one of Captain</i> Risby's <i>Fraternity, +and so must needs be a Woman Hater by Course. But let him be what he +will, so long as our Impudence is Case-harden'd we value not his +Reflections, and therefore will not leave our Vocation tho' Claps and +Poxes shou'd be our Portion every Day for according to an eminent +Whore now Deceas'd,</i></p> + +<p class="poem">Clap, clap ye Whores, Clap as Clap can,<br /> +Some Clap to Women, we'll Clap the Men.<br /><br /></p> + + +<h2>THE</h2> +<h2>Whores and Bawds, Answer, &c.</h2> + +<table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" +summary="The Fifteen Comforts of Whoring"> +<tr><td><h3><i>The first Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>No sooner does a Maid arrive to Years,<br /> +And she the Pleasures of Conjunction hears,<br /> +But strait her Maidenhead a Tip-toe runs,<br /> +To get her like, in Daughters or in Sons;<br /> +Upon some jolly Lad she casts her Eye,<br /> +And with some am'rous Gestures by the by;<br /> +She gives him great Encouragement to take<br /> +His fill of Love, and swears that for his sake<br /> +She soon shall Die; which makes the Youth so hot<br /> +To get about the Maiden's Honey-pot,<br /> +That promising her Marriage and the like,<br /> +They both a Bargain very quickly Strike;<br /> +[*?] Rubbers often take till she does prove<br /> +With Child, then she bids adieu to Love;<br /> +And e're she's brought to Bed away does Creep,<br /> +For fear he should the Wenche's Urchin keep.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Second Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Now when a Maid has crackt her Maidenhead,<br /> +By being once or twice (Sir) brought to Bed,<br /> +Her Credit then's so broke that all her Wit,<br /> +And Policy cannot a Husband get;<br /> +But yet not being out of Heart she Cries,<br /> +From Marriage keeping I shall be more wise,<br /> +For if he's not a Fool he soon will find,<br /> +I had before I'd him to some been kind,<br /> +Then how he'd call me arrant Bitch and Whore,<br /> +And Swear some Stallion had been there before;<br /> +Then leave me, Wherefore I will single Live,<br /> +And my Invention to decoying give,<br /> +For as I was by fickle Man betray'd,<br /> +So Men by me too shall be Bubbles made,<br /> +Till the dull Sots clandestine Means do take,<br /> +In robbing Masters,for a Strumpets sake,<br /> +For which if they shou'd at the Gallows Swing,<br /> +Their End I'd in some merry Ditty Sing.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i> The Third Comfort of whoring answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>What tho' of Whoring it is the mishap,<br /> +Sometimes for him that Ruts to get a Clap,<br /> +Or an Invetrate Pox which may expose<br /> +His private Sports by Eating off his Nose;<br /> +How many by hard Drinking will Roar out<br /> +With Aches, Rheumatism's or the Gout,<br /> +When in that gorging, guzling, tipling Sin<br /> +There is not half the Pleasure, that there's in,<br /> +The soft Embraces of a Woman who<br /> +Altho' she is not to one Moral true,<br /> +Does strive to please your height of amorous Lust,<br /> +With such a ravishing and pleasing Gust,<br /> +That wou'd an Eunuch tempt to tast the same,<br /> +But that he Tools does want to play the Game.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The fourth Comfort of Whoring answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Tho' Buboes, Nodes and Ulcers are the Marks,<br /> +Of many a wanton Beau and am'rous Sparks<br /> +And many a lustful Lecher oft complains<br /> +Of restless Days and damn'd nocturnal Pains,<br /> +Nays go into a Flux o dozen Weeks,<br /> +Is't not the Man himself these Sorrow seeks?<br /> +Besides, how often see you go astride<br /> +A Miss, as if she was with Packthread ty'd;<br /> +Who's Poxt and Clapt as much as you can be,<br /> +And undergoes a deal of Misery,<br /> +To give your wanton Appetites content,<br /> +[*?] feeding you with Flesh, altho' in Lent:<br /> +Therefore as the old Woman very Tart<br /> +Once said, when against Thunder she did Fart,<br /> +'Twas only tit for tat, so if the Men<br /> +Do clap the Whores, and Whores Claps them agen,<br /> +Tis only tit for tat; tis very true,<br /> +What's good for Goose is good for Gander too.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The fifth Comfort of Whoring answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>What if a Man is in a marry'd State?<br /> +Confin'd to one does am'rous Heat abate,<br /> +Or shew me him (altho' he were in need.)<br /> +That always wou'd upon one Diet feed<br /> +When once a Woman's by a Man enjoy'd<br /> +For good and all, his Appetite is cloy'd.<br /> +Therefore he fixes on some wanton Miss<br /> +Whom rather than his Wife behalf he'd Kiss,<br /> +For as it's oft reported now a days,<br /> +A Thing that's fresh, fresh Courage, too will raise<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Sixth Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>What Man wou'd shun the Plagues of Pox and Pills,<br /> +Or all the ails that are in Doctors Bills,<br /> +Rather than not be circled in the Arms<br /> +Of one that tempts you with a thousand Charms,<br /> +And tho' she long has lost her Maidenhead,<br /> +Yet such Dexterity she'll shew in Bed,<br /> +That, Sir, your Mouth wou'd water o're and o're,<br /> +To feed again upon a skilful Whore.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The seventh Comfort of Whoring Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>'Tis true, the Fop that thinketh to secure'd<br /> +To himself, in private Lodgins some fine Whore<br /> +He is a Fool, for she'll not be confin'd,<br /> +To any Man altho' he's are so kind;<br /> +For being then high Pampered and Fed,<br /> +In absence of her Cull she takes to Bed<br /> +Another, that with Gold allures her too,<br /> +That she may not to her Gallant be true;<br /> +For thinks she, when her Chap is tir'd quite,<br /> +And turns her off in others to delight,<br /> +From all she can she'll privately receive,<br /> +Which may her great Necessities relieve,<br /> +When that she bids adieu her Master's Bed,<br /> +To get by publick jilting Tricks her Bread.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The eighth Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>If any Man's in Love with any Whore,<br /> +Why ought he not to lavish all his Store<br /> +Upon her? Since, to make the Fop admire,<br /> +Those prety Features which sets him a fire,<br /> +She's often at the Charge of Velvit Hoods,<br /> +Silk Stockins, Velvit Scarves and other Goods,<br /> +Lac'd Shoes, rich Mantoe's, Gloves and Diamond Rings<br /> +Fine Linnen, Gowns, and other costly things.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The ninth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>If any has a Jilt some time sustain'd,<br /> +Who has imperious o're his Pocket reign'd,<br /> +And he's grown weary of so sweet a Life,<br /> +Or else being jealous takes to him a Wife;<br /> +The Whore can do no less than fling and tear,<br /> +And on th' inconstant Coxcomb Vengeance swaer,<br /> +For leaving her in this her state of Sin;<br /> +And let the World know what the Spark has been,<br /> +Unless a Pension he to her allows,<br /> +That she may not his Roguery disclose.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The tenth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>T'is true we Harlots work by various means,<br /> +And act our Parts behind too diff'rent Scenes;<br /> +Sometimes we do a Bastard lay to those,<br /> +That never did so much as touch our Cloaths;<br /> +Perhaps too ne'er were in our Company,<br /> +So Guineas get by this same Subtilty;<br /> +And many times a Pocket too we pick,<br /> +For at no mischief will a Strumpit stick;<br /> +For once a Woman's bad, there's no relief<br /> +By being only Whore, but also Thief.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Eleventh Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>We'll have you know, of Whores are very few,<br /> +That will to any Man be ever true;<br /> +To us all Men for Money are alike,<br /> +With Skips as soon as Beaus we bargains strike;<br /> +And gad no sooner is a Cully gone,<br /> +But quick another in his Room gets on.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Twelfth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Besides great Charges we are at for Cloaths,<br /> +To tempt the Fancies of our cringing Beaus,<br /> +We Pimps and Bullies keep to be our Bail,<br /> +When Sharping Bailiffs nabb us for a Jayl.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Thirteenth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Again as we to <i>Bridewel</i> oft are sent,<br /> +To undergo a flauging Punishment,<br /> +A bribe to him that Whips us then is gi'n,<br /> +To have Compassion to our tender Skin.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fourteenth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>With pretty winning ways we do assure,<br /> +Our selves to bring the Woodcocks to our Lure<br /> +As ogling wishfully, and having Tongue,<br /> +Which tho' 'tis false, yet with good Language hung<br /> +And if we have a Voice that's good, we sing<br /> +And <i>Syren</i> like our Fops to ruin bring;<br /> +Then how we Strumpets do rejoyce to see,<br /> +The wiser Sex undone by Lechery.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fifteenth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>But now good lack-a-day our Trade's so bad,<br /> +That truly Customers can scarce be had,<br /> +Through those sly Whore's that do in privat dwell,<br /> +So (but a story sad it is to tell)<br /> +Our common Whores can scarce their Livings get<br /> +By all the means of an intrieguing Wit.<br /> +For <i>Drury Lane</i>, in <i>Fleetstreet</i> or the <i>Strand</i>,<br /> +Hours we walk e're any by the Hand,<br /> +Will take us, wherefore as we daggle home,<br /> +Some prick-louse <i>Taylor</i> strutting up will come,<br /> +With whom for want we're forced to comply,<br /> +for one poor two pence wet, and two pence dry.<br /><br /></td></tr> +</table> + +<h2><i>FINIS.</i><br /><br /></h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>THE</h2> +<h1>Fifteen PLAGUES</h1> +<h2>OF A</h2> +<h1>Maiden-Head</h1> +<hr /> +<p class="center">Written by Madam B----le.</p> +<hr /> +<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt="Printer's seal"/></div> +<hr /> +<p class="center">LONDON:<br /> +Printed by <i>F.P.</i> near <i>Fleet-street</i>, 1707.<br /><br /></p> + +<h2>THE</h2> +<h2>Fifteen Plagues of a</h2> +<h2>Maiden-Head, <i>&c.