The insinuating bawd and the repenting harlot written by a whore at Tunbridge, and dedicated to a bawd at the Bath.

THE Insinuating Bawd: OR, THE Repenting Harlot.

HAPPY was I, before I knew to Sin; All Charms without, all Innocence within; No Hateful Envy, my Content withstood; All things were Grateful, whilst my self was Good: Unsulli'd Pleasures in my Bosom dwelt, My Peaceful Soul no Headstrong Passion felt: No Shame pursu'd, or, did my Mind Affright; But ev'ry Hour administred Delight: Blest as th' Aspiring Angels, e'er they Fell; The World seem'd Heaven, for I knew no Hell. No Pride or Lust, my Virgin Brightness Stain'd, Or Vicious Thoughts my Virtuous Will Prophan'd: My Looks and Actions Artless did appear; Tho' each Oblig'd, yet both Unstudy'd were; Without Design, all Innocent and Free; I knew no Sin, and could no Curse foresee. My Beauty and Deportment were approv'd, By th' Old Applauded, by the Young Belov'd.

Thus was my Youth by Virtue's Charms inspir'd, By all Respected, and by most Admir'd; Proud was the Man, and Blest the Happy He, That could obtain one minutes Companie; Which then to the false Sex I could impart, And feel no Feaverish Throbing in my Heart. Talk of Chaste Love, and raise no ill Desire, Toy without Kindling up a Lustful Fire; Could Wander without Fear from Field to Grove, And think of nothing but the Name of Love: Yet found my Sweeter Innocence supply'd The want of Joys my Tender years deny'd. Thus I remain▪d from Sinful Sorrows free, No Saint on Earth could sure more Happy be; Till I the Term of Sixteen years had been A Faithful Subject to bright Virtue's Queen; And then my own Base Sex seduc'd me first to Sin. One who by long Experience knew the way To raise Desires would Tender Youth betray, And make the Giddy Maid, with Eager haste, Pursue those Pleasures, 'tis a Crime to Taste. The insinuating Temptress, thus began To Bribe my Ears, and Bend my Thoughts t'wards Man.

Madam, Since Heav'n so largely has bestow'd On you those Blessings, but to few allow'd▪ And now your Charms, in Natures Law's Ʋntaught, Are by Ripe Years to full Perfection brought; 'Tis to the Donor sure a great abuse, When grown Mature, to keep 'em back from Ʋse: By our Grave Guides, how often are we told, How much the Miser Sins, that hoards his Gold.

If you those Charms from their true Ʋse Conceal, You're doubtless Guilty of as great an Ill. Beauty, like Money, 's made to be Employ'd; And not by Age to molter Ʋn-enjoy'd: For it were, where would the diff'rence be, Betwixt the Fairest, and the Homely'st She? The soft Young Damsel, with her Magick Eyes, And all the Charms Dame Nature can Devise, If she but Tempts to what must be Deny'd, Imprisons Beauty by a Senseless Pride; The Dowdy's far more Blest, that freely is Enjoy'd. For Niggards, tho' Possest with useless Store, Thro' Willful wants, Live Poorer than the Poor: Consider, Child, what Pity it would be, That Fruit like yours, should Wither on the Tree: Those Rubie Cheeks, that look so Fresh and Gay, Will in short time, if not Enjoy'd, Decay. That warm Complexion, that preserves the Grace Of each soft Feature in your Lovely Face, Will Sickly grow, and Fade in spight of Art, Lest the Blind God, soon Bleeds you with his Dart: See how Lucinda's Charms at once are gone, Whose Eyes of late, with so much Lustre shone; And all the Roses that her Cheeks Adorn'd, Are into Yellow Fading Tulips turn'd; Her Limbs, that with such Air and Freedom mov'd, Are Lazy grown, unfit to be Belov'd: Her deprav'd Stomach does for nothing Call, But Cinders, Oat-Meal, 'Baccopipes, and Wall: Her Blood's Corrupted, and her Breath's grown Short; And all for want of Love's Salubrious Sport.

Therefore, Dear Madam, don't Repent too Late, That you are fall'n beneath Lucinda's Fate; B••••••••se the happy means that may prevent Those Ills occasion'd by severe Restraint: Such Knowledge you will find, such Pleasure take In the first Sweet Experiment you make; You'll own each Blissful moment you Employ, Is worth an Age Exempted from the Joy. Your Soul will find an Extasie so great, What now you Fear, you'll Study to Repeat. The Ʋnexperienc'd Nymph that's Chaste and Fair, Does but the Fetters of Blind Ign'rance wear; Whilst she that's Wise, dissolves the feeble Chain, By Vent'ring once to lose what's kept in Pain. When I first took the Counsel that I give, Such Pleasing Knowledge did my Soul Revive, I'd rather Feast and Dye, than not to Taste and Live.

