THE Insinuating Bawd: AND THE Repenting Harlot.  
Written by a Whore at Tunbridge, and Dedicated to a Bawd at the Bath.  
LONDON Printed, and are Sold by most Booksellors.   

Books Printed and Sold by J. How, in the Ram-Head-Inn-Yard in Fenchurch-Street; and by M. Fabian, at Mercers-Chappel.  

1. SOt's Paradise: Or the Humours of a Derby-Ale-House: With a satire upon the Ale. Price Six Pence.  
2. A Trip to Jamaica: With a True Character of the People and Island Price Six Pence.  
3. Ecclesia & Factio. A Dialogue between Bow-Steeple-Dragon, and the Exchange-Grashoper. Price Six pence.  
4. The Poet's Ramble after Riches. With Reflections upon a Country Corporation. Also the Author's Lamentation in the time of Adversity. Price Six pence.  
5. A Trip to New-England. With a Character of the Country and People, both English and Indians. Price Six pence.  
6. Modern Religion, & Ancient Loyalty: A Dialogue. Price Six Pence.  
7. The World Bewitched. A Dialogue between two Astrologers and the Author. With Infallible Predictions of what will happen from the Vices and Villainies Practised in Court, City, and Country. Price Six pence.  
8. A Walk to Islington: With a Description of New Tunbridge-Wells, and Sadler's Music-house. Price Six pence.  
9 The Humours of a Coffeehouse: A Comedy. Price Six Pence.  
10. A Frolic to Horn-Fair. With a Walk from Cuckold's-Point through Deptford and Greenwich. Price Six pence.  
11. The Dancing-School. With the Adventures of the Easter-Holy-Days. Price Six pence.  
12. The First Volume of the LONDON-SPY: In Twelve Parts.  
13. The Second Volume of the LONDON-SPY: In Six Parts. Price Six Pence each; or they may be had both Volumes Bound together; and also Bound with the rest of the Authors Writings.  
14. The Metamorphosed Beau, etc.  
15. The English Nun: Or, a Comical Description of a Nunnery. With the Lives and Intrigues of the Priests and Nuns. Price Six Pence.  
16. Laugh and be Fat: Or, an Antidote against Melancholy. Containing great variety of Comical Intrigues in Town and Country. To which is added Nine Delightful Tales. Price One Shilling.  
17. A Step to the Bath: With a Character of the Place. Price Six Pence.  
18. Labour in Vain: Or, what Signifies Little or Nothing, viz. I. The Poor Man's Petition at Court. II. Expectation of Benefit from a Covetous Man in his Life time. III. The Marriage of an Old Man to a Young Woman. IV. Endeavours to Regulate men's Manners by Preaching or Writing. V Being a Jacobite. VI Confining an Insolvent Debtor. VII. Promise of Secrecy in a Conspiracy. VIII. An Enquiry after a Place.    