</i></h2> + +<table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" +summary="The Fifteen Plagues of a Maiden-Head"> +<tr><td><h3><i>The First Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> The Woman Marry'd is Divinely Blest,<br /> +But I a Virgin cannot take my Rest;<br /> +I'm discontented up, as bad a Bed,<br /> +Because I'm plagued with my Maiden-head;<br /> +A thing that do's my blooming Years no good,<br /> +But only serves to freeze my youthful Blood,<br /> +Which slowly Circulates, do what I can,<br /> +For want of Bleeding by some skilful Man;<br /> +Whose tender hand his <i>Launcet</i> so will guide,<br /> +That I the Name of <i>Maid</i> may lay aside.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Second Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> When I've beheld an am'rous Youth make Love,<br /> +And swearing Truth by all the Gods above,<br /> +How has it strait inflam'd my sprightly Blood<br /> +Creating Flames, I scarcely should withstood,<br /> +But bid him boldly march, not grant me leisure<br /> +Of Parley, for 'tis Speed augments the Pleasure.<br /> +Sirrah! tis my Misfortune not to meet<br /> +With any Man that would my Passion greet,<br /> +If he with balmy Kisses stop'd my Breath,<br /> +From which one cannot die a better Death,<br /> +Or stroke my Breasts, those Mountains of Delight,<br /> +Your very Touch would fire an Anchorite;<br /> +Next let your wanton Palm a little stray,<br /> +And dip thy Fingers in the milky way:<br /> +Then having raiz'd me, let me gently fall,<br /> +Love's Trumpets sound, so Mortal have at all.<br /> +But why wish I this Bliss? I wish in vain,<br /> +And of my plaguy Burthen do complain;<br /> +For sooner may I see whole Nations dead,<br /> +But I find one to get my Maiden-head.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Third Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> She that her Maiden-head does keep, runs through<br /> +More Plagues than all the Land of <i>Egypt</i> knew;<br /> +A teazing Whore, or a more tedious Wife,<br /> +Plagues not a Marry'd Man's unhappy Life,<br /> +As much as it do's me to be a Maid,<br /> +Of which same Name I am so much afraid,<br /> +Because I've often heard some People tell,<br /> +They that die Maids, must all lead Apes in Hell;<br /> +And so 'twere better I had never been,<br /> +Than thus to be perplex'd: <i>God save the Queen.</i><br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fourth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> When trembling Pris'ners all stand round the Bar,<br /> +A strange suspence about the fatal Verdict,<br /> +And when the Jury crys they Guilty are,<br /> +How they astonish'd are when they have heard it.<br /> +When in mighty Storm a Ship is toss'd,<br /> +And all do ask, What do's the Captain say?<br /> +How they (poor Souls) bemoan themselves as lost,<br /> +When his Advice at last is only, Pray!<br /> +So as it was one Day my pleasing Chance,<br /> +To meet a handsome young Man in a Grove,<br /> +Both time and place conspir'd to advance<br /> +The innocent Designs of charming Love.<br /> +I thought my Happiness was then compleat,<br /> +Because 'twas in his Pow'r to make it so;<br /> +I ask'd the Spark if he would do the Feat,<br /> +But the unperforming Blockhead answer'd, <i>No</i>.<br /> +Poor Prisoners may, I see, have Mercy shewn,<br /> +And Shipwreck'd Men may sometimes have the Luck,<br /> +To see their dismal Tempests overblown,<br /> +But I poor Virgin never shall be F----.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fifth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> All Day poor I do sit Disconsolate,<br /> +Cursing the grievous Rigor of my Fate,<br /> +To think how I have seven Years betray'd,<br /> +To that dull empty Title of a Maid.<br /> +If that I could my self but Woman write,<br /> +With what transcendent Pleasure and Delight,<br /> +Should I for ever, thrice for ever Bless,<br /> +The Man that led me to such Happiness.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Sixth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> Pox take the thing Folks call a Maiden-head,<br /> +For soon as e'er I'm sleeping in my Bed,<br /> +I dream I'm mingling with some Man my Thigh,<br /> +Till something more than ord'nary does rise;<br /> +But when I wake and find my Dream's in vain,<br /> +I turn to Sleep only to Dream again,<br /> +For Dreams as yet are only kind to me,<br /> +And at the present quench my Lechery.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Seventh Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> Of late I wonder what's with me the Matter,<br /> +For I look like Death, and am as weak as Water,<br /> +For several Days I loath the sight of Meat,<br /> +And every Night I chew the upper Sheet;<br /> +[*?]e such Obstructions, that I'm almost moap'd,<br /> +And breath as if my Vitals all were stop'd.<br /> +I told a Friend how strange with me it was,<br /> +She, an experienc'd Bawd, soon grop'd the Cause,<br /> +Saying, <i>for this Disease, take what you can,<br /> +You'll ne'er be well, till you have taken Man.</i><br /> +Therefore, before with Maiden-heads I'll be<br /> +Thus plagu'd, and live in daily Misery,<br /> +Some Spark shall rummage all my Wem about,<br /> +To find this wonderful Distemper out.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Eighth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> Now I am young, blind <i>Cupid</i> me bewitches,<br /> +I scratch my Belly, for it always itches,<br /> +And what it itches for, I've told before,<br /> +'Tis either to be Wife, or be a Whore;<br /> +Nay any thing indeed, would be poor I,<br /> +N'er Maiden-heads upon my Hands should lie,<br /> +Which till I lose, I'm sure my watry Eyes<br /> +Will pay to Love so great a Sacrifice,<br /> +That my Carcass soon will weep out all its Juice,<br /> +Till grown so dry, as fit for no Man's use.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Ninth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> By all the pleasant Postures of Delight,<br /> +By all the Twines and Circles of the Night,<br /> +By the first Minute of those Nuptial Joys,<br /> +When Men put fairly for a Brace of Boys,<br /> +Dying a Virgin once I more do dread,<br /> +Than ten times losing of a <i>Maiden head</i>;<br /> +For tho' it can't be seen nor understood,<br /> +Yet is it troublesome to Flesh and Blood.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Tenth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> You heedless Maids, whose young and tender Hearts<br /> +Unwounded yet, have scop'd the fatal Darts;<br /> +Let the sad Fate of a poor Virgin move,<br /> +And learn by me to pay Respect to Love.<br /> +If one can find a Man fit for Love's Game,<br /> +To lose one's Maiden-head it is no Shame:<br /> +'Tis no Offence, if from his tender Lip<br /> +I snatch a tonguing Kiss; if my fond Clip<br /> +With loose Embraces oft his Neck surround,<br /> +For Love in Debts of Nature's ever bound.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Eleventh Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> A <i>Maiden head</i>! Pish, in it's no Delight,<br /> +Nor have I Ease, but when returning Night,<br /> +With Sleep's soft gentle Spell my Senses charms,<br /> +Then Fancy some Gallant brings to my Arms:<br /> +In them I oft the lov'd Shadow seem<br /> +To grasp, and Joys, yet blush I too in Dream.<br /> +I wake, and long my Heart in Wonder lies,<br /> +To think on my late pleasing Extasies:<br /> +But when I'm waking, and don't yet possess,<br /> +In Sleep again I wish to enjoy the Bliss:<br /> +For Sleep do's no malicious Spies admit,<br /> +Yet yields a lively Semblance of Delight.<br /> +Gods! what a Scene of Joy was that! how fast<br /> +I clasp'd the Vision to my panting Breast?<br /> +With what fierce Bounds I sprung to meet the Bliss,<br /> +While my wrapt Soul flew out in ev'ry Kiss!<br /> +Till breathless, faint, and softly sunk away,<br /> +I all dissolv'd in reaking Pleasures lay.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Twelfth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> Happen what will, I'll make some Lovers know<br /> +What Pains, what raging Pains I undergo,<br /> +Till I am really Heart-sick, almost Dead,<br /> +By keeping that damn'd thing a Maiden-head.<br /> +Which makes me with Green Sickness almost lost,<br /> +So pale, so wan, and looking like a Ghost,<br /> +Eating Chalk, Cindars, or Tobacco-Pipes,<br /> +Which with a Looseness scowers all my Tripes;<br /> +But e'er I'll longer this great Pain endure,<br /> +The Stews I'll search, but that I'll find a Cure.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Thirteenth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> Let doating Age debate of <i>Law</i> and <i>Right</i>,<br /> +And gravely state the Bounds of Just and Fit;<br /> +Whose Wisdom's but their Envy, to destroy<br /> +And bar those Pleasures which they can't enjoy.<br /> +My blooming Years, more sprightly and more gay,<br /> +By Nature were design'd for Love and Play:<br /> +Youth knows no Check, but leaps weak Virtue's Fence,<br /> +And briskly hunts the noble Chace of Sense!<br /> +Without dull thinking I'll Enjoyment trace,<br /> +And call that lawful whatsoe'er do's please.<br /> +Nor will my Crime want Instances alone,<br /> +'Tis what the Glorious Gods above have done;<br /> +For <i>Saturn</i>, and his greater Off-spring <i>Jove</i>,<br /> +Both stock'd their Heaven with Incestuous Love.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fourteenth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> If any Man do's with my Bubbies play,<br /> +Squeeze my small Hand, as soft as Wax or Clay,<br /> +Or lays his Hands upon my tender Knees,<br /> +What strange tumultuous Joys upon me seize!<br /> +My Breasts do heave, and languish do my Eyes,<br /> +Panting's my Heart, and trembling are my Thighs;<br /> +I sigh, I wish, I pray, and seem to die,<br /> +In one continu'd Fit of Ecstacy;<br /> +Thus by my Looks may Man know what I mean,<br /> +And how he easily may get between<br /> +Those Quarters, where he may surprize a Fort,<br /> +In which an Emperor may find such Sport,<br /> +That with a mighty Gust of Love's Alarms,<br /> +He'd lie dissolving in my circling Arms;<br /> +But 'tis my Fate to have to do with Fools,<br /> +Who're very loth and shy to use their Tools,<br /> +To ease a poor, and fond distressed Maid,<br /> +Of that same Load, of which I'm not afrad<br /> +To lose with any Man, tho' I should die,<br /> +For any Tooth (good Barber) is my Cry.