ADVICE To Young Gentlemen; OR, An Answer to the LADIES of LONDON.  
To the Tune of, The Ladies of London.  
This may be Printed, R. P.  
 

ALl jolly Blades that Inhabit the Town,  
And with the fair Sex are contriving,  
From the Gay Fop, to the honest bred Clown,  
be advisd to resolve against Wiving;  
Let not a prospect of Pleasure delude,  
where so many Plagues are attending,  
For 'tis the Nature of Wives to Obtrude,  
and Miseries heap without ending   

First, have a care of the Lady precise,  
who exclaims against Drinking and Roaring,  
That privately turns up the Whites of her Eyes  
and in public abominates Whoring  
But if you Coach her a mile out of Town  
and quote her but Solomon's Uices;  
With a slight trip you may tumble her down,  
though seeming she modestly nice is.   

Let no City-Girl your Freedom beguile,  
she'll cheat you with modest behaviour,  
Who sits like a Rabbit trust up for to boil,  
and swears she's a Maid by her Saviour:  
But if you cunningly manage your Plot,  
you'll quickly be admitted under;  
Her coy behaviour will soon be forgot,  
she'll breathe out her Soul in a slumber.   
 

The Widow avoid where Policy lurks  
pretending to act by her Conscience  
That's black as the Devil and large as a Turks  
she'll tease you to Death with her Nonsense:  
But if you love her and long for a Bout,  
you ne'er must stand mincing the matter,  
Brush her with jollitry briskly about,  
and down with your Breeches and at her.   

Let not the Country wench that is coy,  
insinuate into your favour  
For when she knows what it is to enjoy  
she quickly will change her behaviour:  
Turn an insatiate Miss of the Town,  
to purchase Gallants she'll endeavour;  
Pawn from her Carcase her Paragon Gown  
to maintain the courteous Pleasure.   

But if your Uigor a Wife doth require  
and will not admit of forbearing;  
Any may serve for to quench your desire,  
there's no Barrel the better Herring.  
When you have tied the true Lover's Knot  
'tis one of the Curses depending  
To Father a brood you never half got,  
without any further contending.   
 

When the Wives brought a Bed, lest the Cuckoo grow in  
the Midwife she makes an Oration  
And cries the poor Infant is so like the Dad  
'tis worthy of your Observation;  
Whilst the good Woman is pleased in her heart  
to hear them so Err in their chatting,  
Knowing her Husband and she was apart  
when Bully, the Boy was a getting.   

Now how to avoid so heavy a Curse,  
I do like a Brother advise ye,  
Never to take her for better for worse,  
if you do, by my troth you're a Nisey,  
For you without may get her consent  
and ne'er make half that Pother  
Then when she's false, or her Portion is spent  
you may change and make choice of another.    

LONDON.  
Printed for I. Back, at the Black Boy near Drawbridge on London-Bridge.