Madam, said I, I know not what you mean, Something methinks I want, but fear to Sin; You Talk of Joys to such a Blest degree, What's sure so Pleasant, cannot Sinful be; And yet methinks, who'd Heavens Laws Controul, Were it not Pleasure that beguil'd the Soul? Barely the Hopes, not certainty of Joy, Did Eve, amidst her Innocence Decoy; 'Twas not the Fruit, but what the Tempter said, That her weak Nature to his Will Betray'd. If Talk of Pleasures will the Mind subdue, What then must Joys in full Fruition do. The very Words are Pleasant you impart, And makes a Wellcome Feaver in my Heart:

My Soul Divided, struggles hard within; Betwixt the Hopes of Joy, and Fear of Sin: A warm Desire thro' ev'ry Fibre glides; Something I want, which something else forbids, What 'tis you've made me Covet to Possess, Dear Madam tell me, for I cannot guess.

With Looks disorder'd, I approach'd more nigh, And eagerly attended her Reply. Finding her Words had some Impression made, She took me by the Hand, and thus she said:

Madam, The Joys your full-blown Years require, Are Just to Act, and Nat'ral to Desire: 'Tis the sweet Game that all Mankind pursue, The Prince, the Peasant, Priest, and Poet too: It Sweetens Life in every Degree; Makes Crowns sit Easie, and the Pen run Free: It is the Virgins Hope, the Wives Delight, The Business of the Day, the Bliss of Night. It begets Frendship, puts an end to Strife, Is the Blest Warmth that gives the World new Life. Such are the Joys, you now are Ripe to Prove, I'th' Sweet Embraces of a Man you Love, Hugg'd in his Arms, if Pliable and Kind; There, there, the Happy Secret you will find.

But Man, said I, I've heard my Mother say, Is False, and cannot Love above a Day; Will Swear ten thousand Lyes, to be Believ'd; And Fawn, and Flatter, till h'has one Deceiv'd: But when h'has gain'd his End, inclin'd to Rove, Slights what he Vow'd he could for Ages Love. And leaves the Sighing Wretch he has betray'd, To drown in Tears, the false kind things he said. How then can I such Happiness obtain, From Faithless Man, so Fickle, and so Vain.

Methinks, I only could the Youth approve, That could, like me, for Ever ever Love; Conform to th' Sacred Tye, make me his Wife, And bind himself to Love me for his Life: In such a Man, I'm sure I could Delight, Please him all Day, and Hug him close all Night.

Dear Child, says she, You much, Alas! mistake; Those Bonds are Tiresome which we cannot break: Fear, Jealousie, and Doubt, Improve the Bliss; The Pleasure's Lost, when Chains have made you his. Our Sex too often has Confest, in Tears, Cupid withdraws, when once the Priest appears: Marriage and Love, we by Experience find, Differ like Freedom, and Restraint, in kind; And if they mix, 'tis with much Pains and Toil, As Skilful Cooks, mix Vinegar with Oyl. Therefore in Love, if you would happy be, Keep, whilst you're Youthful, Unconfin'd and Free: And if your weary Confident should Range, The Bonds are Void, and you your self may change: Your Love, whenever your Gallant has Err'd, May to another justly be Transferr'd: But if in Wedlocks Fetters, you are Bound, For Wrongs you Suffer, no Relief is found; Slights and Neglects; nay, Blows perhaps endure; And bear with Patience, what Revenge should Cure: Husbands maintain an Arbitrary Sway, Whilst the Poor Wife must Suffer, and Obey; And like a Kingdom into Slav'ry drawn; Thro' Fear, not Love, upon her Tyrant Fawn. Thus must you Study (tho' Opprest) to Please, All other means are worse than the Disease. Marriage, as us'd, is but a Womans Yoke; A Knot for Life, too Stubborn to be broke;

A Prison, which if once you're into't Cast, Makes the Sweet Fruit, but Nauseous to the Taste. Therefore the Freedom you Enjoy, Maintain; Liberty Lost, is difficult to Regain: Whilst Single, you may many Hearts subdue; Discharge the Faithless, and Oblige the True; If tir'd with Old ones, change 'em still for New. But if you're Marry'd, you're at once undone, And made a despicable Slave to one; Your Actions all, are Watch'd by many Eyes; Your very Servants that attend, are Spies; And each chance Folly, tho' you meant no hurt, Is made Suspicious, by their false Report. But in the State of Freedom, you're at Ease; At Leisure may your self or others Please; Fear no Reproof, be under no Command; List who you Please; and when you Please, Disband: Gain, with your Smiles, fresh Conquests ev'ry hour; Hero's themselves will yield to Beauties Pleasing Power.