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fifteenth Plague.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> Alas! I care not, Sir, what Force you'd use,<br /> +So I my Maiden-head could quickly lose:<br /> +Oft do I wish one skill'd in <i>Cupid</i>'s Arts,<br /> +Would quickly dive into my secret Parts;<br /> +For as I am, at Home all sorts of Weather,<br /> +I kit,----as Heaven and Earth would come together,<br /> +Twirling a Wheel, I sit at home, hum drum,<br /> +And spit away my Nature on my Thumb;<br /> +Whilst those that Marry'd are, invited be<br /> +To Labours, Christnings, where the Jollitry<br /> +Of Women lies in telling, as some say,<br /> +When 'twas they did at Hoity-Toity play;<br /> +Whose Husband's Yard is longest, whilst another<br /> +Can't in the least her great Misfortune smother,<br /> +So tells, her Husband's Bauble is so short,<br /> +That when he Hunts, he never shews her Sport.<br /> +Now I, because I have my Maiden-head,<br /> +Mayn't know the Pastimes of the Nuptial Bed;<br /> +But mayn't I quickly do as Marry'd People may,<br /> +I'll either kill my self, or shortly run away.<br /><br /></td></tr> +</table> + +<h2><i>FINIS.</i><br /><br /></h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h1><i>The</i> Maids <i>Vindication:</i></h1> +<h2>OR, THE</h2> +<h2>Fifteen Comforts of living a Single Life.</h2> +<h2>Being an <i>ANSWER</i> to the <i>Fifteen<br /> +Plagues of a Maiden-head</i>.</h2> +<hr /> +<p class="center"><i>Written by a Gentlewoman.</i></p> +<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt="Woman and man"/></div> +<p class="center"><i>London</i>, Printed for <i>J. Rogers</i> in <i>Fleet-Street</i>, 1707.<br /><br /></p> + +<h3><i>The</i> Maids <i>Vindication:</i></h3> +<h3>OR,</h3> +<h2>The Fifteen Comforts of<br /> +being a Maid, <i>&c.</i></h2> + +<table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" +summary="The Fifteen Plagues of being a Maid"> +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The First Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> Ye <i>British</i> Maids with <i>British</i> Beauty blest,<br /> +Wife as you're Fair, of ev'ry Grace possest,<br /> +Do not the least degenerate from your Worth,<br /> +Nor be less Chaste because you're thus set forth;<br /> +Have Patience then, and I'll revenge your Cause,<br /> +And all the deep Designs of wicked Men expose,<br /> +Shew the dear Comforts of a Single Life,<br /> +With all the Plagues and Ills of Wh----re or Wife.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Second Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> Tell me you Grave Disputers of the Schools,<br /> +You learned Coxcombs, and you well read Fools;<br /> +You that have told us, Man must be our Head,<br /> +And made <i>Dame Nature</i> Pimp to what you've said,<br /> +Tell me where are the Joys of womans Life,<br /> +When she consents to be a wedded Wife:<br /> +Much less if she too kind and easie proves,<br /> +And grants her Heart to one that swears he loves,<br /> +I will not call her W----re, because I know<br /> +'Twas his false Oaths and Lyes that made her so:<br /> +But you that would to your own selves be just,<br /> +Nor Friend nor Husband but with caution trust.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Third Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> And first, the greatest lasting'st Plague of Life,<br /> +Husband; the Constant Jaylor of a wife,<br /> +A proud insulting dominering thing,<br /> +Abroad a subject, but at Home a King,<br /> +There he in State does Arbitrary Reign,<br /> +And lordlike pow'r do's o'er his wife maintain.<br /> +For when she puts the Marriage Garments on,<br /> +The pleasures Ended e'er 'tis well begun:<br /> +But Plagues increase and hardly e're have done,<br /> +The joy he Courted he dispises now,<br /> +And do's a perfect Married Nausiance grow,<br /><br /></td> +<td style="vertical-align: top;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +}<br /> +}<br /> +}<br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Fourth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> It's Jealousie that maggot of the pate,<br /> +Possess the Sot, how violent's his hate,<br /> +What curst suspitions haunt his tortur'd Mind,<br /> +And make him look for what he would not find,<br /> +Nothing but Females must i'th House appear,<br /> +And not a Dog or Cat, that's Male be there,<br /> +Nay lest the unhappy wife shou'd have her longings,<br /> +He cuts out all the Men i'th Tapstry Hangings,<br /> +And if a harmless Letter's to her sent,<br /> +He'll make it speak worse sense than e'er it meant.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Fifth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> In a Curst Chamber, Cloyster'd up for Life,<br /> +Loves Female Innocence miscall'd a wife,<br /> +Deny'd those Pleasures are to Virtue granted,<br /> +Yearly the Devil of a Husband haunted,<br /> +for a Release she cannot Hope nor Pray,<br /> +Till milder Death takes him, or her away,<br /> +If her she's happy, and if him she's bless'd,<br /> +Till to her arms she takes a second Guest.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Sixth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> If Beauty, Wit, or Com[*?]aisance would do,<br /> +There's women that can all these wonders show,<br /> +Beauty that might new fire to Hermit lend,<br /> +And wit which serves that Beauty to defend,<br /> +who courted, cou'd do wonders with those Charms,<br /> +Till Parson conjur'd her to Husbands Arms,<br /> +And tho' the same perfections still remain<br /> +Yet nothing now can the dull Creature gain,<br /> +No looks can win him, nor no Smiles invite,<br /> +He now does her, and her Endearments slight,<br /> +And leaves those Graces which he shou'd adore,<br /> +To dote upon some Ugly suburb whore,<br /> +whilst poor neglected Spouse remains at home,<br /> +with discontent and Sorrow overcome,<br /> +No prayers, nor tears, nor all the Virtuous arts.<br /> +which women use to tame Rebellous Hearts.<br /> +Can the Incorrigible H[*?] move,<br /> +And make him own his once so promis'd love,<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Seventh Comfort</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> Oh she a happy, too too happy Bride,<br /> +That has a Husband snoring by her side,<br /> +Belching out Fumes of undigested wine,<br /> +And lies all Night like a good natur'd Swine,<br /> +whose Snoring serves as Musick to her Ears,<br /> +And keeps true Confort with her silent Tears,<br /> +That can himself no more than <i>Chaos</i> move,<br /> +And still neglects the great affair of love,<br /> +She may indeed assume the name of wife,<br /> +But others know she's but a Nurse for life.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Eighth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> A drunken Husband tho may have good nature,<br /> +But here's a fullen Matrimonial Creature,<br /> +will ask, and will not, will ask, and will deny<br /> +Is Peevish, Cross, and cannot tell for why,<br /> +Not one kind look he will to Spouse afford,<br /> +Scarce speake at all, at least not one good word,<br /> +All the obliging arts that she can use,<br /> +To reconcile this angry pevish Spouse,<br /> +Avail no more, than if she took delight,<br /> +In washing Bricks, or Swarthy <i>Negroes</i> white,<br /> +Lyons, and Tyger Men have learnt to tame;<br /> +Retaining nothing frightful but the Name,<br /> +But Man, unruly man, that Beast of reason,<br /> +'Gainst women still continues in his Treason.<br /> +No Charms his damn'd ill nature can release,<br /> +<i>Satan</i>, must only <i>Satan</i> disposes.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Ninth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> Nor Marriage is alone the dang'rous shelf,<br /> +On which a woman may destroy her self,<br /> +Believe no whineing Fool that Swears he loves,<br /> +And for your Pity to his Passion moves:<br /> +with fair decoying words he glids the Cheat,<br /> +Tells her the Sin, nor Danger are so great,<br /> +The joy is past the reach of Humane view,<br /> +And adds it will for ever bind him to be True:<br /> +But oh! if Maids upon this Quicksand run,<br /> +They're lost past hope, and are for e'er undone,<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Tenth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> Another swears he'll keep you all your Life,<br /> +Without the ugly Names, <i>of Man and Wife</i>.<br /> +And to that End what Arts, what Tricks are laid,<br /> +T' insnare the Virtuous Young unthinking Maid,<br /> +What rev'rend Bawd's made use of to Entice,<br /> +The Fair one's liking to that Modish Vice.<br /> +How she at last is guided to his Arms,<br /> +Where for a while he Doats upon her Charms.<br /> +But long she can't the airy Title hold,<br /> +Her look'd for Joys are scarce a Twelve Month Old,<br /> +Before <i>Kind Keeper</i> takes another Miss,<br /> +By sad Experience weary grown of this.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Eleventh Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> Are these the Sov'reigns then that we must own,<br /> +Must we before their Golden Calves bow down,<br /> +Forgive us Heav'n, if we renounce the Elves,<br /> +And make a Common-wealth among our Selves,<br /> +Whereby the Laws that we shall there Ordain.<br /> +We'll make it Capital to mention Man,<br /> +Man! we'll for ever banish from our sight,<br /> +Not talk by Day, nor think of them by Night,<br /> +We'll shun their Courtship, as we do the Plague,<br /> +And loath 'em more than they a Toothless Hagg.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Twelfth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> 'Tis not their Sighs, Crying, nor Prayers,<br /> +Their subtile Whinings, nor Treacherous Tears,<br /> +That shall one kind Return for ever gain,<br /> +But when t' oblige us they've done all they can,<br /> +We'll laugh, deride, and scorn the Foppish Sex,<br /> +And wrank Invention for new ways to vex,<br /> +Till they to shun us, prompted by Despair,<br /> +Or Drown themselves, or hung in cleanly Air.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Thirteenth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> But if amongst us there should chance to be,<br /> +One silly fond regardless foolish She,<br /> +That spight of all our Edicts will maintain<br /> +A League with that detested Creature <i>Man:</i><br /> +Good Counsels first shall strive to bring her off,<br /> +But if the Fool will that good Counsel scoff,<br /> +If she the freedom of her Sex will leave,<br /> +And love a Wretch she knows that will deceive,<br /> +From Pity well exempt the <i>Female</i> Sot,<br /> +That wretched Thing a <i>Husband</i> be her Lot.