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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.


* * * * *






By the suppos'd AUTHOR of


Fifteen Plagues



_Virtus, repulsæ nescia fortidæ,
Intimitatis fulget honoribus._ Hor. L. 3. Od. 1.

LONDON: Printed in the Year, 1709.




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 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.



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