Nature b'ing Headstrong, and my Virtue Weak, Methoughts, I could for ever hear her Speak; I fond of Joy, and Pleas'd with what she said, Too soon Believing, was too soon Misled. Virtue, 'tis true, some Opposition gave; But Rebel Nature would the Conquest have; And ev'ry Vein with willing Warmth inspir'd, To Play it's part in what the whole desir'd; B'ing Ripe and Eager now to be Undone, I to my Temptress thus again begun:

Madam, said I, But where's the Man so just, With whom a Virgin may her Honour trust? Of all the Sex, I most admire a Beau, But fear he'll Boast the Favours I bestow; Yet to a Beau, I could my Heart Resign, He Looks so Prim, so Pritty, and so Fine; Is so Obliging, Complisant and Free; Dances, and Hums about so Prettilie: What would I Give, or what but I would do, Could I so dear a Creature but subdue? Oh how I'd Love him, his Esteem to Gain, Methinks a Beau, is a Delicious Man.

The Cunning Dame, who now my Pulse had felt, To raise Desire, these Pleasing Measures dealt:

Madam, The Pritty'st Gentleman I know, You ever saw, or all the World can show; Whose Comely Stature, and Engaging Mein, Would Tempt a Princess, nay, a Saint, to Sin; So Brisk and Youthful, Vigorous and Gay, So Courteous, and Obliging every way; Earth cannot sure produce a Maid that can Resist the Charms of so Compleat a Man; H'has seen you twice, I've heard him since oft say; One time at Church, another at a Play: And Vows, you are the Sweetest Pritty Rogue, That Mortal Man would e'er desire to Hugg; Swears he could Dote upon your Lovely Face, And gaze all day upon each Charming Grace: Your Eyes have Prick'd his Breast with such a Dart, He'd give ten thousand Worlds to gain your Heart. When I've but Nam'd you, he has seem'd so glad; T'wards you such kind and pritty things has said, Sigh'd, Stretch'd, and Vow'd, he always could adore; And still Enjoy, yet still Love more and more: Had you been by, you could have done no less, Than Yeilded what he Covets to Possess: Against such Force, no Virtue could maintain Its Ground, Oh, he's a wond'rous pritty Man!

This false Suggestion, set me all on Fire; And turn'd my Fears into a Strong Desire: Her Verbal Witchcraft did my Heart subdue; And made me Languish, for I know not who.

Madam, said I, But when shall I obtain, A Sight of this sweet Miracle of Man; And do you think he Loves me? Yes, said she, O then thought I, how happy shall I be; Handsome, Obliging, Young, not given to Rove: Such a dear Man, I could for ever Love: O let me see him, and the Youth shall find, If he'll be true, I'll Study to be kind.

When the Dame found, she my Consent had won, And I was thus inclin'd to be undone.

Put on your Hood and Scarf, dear Child, says she, I'll make you Happy; come along with me, And you shall see, e'er a few hours be Past, The Lovely Tree, and it's sweet Fruit shall Taste: Do you but like the Charming Youth be kind, And you this Night, a Blissful Heav'n shall find: Your Soul shall surfeit with Delights unknown, And Sum up all the Joys on Earth in one.

Like our first Mother I was Loth to miss, What false Report had render'd such a Bliss: But with my best Attire, my Charms improv'd, Fed with vain hopes of b'ing the more belov'd; Wash, Powder, Patches, all th' alluring Arts, Practic'd by Ladies to ensnare Mens Hearts. Thus did I Labour (Curse upon the Day) To Tempt that Breast, wherein the Serpent lay: Wretch that I am, was hasty to destroy My whole Life's Comfort for a moments Joy. So Insects fly to Flames which they should shun, And fond of Light, are by the Fire undone; When drest, some Checks within my Soul I found, But flowing Vice, the Gardian Angel drown'd: A Storm of Lust had so enrag'd my Blood, Alas, I could not Listen to my Good. When thus Equip'd, we made our next approach, To the Street Door, and becken'd to a Coach. My base Conductress did Directions give, And bid the Churl, to th' inward Temple drive; Where Liv'd my unknown Love, so Gay and Fine, Before made Privy to the Curs'd design: When I alas, to th' Sinful Mansion came; My Pulse beat high, my Cheeks were Dy'd with Shame: She knock'd, and such an Angel let us in, Whose out-side out-shone all I'd ever seen: His Gown with Red, Blew, Yellow Stripes was crost, Gaudy as Flame in a hard Winters Frost; Clad in the Morning Trapings of a Bean; He Bow'd, and Cring'd, and made a Lovely show:

His Lips as soft as Leaves of Roses felt, His Breath, like an Arabian Garden Smelt. From his kind Tongue all Love and Sweetness flow'd, And ev'ry gentle touch his hand bestow'd, Made a strange Ebolition in my Blood. He brought forth Sack, and Drank, but I deny'd, Till begging he prevail'd, and I Comply'd. Thus Enter'd, the Procuress took her Leave; That she'd return, did an Assurance give; Feign'd business, and intreated me to stay, Whilst she dispatch'd Affairs some other way: Rid of her Presence, he began his Court; Hugg'd me, and Kiss'd me, till my Breath grew short; Call'd me Fair Angel, and his Charming Saint, Smother'd with Kisses, I began to Faint; Was sometimes Cold, and then again grew hot, Panted and Trembled, at I knew not what. In this disorder by indecent Force, He something did that made me ten times worse; With all my Might, I struggl'd; but half Dead, With his strong Armes, he tost me on his Bed; Where o'er his Victim he Triumphant got, And did 'twixt Pain and Pleasure, Heav'n knows what: When thus Corrupted with the first Delight, He then perswaded me to stay all Night, I yeilded, but the false seducing Dame▪ Regardless of her Treach'rous word ne'er came; At first he prov'd all Love; I too was kind, Expecting still more Joys than I could find: But when few hours was spent, he turn'd his Back, And grew, methoughts, Cold, Negligent, and Slack: I call'd him dear, but could not make him Speak; I Hugg'd him, Tugg'd him, but he would not Wake: I'th' Morning Early, by the break o'th' day, He roughly told me, that I must not stay; I much asham'd arose, and Weeping went away. I Vex••d••and Angry to be thus Misus'd, Though as I found, I'd been by both abus'd;

Discov'ring, when too late, the Jilting Dame Sold me to quench the Leachers Lustful Flame: And went wi'th' Judas Pence, she'd basely gain'd To th' Bath, to have her Rotten Corps new clean'd; There Stew her Crazy Limbs, with a Vain thought Of Curing Pains her Youthful Sins begot.

When enter'd thus, I th' tempting Vice pursu'd, And from my first Corruption grew more Lew'd; Till by Promiscuous use, I found in th' end, The Sowrest Pains, the Sweetest Sins attend: Such Poisonous Ulcers did my Crimes ensue; I nauseous to my self and others grew: Thus were my Pleasures punish'd with a Curse; No Leprosie of Job, could sure be worse; My Blood did into Loathsome Issues melt; The parts that Sin'd the most, most Torment felt. Beneath these Miseries, I to Tunbridge went, Backward to Dye, but willing to Repent; In hopes the cooling Waters would have eas'd, Or quench'd those Fires, my stubborn Lust had rais'd. But when I found the Wells yeild no Relief, My hopes were turn'd into Despair, and Grief. I then reflecting on my wretched State, In Tears, did with my self thus Ruminate: Alas what am I! whither am I stray'd? By Lust and Pride, from Virtues Paths missed: What shameful shadows of my Guilt draw near? How Black and Monst'rous, do my Ills appear? My thoughts, like Ghastly Fiends, my Soul affright, And threaten her with sad Destruction's Night: How Pale and Yellow, these poor Cheeks are grown, Which once look'd fresh, as Roses newly Blown? How Lank my Breasts, how Nauseous is my Breath? O where's my only kind Physician, Death? How happy was I once, when I was free From Sinful Thought, from Shame and Miserie; When ev'ry Eye my spotless Charms admir'd, Enjoying all my Virtuous Life requir'd?

Where are the Flatt'rers, that my Love pursu'd, And would have giv'n whole Worlds to do me good? Alas, too late, to my sad Grief I find, 'Twas Innocence alone made all things kind: Sweet Innocence, that can it self defend, And make ill-Natur'd Envy prove it's Friend: Bright Innocence, thou Blest and Charming Dove, Whom ev'ry Mortal must Admire and Love; When thee I lost, my Guardian Angel fled, And ever since, I've been unhappy made. Lust in thy Absence, got the Upper-hand, And made me Servile to its base Command: O that I'd been but some poor Bargeman's Wife, To've Lugg'd and Tugg'd, at the great Oar for Life: Or what is worse, had been a Botchers Spouse, To've Mended nitty Coats, and stinking Hose; For one Days Living, to have two Days Starv'd, So that my Health and Virtue, I'd preserv'd; I'd been more happy than the fairest she, That L〈…〉〈…〉 Libertie. Curse on the Female Tongue, that drew me in; And for base Lucre, Taught me first to Sin: May her Nose fall, her Reines and Shinbones Rot, And begging without pitty be her Lot: May her Vile Womb Incessant Fury have; And her Limbs drop by piece-meal to the Grave: And may that Man, that brib'd her to seduce Me Wretched Creature, to his Beastly Use, Be Doom'd the only Stallion to her Lust, Till Pox and Age, dry both into a Crust. Ladies beware▪ let Miserable me The sad Example of a Harlot be: Let not Loose Women Tempt you to the Hook, With which themselves unwarily were took; For if you're once betray'd, you'll surely find, You're Curs'd from the first moment you are Kind.

FINIS.