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Fourteenth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"> Jealous by Day, and Impotent by Night,<br /> +Have neither Shape nor Mein to please the Sight<br /> +Diseas'd in Body, and deform'd in Soul,<br /> +Conceited, Proud, yet all the while a Fool:<br /> +May she with him spin out a tedious Life,<br /> +Blest with that much admir'd Title, <i>Wife</i>.<br /> +And may no Female better Fate partake,<br /> +That prophane the wholsome Laws we make.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><h3><i>The Fifteenth Comfort.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td> And may the silly Maid that is so blind,<br /> +To trust Man's Oaths that are as false as Wind,<br /> +And only to her Ruin are design'd,<br /> +That thinks her Vertue is a Plague of Life,<br /> +And will to cure it, yield as Whore or Wife.<br /> +Find all the Ills that have before been said,<br /> +And lose for endless Plauges her Maiden-head,<br /> +Who will not bear what they infer a Pain,<br /> +And laugh at all the base Delights of Men.<br /><br /></td> +<td style="vertical-align: top;">}<br /> +}<br /> +}<br /></td></tr> +</table> + +<h2><i>FINIS.</i><br /><br /></h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h3>THE</h3> +<h2>Fifteen PLEASURES</h2> +<h3>OF A</h3> +<h1>VIRGIN.</h1> +<h3>WRITTEN</h3> +<h3>By the suppos'd AUTHOR of</h3> +<h3>THE</h3> +<h1 style="font-family: 'Old English Text MT','EngrvrsOldEng BT',fantasy">Fifteen Plagues</h1> +<h3>OF A</h3> +<h1>Maidenhead.</h1> +<hr /> +<table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" summary="epigram"> +<tr><td><i>Virtus, repulsæ nescia fortidæ,<br /> +Intimitatis fulget honoribus.</i> Hor. L. 3. Od. 1.</td></tr> +</table> +<hr /> +<p class="center">LONDON: Printed in the Year, 1709.<br /><br /></p> + +<h3>AN</h3> +<h1>APOLOGY</h1> +<h3>FOR</h3> +<h2>The Fifteen Plagues of a Maidenhead,<br /> +by the Imputed Author thereof.</h2> + +<table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" +summary="Apology"> +<tr><td> Suppose 'twas I, you thought, had drew my Pen<br /> +On Virtue, see I fight for her agen;<br /> +Wherefore, I hope my Foes will all excuse<br /> +Th' Extravagance of a Repenting Muse;<br /> +Pardon whate'er she has too boldly said,<br /> +She only acted then in Masquerade;<br /> +But now the Vizard's off, She's chang'd her Scene,<br /> +And turns a Modest, Civil Girl agen;<br /> +Let some admire the Fops whose Talent lie<br /> +Inventing dull, insipid Blasphemy;<br /> +I swear I cannot with those Terms dispence,<br /> +Nor won't be Damn'd for the Repute of Sense;<br /> +I cou'd be Bawdy much, and nick the Times,<br /> +In what they dearly Love; damn'd Placket Rhimes;<br /> +But that such Naus'ous Lines can reach no higher<br /> +Than what the Cod-Piece or Buffoons inspire.<br /> + To noble Satyr, I'll direct my Aim,<br /> +And bite Mankind, and Poetry Reclaim;<br /> +I'll ever use my Wit another Way,<br /> +And next the Ugliness of Vice display.<br /> +<br /> +<div style="text-align: right"><i>Yours, &c.</i></div><br /> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<h3>THE</h3> +<h2>FIFTEEN P----s</h2> +<h3>OF A</h3> +<h1>VIRGIN.</h1> + +<table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" +summary="The Fifteen Palgues of a Virgin"> +<tr><td><h3><i>The first P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>In these unhappy and more wretched Days,<br /> +Eclipsed with Debauchery and Plays!<br /> +Virgins can scarce stir out, but some dull Fop,<br /> +Impertinently kind, her way will stop,<br /> +And almost force Her to some House of Sin,<br /> +Her Innocence and Virtue to draw in;<br /> +And if he can her Modesty invade,<br /> +Glad with her Spoils and Trophies of a Maid,<br /> +The Villain is the first that will complain<br /> +Her foul Dishonour, and polluted Shame.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Second P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>A Maid dispos'd to take the gentle Air,<br /> +And to <i>Grays-Inn</i>, or <i>Temple-Walks</i> repair;<br /> +No sooner enters she the Garden Gate,<br /> +Sits down, and thinks of going e're 'tis late,<br /> +But some insipid Squire having spy'd her,<br /> +Takes Heart of Steel, and boldly squats beside her.<br /> +He thus accosts her,—Madam, <i>Ah! by Gad<br /> +You're wond'rous Fair; but Lady, why so sad?</i><br /> +Her Innocence he thinks will soon submit,<br /> +To all the swagg'ring Tyrants of his Wit;<br /> +But being strictly taught in Vertue's School,<br /> +She does not only slight the prating Fool,<br /> +Contemn'd his Actions, and his feigned Tone,<br /> +But leaves the Lawyer strait to Curse alone.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Third P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>The Maid that's Blessed with a beauteos Face,<br /> +A gentile Air, and as genteel a Grace;<br /> +On her some am'rous Beau soon casts his Eyes,<br /> +And to obtain the much admired Prize;<br /> +He fashionably dresses, struts, looks big,<br /> +Like <i>John</i> of <i>Gaunt</i>, and in a pond'rous Wig;<br /> +A subtle, sly, and cunning Ambuscade,<br /> +For her Virginity is quickly laid;<br /> +Of Love he tells a Thousand Fictious Tales,<br /> +Till over her Discretion Lust prevails,<br /> +But modest Maids, whose young and tender Hearts<br /> +Unwounded yet, have the scap'd fatal Darts;<br /> +Let the sad Fates of wanton Strumpets move,<br /> +And learn by them to shun unlawful Love:<br /> +Thus Virgins, if you'll Modesty embrace,<br /> +By making all Allurements give you place:<br /> +Virtue a Sanctuary e'er shall be<br /> +Against the Quivers of Iniquity.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fourth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>A Maid of honest, but mean Parents Born,<br /> +These Times is only made the rich Man's scorn,<br /> +Howe'er her Beauty tempting some young Spark<br /> +He takes her to the Playhouse and the Park,<br /> +Where he with many Imprecations vows,<br /> +His Fortune and his Life to her he owes;<br /> +But finding his Temptations are in vain,<br /> +Her Company in Wrath he do's refrain;<br /> +Which at the first may touch her tender Heart,<br /> +And make her feel the force of <i>Cupid</i>'s Dart;<br /> +But Time and Absence Having made a Cure<br /> +Of that same Plague she could not first endure.<br /> +She says, as now I'm well, recite not then<br /> +The Falshood and Deceit of Perjur'd Men,<br /> +Virtue retain'd, that Man I'll ever slight,<br /> +Whom I cannot by Marriage claim my Right.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fifth P----, in a Dialogue betwixt</i> Cloris<br /> +<i>and</i> Parthenisea.</h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td><i><b>Clo.</b></i> Why dost thou all Address deny?<br /> +Hard-hearted <i>Parthenisea</i>, why?<br /> +See how the trembling Lovers come,<br /> +That from thy Lips expect their Doom.<br /> +<br /> +<i><b>Par.</b></i> <i>Cloris!</i> I hate them all, they know,<br /> +Nay I have often told them so;<br /> +Their silly Politicks abhorr'd:<br /> +I scorn to make my Slave my Lord.<br /> +<br /> +<i><b>Clo.</b></i> But <i>Strephon</i>'s Eyes proclaim His Love<br /> +Too brave, Tyrannical to prove.<br /> +<br /> +<i><b>Par.</b></i> Ah <i>Cloris!</i> when we lost our Power?<br /> +We must obey the Conqueror.<br /> +<br /> +<i><b>Clo.</b></i> Yet when a gentle Prince bears sway,<br /> +It is no Bondage to Obey.<br /> +<br /> +<i><b>Par.</b></i> But if like <i>Nero</i>, for a while,<br /> +With Arts of Kindness he beguile,<br /> +How shall the Tyrant be withstood,<br /> +When he has writ his Laws in Blood?<br /> +<br /> +<i><b>Clo.</b></i> Love (<i>Parthenisea</i>) all commands,<br /> +it fetters Kings in charming Bands;<br /> +<i>Mars</i> yields his Arms to <i>Cupid</i>'s Darts,<br /> +And Beauty softens Savage Hearts.<br /> +<br /> +<i><b>Par.</b></i> Well may you choose to be a Wife,<br /> +I'll still retain a Single Life.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Sixth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Rid of a Coxcomb, next a Siege is laid<br /> +Against the weak Repulses of a Maid,<br /> +By one that keeps a Coach and Lackies too,<br /> +And that he might his wicked Plots pursue,<br /> +In gawdy Dress he would her Heart surprize,<br /> +with Gold to dazle her too watchful Eyes;<br /> +But Vertue cherishing her Virtuous Breast,<br /> +With so much Innocence which made her blest,<br /> +Her Innocence as hitherto ne'er knew<br /> +What Mischief <i>Venus</i> or her Son cou'd do,<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Seventh P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Where blindfold Fortune has been pleas'd to place<br /> +A Virgen with a Master void of Grace,<br /> +With Foot, with Hand, or Eyes, he'll Tokens speak,<br /> +The Signs deny, these Assignations make;<br /> +Thinks she shall be as pliant to his Use,<br /> +As Strumpets on a <i>Cornival</i> let loose;<br /> +But if she's Chast, his Miss she will not be,<br /> +Unless she is as Fiend, and Base as he.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Eighth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td><i>A</i> Negro <i>Courting onto a maid,<br /> +That was most Fair; to him she said,<br /> +Thy Ink, my Papper, make me guess,<br /> +Our Nuptial Bed will make a Press,<br /> +And to our Sports, if any came<br /> +They'll read a Wanton Epigram,</i><br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Ninth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td><i>How many Sweethearts do these follow me<br /> +Whose fell Design I know's to Ruine me;<br /> +but let me banish this forbidden Fire,<br /> +Or quench it with my Blood, or with't expire;<br /> +Unstain'd in Honour; and unhurt in Fame,<br /> +I'll never blast Virginity Shame,</i><br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Tenth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td><i>A Sailor vowing he would all his Life,<br /> +Be true to me, he took another Wife;<br /> +whose Folshood (not as e're he did Invade<br /> +My Honour) made me sick, and, dying, said,<br /> +Ah now at my last Hour I gasping lie:<br /> +Let only my kind Murtherer be by,<br /> +Let him, while I breath out my Soul in Sighs,<br /> +Or gaz't away, look on with pitying Eyes;<br /> +Let him (for sure he can't deny me this)<br /> +Seal my cold Lips with one dear parting Kiss.</i><br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Eleventh P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td><i>To have a Sweetheart once it was my Fate,<br /> +Whom much I lov'd, and now as much do hate,<br /> +Fo going to be coupled for my Life,<br /> +He was took from me by a former Wife;<br /> +Henceforwards I shall ever cautious be<br /> +Of Marrying one, a Stranger unto me.</i><br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Twelfth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td><i>A Sweetheart whom I lov'd, and he lov'd me,<br /> +Intoxicated with Cursed Jealousie,<br /> +Without a Cause, my Innocence did slight,<br /> +Which urged soon my Passion thus to write,<br /> +Kind Health, which you, and only you can grant,<br /> +Which, if deny'd, I must for ever want;<br /> +To you your Lover sends; but blushing Shame,<br /> +In silence bids my Paper hide my Name.<br /> +Witness what Pains (for you alone can know)<br /> +Poor helpless I do bear and undergo;<br /> +A thousand Racks and Martyrdoms, and more<br /> +Than a weak Virgin can be thought, I bore:<br /> +You rule alone my Arbitrary Fate,<br /> +And Life and on your disposal wait.<br /> +How little more remains for me to crave!<br /> +How little more for you to give! O save<br /> +A wretched Maid undone by Love and you,<br /> +Who does in Tears and dying Accents sue;<br /> +Who bleeds that Passion she had ne'er reveal'd,<br /> +If not by Love, Almighty Love compell'd:</i><br /> +No ever let her mournful Tomb complain,<br /> +Here <i>Phillis</i>, kill'd by your cold Disdain;<br /> +And to her Honour let it e'er be said,<br /> +She dy'd a faithful Lover, yet a Maid.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Thirteenth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Blessed with Beauty, Money, Youth and Wit,<br /> +I'm daily plagu'd with some Penurious Cit,<br /> +But e'er I will to such be forc'd to yield,<br /> +To a Man of Sense I Will resign the Field,<br /> +For Men of Breeding more of Love can show,<br /> +Than dull Mechanicks e'er can learn or know.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>The Fourteenth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>A Maid can scarce into a Service get,<br /> +But Prentice Boys (void both of Sense and Wit)<br /> +Will lead the Servant such a tedious Life,<br /> +To Change the Name of Maid to that of Wife,<br /> +That she, to shun their solid Impudence,<br /> +Must leave her Service in her own Defence.<br /><br /></td></tr> + + +<tr><td><h3><i>Fifteenth P----.</i></h3></td></tr> + +<tr><td>What spiteful Star, when I was Born did Rule,<br /> +That I'm thus teazed with a whining Fool,<br /> +Which is the very worst of Fools; for he,<br /> +Got in a Stran of dull Simplicity,<br /> +Crys, <i>Agdes!</i> See my looks, my wishing Eyes,<br /> +My melting Tears and hear my begging Sighs;<br /> +About your Neck I could have flung my Arms,<br /> +And been all over Love, all over Charms;<br /> +Grasp and hang on your K----, and there have dy'd,<br /> +There breath my gasping Soul out tho' deny'd.<br /> +My earnest Suits shall never give you rest,<br /> +While Life and Love more durable shall last;<br /> +Alive I'll Pray, 'till Breath in Pray'rs be lost,<br /> +And after come a kind beseeching Ghost.<br /> +He thought these soft Expressions soon might move<br /> +My Heart, which was bequeath'd before to Love,<br /> +No, no, these whiedling Fops I really hate,<br /> +And since I am resolv'd to change my State,<br /> +A Man of Wit and Sense I do adore,<br /> +To him I grant my Favours and my Store,<br /> +As certain Wedlock with so good a Choice,<br /> +May make my Judgment, whilst I live rejoice.<br /><br /></td></tr> +</table> + +<h2><i>FINIS.</i></h2> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony: +Responses From Women, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIFTEEN COMFORTS OF MATRIMONY *** + +***** This file should be named 13972-h.htm or 13972-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/9/7/13972/ + +Produced by David Starner, Fred Robinson and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony: Responses From Women + +Author: Various + +Release Date: November 8, 2004 [EBook #13972] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIFTEEN COMFORTS OF MATRIMONY *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Fred Robinson and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: The following was proofread from what appear to +be scans of photocopies of a reproduction of the original text. On top +of the original's battered type-face and archaic spellings, this +preparer, and the proofreaders before him, have had to contend with +dirty or faded images and missing margins. We have made our best +guesses as to the missing letters, but in some cases we were stymied; +those few places are marked with [*?]. In addition, the most obvious +printer's mistakes (transposed, missing, obviously incorrect, and even +upside-down letters) have been corrected.] + + + * * * * * + + THE + + Whores and Bawd's + + ANSWER + + TO THE + + Fifteen Comforts + + OF + + WHORING + + [Illustration] + + Printed in the Year, 1706. + + + + + The PREFACE. + + +_Indeed we the Ladies of Pleasures, and those that stile themselves +Procurers in Love Affairs, highly resent the late Paper put out +against our Profession and bespattering of us for using only our own; +but since it is the Way of the World for most Men to be inclinable to +love Lac'd Mutton, I think it is their Duty to resent the Affront with +us so much, as to Satyrize the Author of the_ Fifteen Comforts of +Whoring, _who without is some young bashful Effeminate Fool or +another, that knows not how to say_ Boh to a Goose; _or some old +suffocated old Wretch so far pass'd his Labour, that he scolds for +Madness that he cannot give a buxom young Lass her Benevolence; or +else he may an hundred to one be one of Captain_ Risby's _Fraternity, +and so must needs be a Woman Hater by Course. But let him be what he +will, so long as our Impudence is Case-harden'd we value not his +Reflections, and therefore will not leave our Vocation tho' Claps and +Poxes shou'd be our Portion every Day for according to an eminent +Whore now Deceas'd,_ + + + Clap, clap ye Whores, Clap as Clap can, + Some Clap to Women, we'll Clap the Men. + + + + + THE + Whores and Bawds, Answer, &c. + + + _The first Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd._ + + No sooner does a Maid arrive to Years, + And she the Pleasures of Conjunction hears, + But strait her Maidenhead a Tip-toe runs, + To get her like, in Daughters or in Sons; + Upon some jolly Lad she casts her Eye, + And with some am'rous Gestures by the by; + She gives him great Encouragement to take + His fill of Love, and swears that for his sake + She soon shall Die; which makes the Youth so hot + To get about the Maiden's Honey-pot, + That promising her Marriage and the like, + They both a Bargain very quickly Strike; + [*?] Rubbers often take till she does prove + With Child, then she bids adieu to Love; + And e're she's brought to Bed away does Creep, + For fear he should the Wenche's Urchin keep. + + + _The Second Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd._ + + Now when a Maid has crackt her Maidenhead, + By being once or twice (Sir) brought to Bed, + Her Credit then's so broke that all her Wit, + And Policy cannot a Husband get; + But yet not being out of Heart she Cries, + From Marriage keeping I shall be more wise, + For if he's not a Fool he soon will find, + I had before I'd him to some been kind, + Then how he'd call me arrant Bitch and Whore, + And Swear some Stallion had been there before; + Then leave me, Wherefore I will single Live, + And my Invention to decoying give, + For as I was by fickle Man betray'd, + So Men by me too shall be Bubbles made, + Till the dull Sots clandestine Means do take, + In robbing Masters,for a Strumpets sake, + For which if they shou'd at the Gallows Swing, + Their End I'd in some merry Ditty Sing. + + + _ The Third Comfort of whoring answer'd._ + + What tho' of Whoring it is the mishap, + Sometimes for him that Ruts to get a Clap, + Or an Invetrate Pox which may expose + His private Sports by Eating off his Nose; + How many by hard Drinking will Roar out + With Aches, Rheumatism's or the Gout, + When in that gorging, guzling, tipling Sin + There is not half the Pleasure, that there's in, + The soft Embraces of a Woman who + Altho' she is not to one Moral true, + Does strive to please your height of amorous Lust, + With such a ravishing and pleasing Gust, + That wou'd an Eunuch tempt to tast the same, + But that he Tools does want to play the Game. + + + _The fourth Comfort of Whoring answer'd._ + + Tho' Buboes, Nodes and Ulcers are the Marks, + Of many a wanton Beau and am'rous Sparks + And many a lustful Lecher oft complains + Of restless Days and damn'd nocturnal Pains, + Nays go into a Flux o dozen Weeks, + Is't not the Man himself these Sorrow seeks? + Besides, how often see you go astride + A Miss, as if she was with Packthread ty'd; + Who's Poxt and Clapt as much as you can be, + And undergoes a deal of Misery, + To give your wanton Appetites content, + [*?] feeding you with Flesh, altho' in Lent: + Therefore as the old Woman very Tart + Once said, when against Thunder she did Fart, + 'Twas only tit for tat, so if the Men + Do clap the Whores, and Whores Claps them agen, + Tis only tit for tat; tis very true, + What's good for Goose is good for Gander too. + + + _The fifth Comfort of Whoring answer'd._ + + What if a Man is in a marry'd State? + Confin'd to one does am'rous Heat abate, + Or shew me him (altho' he were in need.) + That always wou'd upon one Diet feed + When once a Woman's by a Man enjoy'd + For good and all, his Appetite is cloy'd. + Therefore he fixes on some wanton Miss + Whom rather than his Wife behalf he'd Kiss, + For as it's oft reported now a days, + A Thing that's fresh, fresh Courage, too will raise + + + _The Sixth Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd_ + + What Man wou'd shun the Plagues of Pox and Pills, + Or all the ails that are in Doctors Bills, + Rather than not be circled in the Arms + Of one that tempts you with a thousand Charms, + And tho' she long has lost her Maidenhead, + Yet such Dexterity she'll shew in Bed, + That, Sir, your Mouth wou'd water o're and o're, + To feed again upon a skilful Whore. + + + _The seventh Comfort of Whoring Answer'd._ + + 'Tis true, the Fop that thinketh to secure'd + To himself, in private Lodgins some fine Whore + He is a Fool, for she'll not be confin'd, + To any Man altho' he's are so kind; + For being then high Pampered and Fed, + In absence of her Cull she takes to Bed + Another, that with Gold allures her too, + That she may not to her Gallant be true; + For thinks she, when her Chap is tir'd quite, + And turns her off in others to delight, + From all she can she'll privately receive, + Which may her great Necessities relieve, + When that she bids adieu her Master's Bed, + To get by publick jilting Tricks her Bread. + + + _The eighth Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd._ + + If any Man's in Love with any Whore, + Why ought he not to lavish all his Store + Upon her? Since, to make the Fop admire, + Those prety Features which sets him a fire, + She's often at the Charge of Velvit Hoods, + Silk Stockins, Velvit Scarves and other Goods, + Lac'd Shoes, rich Mantoe's, Gloves and Diamond Rings + Fine Linnen, Gowns, and other costly things. + + + _The ninth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd_ + + If any has a Jilt some time sustain'd, + Who has imperious o're his Pocket reign'd, + And he's grown weary of so sweet a Life, + Or else being jealous takes to him a Wife; + The Whore can do no less than fling and tear, + And on th' inconstant Coxcomb Vengeance swaer, + For leaving her in this her state of Sin; + And let the World know what the Spark has been, + Unless a Pension he to her allows, + That she may not his Roguery disclose. + + + _The tenth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd._ + + T'is true we Harlots work by various means, + And act our Parts behind too diff'rent Scenes; + Sometimes we do a Bastard lay to those, + That never did so much as touch our Cloaths; + Perhaps too ne'er were in our Company, + So Guineas get by this same Subtilty; + And many times a Pocket too we pick, + For at no mischief will a Strumpit stick; + For once a Woman's bad, there's no relief + By being only Whore, but also Thief. + + + _The Eleventh Comfort of Whoring, Answer'd._ + + We'll have you know, of Whores are very few, + That will to any Man be ever true; + To us all Men for Money are alike, + With Skips as soon as Beaus we bargains strike; + And gad no sooner is a Cully gone, + But quick another in his Room gets on. + + + _The Twelfth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd._ + + Besides great Charges we are at for Cloaths, + To tempt the Fancies of our cringing Beaus, + We Pimps and Bullies keep to be our Bail, + When Sharping Bailiffs nabb us for a Jayl. + + + _The Thirteenth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd._ + + Again as we to _Bridewel_ oft are sent, + To undergo a flauging Punishment, + A bribe to him that Whips us then is gi'n, + To have Compassion to our tender Skin. + + + _The Fourteenth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd._ + + With pretty winning ways we do assure, + Our selves to bring the Woodcocks to our Lure + As ogling wishfully, and having Tongue, + Which tho' 'tis false, yet with good Language hung + And if we have a Voice that's good, we sing + And _Syren_ like our Fops to ruin bring; + Then how we Strumpets do rejoyce to see, + The wiser Sex undone by Lechery. + + + _The Fifteenth Comfort of Whoring Answer'd._ + + But now good lack-a-day our Trade's so bad, + That truly Customers can scarce be had, + Through those sly Whore's that do in privat dwell, + So (but a story sad it is to tell) + Our common Whores can scarce their Livings get + By all the means of an intrieguing Wit. + For _Drury Lane_, in _Fleetstreet_ or the _Strand_, + Hours we walk e're any by the Hand, + Will take us, wherefore as we daggle home, + Some prick-louse _Taylor_ strutting up will come, + With whom for want we're forced to comply, + for one poor two pence wet, and two pence dry. + + + _FINIS._ + + + * * * * * + + THE + + Fifteen PLAGUES + + OF A + + Maiden-Head + + Written by Madam B----le. + + [Illustration] + + LONDON: + + Printed by F.P. near _Fleet-street_, 1707. + + + + + THE + + Fifteen Plagues of a + + Maiden-Head, _&c._ + + + _The First Plague._ + + The Woman Marry'd is Divinely Blest, + But I a Virgin cannot take my Rest; + I'm discontented up, as bad a Bed, + Because I'm plagued with my Maiden-head; + A thing that do's my blooming Years no good, + But only serves to freeze my youthful Blood, + Which slowly Circulates, do what I can, + For want of Bleeding by some skilful Man; + Whose tender hand his _Launcet_ so will guide, + That I the Name of _Maid_ may lay aside. + + + _The Second Plague._ + + When I've beheld an am'rous Youth make Love, + And swearing Truth by all the Gods above, + How has it strait inflam'd my sprightly Blood + Creating Flames, I scarcely should withstood, + But bid him boldly march, not grant me leisure + Of Parley, for 'tis Speed augments the Pleasure. + Sirrah! tis my Misfortune not to meet + With any Man that would my Passion greet, + If he with balmy Kisses stop'd my Breath, + From which one cannot die a better Death, + Or stroke my Breasts, those Mountains of Delight, + Your very Touch would fire an Anchorite; + Next let your wanton Palm a little stray, + And dip thy Fingers in the milky way: + Then having raiz'd me, let me gently fall, + Love's Trumpets sound, so Mortal have at all. + But why wish I this Bliss? I wish in vain, + And of my plaguy Burthen do complain; + For sooner may I see whole Nations dead, + But I find one to get my Maiden-head. + + + _The Third Plague._ + + She that her Maiden-head does keep, runs through + More Plagues than all the Land of _Egypt_ knew; + A teazing Whore, or a more tedious Wife, + Plagues not a Marry'd Man's unhappy Life, + As much as it do's me to be a Maid, + Of which same Name I am so much afraid, + Because I've often heard some People tell, + They that die Maids, must all lead Apes in Hell; + And so 'twere better I had never been, + Than thus to be perplex'd: _God save the Queen._ + + + _The Fourth Plague._ + + When trembling Pris'ners all stand round the Bar, + A strange suspence about the fatal Verdict, + And when the Jury crys they Guilty are, + How they astonish'd are when they have heard it. + When in mighty Storm a Ship is toss'd, + And all do ask, What do's the Captain say? + How they (poor Souls) bemoan themselves as lost, + When his Advice at last is only, Pray! + So as it was one Day my pleasing Chance, + To meet a handsome young Man in a Grove, + Both time and place conspir'd to advance + The innocent Designs of charming Love. + I thought my Happiness was then compleat, + Because 'twas in his Pow'r to make it so; + I ask'd the Spark if he would do the Feat, + But the unperforming Blockhead answer'd, _No_. + Poor Prisoners may, I see, have Mercy shewn, + And Shipwreck'd Men may sometimes have the Luck, + To see their dismal Tempests overblown, + But I poor Virgin never shall be F----. + + + _The Fifth Plague._ + + All Day poor I do sit Disconsolate, + Cursing the grievous Rigor of my Fate, + To think how I have seven Years betray'd, + To that dull empty Title of a Maid. + If that I could my self but Woman write, + With what transcendent Pleasure and Delight, + Should I for ever, thrice for ever Bless, + The Man that led me to such Happiness. + + + _The Sixth Plague._ + + Pox take the thing Folks call a Maiden-head, + For soon as e'er I'm sleeping in my Bed, + I dream I'm mingling with some Man my Thigh, + Till something more than ord'nary does rise; + But when I wake and find my Dream's in vain, + I turn to Sleep only to Dream again, + For Dreams as yet are only kind to me, + And at the present quench my Lechery. + + + _The Seventh Plague._ + + Of late I wonder what's with me the Matter, + For I look like Death, and am as weak as Water, + For several Days I loath the sight of Meat, + And every Night I chew the upper Sheet; + [*?]e such Obstructions, that I'm almost moap'd, + And breath as if my Vitals all were stop'd. + I told a Friend how strange with me it was, + She, an experienc'd Bawd, soon grop'd the Cause, + Saying, _for this Disease, take what you can, + You'll ne'er be well, till you have taken Man._ + Therefore, before with Maiden-heads I'll be + Thus plagu'd, and live in daily Misery, + Some Spark shall rummage all my Wem about, + To find this wonderful Distemper out. + + + _The Eighth Plague._ + + Now I am young, blind _Cupid_ me bewitches, + I scratch my Belly, for it always itches, + And what it itches for, I've told before, + 'Tis either to be Wife, or be a Whore; + Nay any thing indeed, would be poor I, + N'er Maiden-heads upon my Hands should lie, + Which till I lose, I'm sure my watry Eyes + Will pay to Love so great a Sacrifice, + That my Carcass soon will weep out all its Juice, + Till grown so dry, as fit for no Man's use. + + + _The Ninth Plague._ + + By all the pleasant Postures of Delight, + By all the Twines and Circles of the Night, + By the first Minute of those Nuptial Joys, + When Men put fairly for a Brace of Boys, + Dying a Virgin once I more do dread, + Than ten times losing of a _Maiden head_; + For tho' it can't be seen nor understood, + Yet is it troublesome to Flesh and Blood. + + + _The Tenth Plague._ + + You heedless Maids, whose young and tender Hearts + Unwounded yet, have scop'd the fatal Darts; + Let the sad Fate of a poor Virgin move, + And learn by me to pay Respect to Love. + If one can find a Man fit for Love's Game, + To lose one's Maiden-head it is no Shame: + 'Tis no Offence, if from his tender Lip + I snatch a tonguing Kiss; if my fond Clip + With loose Embraces oft his Neck surround, + For Love in Debts of Nature's ever bound. + + + _The Eleventh Plague._ + + A _Maiden head_! Pish, in it's no Delight, + Nor have I Ease, but when returning Night, + With Sleep's soft gentle Spell my Senses charms, + Then Fancy some Gallant brings to my Arms: + In them I oft the lov'd Shadow seem + To grasp, and Joys, yet blush I too in Dream. + I wake, and long my Heart in Wonder lies, + To think on my late pleasing Extasies: + But when I'm waking, and don't yet possess, + In Sleep again I wish to enjoy the Bliss: + For Sleep do's no malicious Spies admit, + Yet yields a lively Semblance of Delight. + Gods! what a Scene of Joy was that! how fast + I clasp'd the Vision to my panting Breast? + With what fierce Bounds I sprung to meet the Bliss, + While my wrapt Soul flew out in ev'ry Kiss! + Till breathless, faint, and softly sunk away, + I all dissolv'd in reaking Pleasures lay. + + + _The Twelfth Plague._ + + Happen what will, I'll make some Lovers know + What Pains, what raging Pains I undergo, + Till I am really Heart-sick, almost Dead, + By keeping that damn'd thing a Maiden-head. + Which makes me with Green Sickness almost lost, + So pale, so wan, and looking like a Ghost, + Eating Chalk, Cindars, or Tobacco-Pipes, + Which with a Looseness scowers all my Tripes; + But e'er I'll longer this great Pain endure, + The Stews I'll search, but that I'll find a Cure. + + + _The Thirteenth Plague._ + + Let doating Age debate of _Law_ and _Right_, + And gravely state the Bounds of Just and Fit; + Whose Wisdom's but their Envy, to destroy + And bar those Pleasures which they can't enjoy. + My blooming Years, more sprightly and more gay, + By Nature were design'd for Love and Play: + Youth knows no Check, but leaps weak Virtue's Fence, + And briskly hunts the noble Chace of Sense! + Without dull thinking I'll Enjoyment trace, + And call that lawful whatsoe'er do's please. + Nor will my Crime want Instances alone, + 'Tis what the Glorious Gods above have done; + For _Saturn_, and his greater Off-spring _Jove_, + Both stock'd their Heaven with Incestuous Love. + + + _The Fourteenth Plague._ + + If any Man do's with my Bubbies play, + Squeeze my small Hand, as soft as Wax or Clay, + Or lays his Hands upon my tender Knees, + What strange tumultuous Joys upon me seize! + My Breasts do heave, and languish do my Eyes, + Panting's my Heart, and trembling are my Thighs; + I sigh, I wish, I pray, and seem to die, + In one continu'd Fit of Ecstacy; + Thus by my Looks may Man know what I mean, + And how he easily may get between + Those Quarters, where he may surprize a Fort, + In which an Emperor may find such Sport, + That with a mighty Gust of Love's Alarms, + He'd lie dissolving in my circling Arms; + But 'tis my Fate to have to do with Fools, + Who're very loth and shy to use their Tools, + To ease a poor, and fond distressed Maid, + Of that same Load, of which I'm not afrad + To lose with any Man, tho' I should die, + For any Tooth (good Barber) is my Cry. + + + _The Fifteenth Plague._ + + Alas! I care not, Sir, what Force you'd use, + So I my Maiden-head could quickly lose: + Oft do I wish one skill'd in _Cupid_'s Arts, + Would quickly dive into my secret Parts; + For as I am, at Home all sorts of Weather, + I kit,----as Heaven and Earth would come together, + Twirling a Wheel, I sit at home, hum drum, + And spit away my Nature on my Thumb; + Whilst those that Marry'd are, invited be + To Labours, Christnings, where the Jollitry + Of Women lies in telling, as some say, + When 'twas they did at Hoity-Toity play; + Whose Husband's Yard is longest, whilst another + Can't in the least her great Misfortune smother, + So tells, her Husband's Bauble is so short, + That when he Hunts, he never shews her Sport. + Now I, because I have my Maiden-head, + Mayn't know the Pastimes of the Nuptial Bed; + But mayn't I quickly do as Marry'd People may, + I'll either kill my self, or shortly run away. + + + _FINIS._ + + + * * * * * + + _The_ Maids _Vindication:_ + + OR, THE + + Fifteen Comforts of living a Single Life. + + + Being an _ANSWER_ to the _Fifteen + Plagues of a Maiden-head_. + + + _Written by a Gentlewoman._ + + [Illustration] + + _London_, Printed for _J. Rogers_ in _Fleet-Street_, 1707. + + + + + _The_ Maids _Vindication:_ + + OR, + + + The Fifteen Comforts of + being a Maid, _&c._ + + + _The First Comfort._ + + Ye _British_ Maids with _British_ Beauty blest, + Wife as you're Fair, of ev'ry Grace possest, + Do not the least degenerate from your Worth, + Nor be less Chaste because you're thus set forth; + Have Patience then, and I'll revenge your Cause, + And all the deep Designs of wicked Men expose, + Shew the dear Comforts of a Single Life, + With all the Plagues and Ills of Wh----re or Wife. + + + _The Second Comfort._ + + Tell me you Grave Disputers of the Schools, + You learned Coxcombs, and you well read Fools; + You that have told us, Man must be our Head, + And made _Dame Nature_ Pimp to what you've said, + Tell me where are the Joys of womans Life, + When she consents to be a wedded Wife: + Much less if she too kind and easie proves, + And grants her Heart to one that swears he loves, + I will not call her W----re, because I know + 'Twas his false Oaths and Lyes that made her so: + But you that would to your own selves be just, + Nor Friend nor Husband but with caution trust. + + + _The Third Comfort._ + + And first, the greatest lasting'st Plague of Life, + Husband; the Constant Jaylor of a wife, + A proud insulting dominering thing, + Abroad a subject, but at Home a King, + There he in State does Arbitrary Reign, + And lordlike pow'r do's o'er his wife maintain. + For when she puts the Marriage Garments on, } + The pleasures Ended e'er 'tis well begun: } + But Plagues increase and hardly e're have done, } + The joy he Courted he dispises now, + And do's a perfect Married Nausiance grow, + + + _The Fourth Comfort._ + + It's Jealousie that maggot of the pate, + Possess the Sot, how violent's his hate, + What curst suspitions haunt his tortur'd Mind, + And make him look for what he would not find, + Nothing but Females must i'th House appear, + And not a Dog or Cat, that's Male be there, + Nay lest the unhappy wife shou'd have her longings, + He cuts out all the Men i'th Tapstry Hangings, + And if a harmless Letter's to her sent, + He'll make it speak worse sense than e'er it meant. + + + _The Fifth Comfort._ + + In a Curst Chamber, Cloyster'd up for Life, + Loves Female Innocence miscall'd a wife, + Deny'd those Pleasures are to Virtue granted, + Yearly the Devil of a Husband haunted, + for a Release she cannot Hope nor Pray, + Till milder Death takes him, or her away, + If her she's happy, and if him she's bless'd, + Till to her arms she takes a second Guest. + + + _The Sixth Comfort._ + + If Beauty, Wit, or Com[*?]aisance would do, + There's women that can all these wonders show, + Beauty that might new fire to Hermit lend, + And wit which serves that Beauty to defend, + who courted, cou'd do wonders with those Charms, + Till Parson conjur'd her to Husbands Arms, + And tho' the same perfections still remain + Yet nothing now can the dull Creature gain, + No looks can win him, nor no Smiles invite, + He now does her, and her Endearments slight, + And leaves those Graces which he shou'd adore, + To dote upon some Ugly suburb whore, + whilst poor neglected Spouse remains at home, + with discontent and Sorrow overcome, + No prayers, nor tears, nor all the Virtuous arts. + which women use to tame Rebellous Hearts. + Can the Incorrigible H[*?] move, + And make him own his once so promis'd love, + + + _The Seventh Comfort_ + + Oh she a happy, too too happy Bride, + That has a Husband snoring by her side, + Belching out Fumes of undigested wine, + And lies all Night like a good natur'd Swine, + whose Snoring serves as Musick to her Ears, + And keeps true Confort with her silent Tears, + That can himself no more than _Chaos_ move, + And still neglects the great affair of love, + She may indeed assume the name of wife, + But others know she's but a Nurse for life. + + + _The Eighth Comfort._ + + A drunken Husband tho may have good nature, + But here's a fullen Matrimonial Creature, + will ask, and will not, will ask, and will deny + Is Peevish, Cross, and cannot tell for why, + Not one kind look he will to Spouse afford, + Scarce speake at all, at least not one good word, + All the obliging arts that she can use, + To reconcile this angry pevish Spouse, + Avail no more, than if she took delight, + In washing Bricks, or Swarthy _Negroes_ white, + Lyons, and Tyger Men have learnt to tame; + Retaining nothing frightful but the Name, + But Man, unruly man, that Beast of reason, + 'Gainst women still continues in his Treason. + No Charms his damn'd ill nature can release, + _Satan_, must only _Satan_ disposes. + + + _The Ninth Comfort._ + + Nor Marriage is alone the dang'rous shelf, + On which a woman may destroy her self, + Believe no whineing Fool that Swears he loves, + And for your Pity to his Passion moves: + with fair decoying words he glids the Cheat, + Tells her the Sin, nor Danger are so great, + The joy is past the reach of Humane view, + And adds it will for ever bind him to be True: + But oh! if Maids upon this Quicksand run, + They're lost past hope, and are for e'er undone, + + + _The Tenth Comfort._ + + Another swears he'll keep you all your Life, + Without the ugly Names, _of Man and Wife_. + And to that End what Arts, what Tricks are laid, + T' insnare the Virtuous Young unthinking Maid, + What rev'rend Bawd's made use of to Entice, + The Fair one's liking to that Modish Vice. + How she at last is guided to his Arms, + Where for a while he Doats upon her Charms. + But long she can't the airy Title hold, + Her look'd for Joys are scarce a Twelve Month Old, + Before _Kind Keeper_ takes another Miss, + By sad Experience weary grown of this. + + + _The Eleventh Comfort._ + + Are these the Sov'reigns then that we must own, + Must we before their Golden Calves bow down, + Forgive us Heav'n, if we renounce the Elves, + And make a Common-wealth among our Selves, + Whereby the Laws that we shall there Ordain. + We'll make it Capital to mention Man, + Man! we'll for ever banish from our sight, + Not talk by Day, nor think of them by Night, + We'll shun their Courtship, as we do the Plague, + And loath 'em more than they a Toothless Hagg. + + + _The Twelfth Comfort._ + + 'Tis not their Sighs, Crying, nor Prayers, + Their subtile Whinings, nor Treacherous Tears, + That shall one kind Return for ever gain, + But when t' oblige us they've done all they can, + We'll laugh, deride, and scorn the Foppish Sex, + And wrank Invention for new ways to vex, + Till they to shun us, prompted by Despair, + Or Drown themselves, or hung in cleanly Air. + + + _The Thirteenth Comfort._ + + But if amongst us there should chance to be, + One silly fond regardless foolish She, + That spight of all our Edicts will maintain + A League with that detested Creature _Man:_ + Good Counsels first shall strive to bring her off, + But if the Fool will that good Counsel scoff, + If she the freedom of her Sex will leave, + And love a Wretch she knows that will deceive, + From Pity well exempt the _Female_ Sot, + That wretched Thing a _Husband_ be her Lot. + + + _The Fourteenth Comfort._ + + Jealous by Day, and Impotent by Night, + Have neither Shape nor Mein to please the Sight + Diseas'd in Body, and deform'd in Soul, + Conceited, Proud, yet all the while a Fool: + May she with him spin out a tedious Life, + Blest with that much admir'd Title, _Wife_. + And may no Female better Fate partake, + That prophane the wholsome Laws we make. + + + _The Fifteenth Comfort._ + + And may the silly Maid that is so blind, } + To trust Man's Oaths that are as false as Wind, } + And only to her Ruin are design'd, } + That thinks her Vertue is a Plague of Life, + And will to cure it, yield as Whore or Wife. + Find all the Ills that have before been said, + And lose for endless Plauges her Maiden-head, + Who will not bear what they infer a Pain, + And laugh at all the base Delights of Men. + + + _FINIS._ + + + * * * * * + + THE + + Fifteen PLEASURES + + OF A + + VIRGIN. + + WRITTEN + + By the suppos'd AUTHOR of + + THE + + Fifteen Plagues + + OF A + + Maidenhead. + + + _Virtus, repulsæ nescia fortidæ, + Intimitatis fulget honoribus._ Hor. L. 3. Od. 1. + + + LONDON: Printed in the Year, 1709. + + + + + AN + + APOLOGY + + FOR + + The Fifteen Plagues of a Maidenhead, + by the Imputed Author thereof. + + + Suppose 'twas I, you thought, had drew my Pen + On Virtue, see I fight for her agen; + Wherefore, I hope my Foes will all excuse + Th' Extravagance of a Repenting Muse; + Pardon whate'er she has too boldly said, + She only acted then in Masquerade; + But now the Vizard's off, She's chang'd her Scene, + And turns a Modest, Civil Girl agen; + Let some admire the Fops whose Talent lie + Inventing dull, insipid Blasphemy; + I swear I cannot with those Terms dispence, + Nor won't be Damn'd for the Repute of Sense; + I cou'd be Bawdy much, and nick the Times, + In what they dearly Love; damn'd Placket Rhimes; + But that such Naus'ous Lines can reach no higher + Than what the Cod-Piece or Buffoons inspire. + + To noble Satyr, I'll direct my Aim, + And bite Mankind, and Poetry Reclaim; + I'll ever use my Wit another Way, + And next the Ugliness of Vice display. + + _Yours, &c._ + + + + + THE + + FIFTEEN P----s + + OF A + + VIRGIN. + + + _The first P----._ + + In these unhappy and more wretched Days, + Eclipsed with Debauchery and Plays! + Virgins can scarce stir out, but some dull Fop, + Impertinently kind, her way will stop, + And almost force Her to some House of Sin, + Her Innocence and Virtue to draw in; + And if he can her Modesty invade, + Glad with her Spoils and Trophies of a Maid, + The Villain is the first that will complain + Her foul Dishonour, and polluted Shame. + + + _The Second P----._ + + A Maid dispos'd to take the gentle Air, + And to _Grays-Inn_, or _Temple-Walks_ repair; + No sooner enters she the Garden Gate, + Sits down, and thinks of going e're 'tis late, + But some insipid Squire having spy'd her, + Takes Heart of Steel, and boldly squats beside her. + He thus accosts her,--Madam, _Ah! by Gad + You're wond'rous Fair; but Lady, why so sad?_ + Her Innocence he thinks will soon submit, + To all the swagg'ring Tyrants of his Wit; + But being strictly taught in Vertue's School, + She does not only slight the prating Fool, + Contemn'd his Actions, and his feigned Tone, + But leaves the Lawyer strait to Curse alone. + + + _The Third P----._ + + The Maid that's Blessed with a beauteos Face, + A gentile Air, and as genteel a Grace; + On her some am'rous Beau soon casts his Eyes, + And to obtain the much admired Prize; + He fashionably dresses, struts, looks big, + Like _John_ of _Gaunt_, and in a pond'rous Wig; + A subtle, sly, and cunning Ambuscade, + For her Virginity is quickly laid; + Of Love he tells a Thousand Fictious Tales, + Till over her Discretion Lust prevails, + But modest Maids, whose young and tender Hearts + Unwounded yet, have the scap'd fatal Darts; + Let the sad Fates of wanton Strumpets move, + And learn by them to shun unlawful Love: + Thus Virgins, if you'll Modesty embrace, + By making all Allurements give you place: + Virtue a Sanctuary e'er shall be + Against the Quivers of Iniquity. + + + _The Fourth P----._ + + A Maid of honest, but mean Parents Born, + These Times is only made the rich Man's scorn, + Howe'er her Beauty tempting some young Spark + He takes her to the Playhouse and the Park, + Where he with many Imprecations vows, + His Fortune and his Life to her he owes; + But finding his Temptations are in vain, + Her Company in Wrath he do's refrain; + Which at the first may touch her tender Heart, + And make her feel the force of _Cupid_'s Dart; + But Time and Absence Having made a Cure + Of that same Plague she could not first endure. + She says, as now I'm well, recite not then + The Falshood and Deceit of Perjur'd Men, + Virtue retain'd, that Man I'll ever slight, + Whom I cannot by Marriage claim my Right. + + + _The Fifth P----, in a Dialogue betwixt_ Cloris + _and_ Parthenisea. + + _Clo._ Why dost thou all Address deny? + Hard-hearted _Parthenisea_, why? + See how the trembling Lovers come, + That from thy Lips expect their Doom. + + _Par._ _Cloris!_ I hate them all, they know, + Nay I have often told them so; + Their silly Politicks abhorr'd: + I scorn to make my Slave my Lord. + + _Clo._ But _Strephon_'s Eyes proclaim His Love + Too brave, Tyrannical to prove. + + _Par._ Ah _Cloris!_ when we lost our Power? + We must obey the Conqueror. + + _Clo._ Yet when a gentle Prince bears sway, + It is no Bondage to Obey. + + _Par._ But if like _Nero_, for a while, + With Arts of Kindness he beguile, + How shall the Tyrant be withstood, + When he has writ his Laws in Blood? + + _Clo._ Love (_Parthenisea_) all commands, + it fetters Kings in charming Bands; + _Mars_ yields his Arms to _Cupid_'s Darts, + And Beauty softens Savage Hearts. + + _Par._ Well may you choose to be a Wife, + I'll still retain a Single Life. + + + _The Sixth P----._ + + Rid of a Coxcomb, next a Siege is laid + Against the weak Repulses of a Maid, + By one that keeps a Coach and Lackies too, + And that he might his wicked Plots pursue, + In gawdy Dress he would her Heart surprize, + with Gold to dazle her too watchful Eyes; + But Vertue cherishing her Virtuous Breast, + With so much Innocence which made her blest, + Her Innocence as hitherto ne'er knew + What Mischief _Venus_ or her Son cou'd do, + + + _The Seventh P----._ + + Where blindfold Fortune has been pleas'd to place + A Virgen with a Master void of Grace, + With Foot, with Hand, or Eyes, he'll Tokens speak, + The Signs deny, these Assignations make; + Thinks she shall be as pliant to his Use, + As Strumpets on a _Cornival_ let loose; + But if she's Chast, his Miss she will not be, + Unless she is as Fiend, and Base as he. + + + _The Eighth P----._ + + _A_ Negro _Courting onto a maid, + That was most Fair; to him she said, + Thy Ink, my Papper, make me guess, + Our Nuptial Bed will make a Press, + And to our Sports, if any came + They'll read a Wanton Epigram,_ + + + _The Ninth P----._ + + _How many Sweethearts do these follow me + Whose fell Design I know's to Ruine me; + but let me banish this forbidden Fire, + Or quench it with my Blood, or with't expire; + Unstain'd in Honour; and unhurt in Fame, + I'll never blast Virginity Shame,_ + + + _The Tenth P----._ + + _A Sailor vowing he would all his Life, + Be true to me, he took another Wife; + whose Folshood (not as e're he did Invade + My Honour) made me sick, and, dying, said, + Ah now at my last Hour I gasping lie: + Let only my kind Murtherer be by, + Let him, while I breath out my Soul in Sighs, + Or gaz't away, look on with pitying Eyes; + Let him (for sure he can't deny me this) + Seal my cold Lips with one dear parting Kiss._ + + + _The Eleventh P----._ + + _To have a Sweetheart once it was my Fate, + Whom much I lov'd, and now as much do hate, + Fo going to be coupled for my Life, + He was took from me by a former Wife; + Henceforwards I shall ever cautious be + Of Marrying one, a Stranger unto me._ + + + _The Twelfth P----._ + + _A Sweetheart whom I lov'd, and he lov'd me, + Intoxicated with Cursed Jealousie, + Without a Cause, my Innocence did slight, + Which urged soon my Passion thus to write, + Kind Health, which you, and only you can grant, + Which, if deny'd, I must for ever want; + To you your Lover sends; but blushing Shame, + In silence bids my Paper hide my Name. + Witness what Pains (for you alone can know) + Poor helpless I do bear and undergo; + A thousand Racks and Martyrdoms, and more + Than a weak Virgin can be thought, I bore: + You rule alone my Arbitrary Fate, + And Life and on your disposal wait. + How little more remains for me to crave! + How little more for you to give! O save + A wretched Maid undone by Love and you, + Who does in Tears and dying Accents sue; + Who bleeds that Passion she had ne'er reveal'd, + If not by Love, Almighty Love compell'd:_ + No ever let her mournful Tomb complain, + Here _Phillis_, kill'd by your cold Disdain; + And to her Honour let it e'er be said, + She dy'd a faithful Lover, yet a Maid. + + + _The Thirteenth P----._ + + Blessed with Beauty, Money, Youth and Wit, + I'm daily plagu'd with some Penurious Cit, + But e'er I will to such be forc'd to yield, + To a Man of Sense I Will resign the Field, + For Men of Breeding more of Love can show, + Than dull Mechanicks e'er can learn or know. + + + _The Fourteenth P----._ + + A Maid can scarce into a Service get, + But Prentice Boys (void both of Sense and Wit) + Will lead the Servant such a tedious Life, + To Change the Name of Maid to that of Wife, + That she, to shun their solid Impudence, + Must leave her Service in her own Defence. + + + _Fifteenth P----._ + + What spiteful Star, when I was Born did Rule, + That I'm thus teazed with a whining Fool, + Which is the very worst of Fools; for he, + Got in a Stran of dull Simplicity, + Crys, _Agdes!_ See my looks, my wishing Eyes, + My melting Tears and hear my begging Sighs; + About your Neck I could have flung my Arms, + And been all over Love, all over Charms; + Grasp and hang on your K----, and there have dy'd, + There breath my gasping Soul out tho' deny'd. + My earnest Suits shall never give you rest, + While Life and Love more durable shall last; + Alive I'll Pray, 'till Breath in Pray'rs be lost, + And after come a kind beseeching Ghost. + He thought these soft Expressions soon might move + My Heart, which was bequeath'd before to Love, + No, no, these whiedling Fops I really hate, + And since I am resolv'd to change my State, + A Man of Wit and Sense I do adore, + To him I grant my Favours and my Store, + As certain Wedlock with so good a Choice, + May make my Judgment, whilst I live rejoice. + + + _FINIS._ + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony: +Responses From Women, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIFTEEN COMFORTS OF MATRIMONY *** + +***** This file should be named 13972.txt or 13972.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/9/7/13972/ + +Produced by David Starner, Fred Robinson and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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