THE Repenting Harlot TO THE Insinuating Bawd.  
Most Hypocritical Beldame!  
SURE nothing but the Vilest Complication of all manner of Devilism, could have Acted a Judas' part with so much subtlety, for the Lucre of a few base Pence, as your abominable self, thou Hodge Podge of all Wickedness; in deluding a poor Innocent Creature, by the bewitching Sorcery of your Insinuating Tongue, to satisfy the Lust of an Ingrateful Sinner, to her whole Life's Misery.  
I am Pleased with nothing in this World, but to hear the Venereal Remains of your Juvenal Debauches, have sent you Packing to the Bath, to there Parboil your filthy Carcase, with a Vain hope of Repairing your Rotten Limbs, which I believe the best Preserver of Humane Bodies, is unable to keep Alive from Stinking. Some Cripples I have heard, have been so perfectly restored to their Healthful Abilities by the Bath, as to leave their Crutches behind'em: But I question not, if there be any Justice in Hot Water towards thee, the most Infamous of Sinners: If you leave any thing behind you, 'twill be your Nose, or your Shinbones, in order to Punish you, for those Ills which you have not been Contented to Practice yourself, but to draw Innocence into.  
The Sufferings and Sorrows I now Labour under, are all owing to your Confounded Ladyship, and your Ecstasies of Joy with a Pox to 'em, (for so I've found 'em) have struck up such an unextinguishable Fire in my most Pleasurable Apartment, that I fear its past the Power of Tunbridge Waters, Aqua-Tetrachimagogon, or the Pickadilly Engineer, to stop the Flames from consuming the whole miserable Tenement.  
My Sinful Life, which was at first owing to yourself, has brought me Early under Affliction; and that Affliction, I thank Providence, to an Early Repentance: But if I cannot become a sincere Penitent, without forgiving you, my Unpardonable Enemy, who first seduced me into a State of Corruption, I shall certainly hazard my Salvation, upon a breach of that part of Christianity; and Dye with as much Malice towards thee, the betrayer of my Innocence, as ever did poor Jacobite Plotter bear to a Confederate, who first drew him into the Design, and afterwards, to save his own Life, hanged him upon his Evidence.  
Under a Serious Reflection, on my miserable Condition at Tunbridge: I writ the following Poem, which I have Dedicated to your Sinful self, to Remind you of your past Wickedness; and to Caution Young Ignorant Creatures, how they are Deluded by such Insinuating Beldames, such Kidnappers of Virginity, into the like unhappiness: So Wishing you may Die in a Ditch, and Rot like a Dead Horse, that the Boys may make Catsticks of your Leg Bones, and Raiser's of your Ribs, to Play at Trap Ball with, in the Bartholomew holidays, I Remain a Miserable Wretch, and your Bitter Enemy till Death.  
D. B.   

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 myself was Good:  
Unsullied Pleasures in my Bosom dwelled,  
My Peaceful Soul no Headstrong Passion felt:  
No Shame pursued, or, did my Mind Affright;  
But every Hour administered Delight:  
Blessed as th' Aspiring Angels, e'er they Fell;  
The World seemed Heaven, for I knew not Hell.  
No Pride or Lust, my Virgin Brightness Stained,  
Or Vicious Thoughts my Virtuous Will Profaned:  
My Looks and Actions Artless did appear;  
Tho' each Obliged, yet both Unstudied were;  
Without Design, all Innocent and Free;  
I knew no Sin, and could no Curse foresee.  
My Beauty and Deportment were approved,  
By th' Old Applauded, by the Young Beloved.  
Thus was my Youth by Virtue's Charms inspired,  
By all Respected, and by most Admired;  
Proud was the Man, and Blest the Happy He,  
That could obtain one minutes Company;  
Which then to the false Sex I could impart,  
And feel no Feverish Throbing in my Heart.  
Talk of Chaste Love, and raise no ill Desire,  
Toy without Kindling up a Lustful Fire;  
Can Wander without Fear from Field to Grove,  
And think of nothing but the Name of Love:  
Yet found my Sweeter Innocence supplied  
The want of Joys my Tender years denied.  
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 than my own Base Sex seduced 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 towards Man.   

Madam, Since Heaven so largely has bestowed  
On you those Blessings, but to few allowed▪  
And now your Charms, in Nature's Law's Untaught,  
Are by Ripe Years to full Perfection brought;  
'Tis to the Donor sure a great abuse,  
When grown Mature, to keep 'em back from Use:  
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 Use Conceal,  
You're doubtless Guilty of as great an iii.  
Beauty, like Money, 's made to be Employed;  
And not by Age to molter Vn-enjoyed:  
For it were, where would the difference be,  
Betwixt the Fairest, and the Homely'st She?  
The soft Young Damsel, with her Magic Eyes,  
And all the Charms Dame Nature can Devise,  
If she but Tempts to what must be Denied,  
Imprisons Beauty by a Senseless Pride;  
The Dowdy's far more Blest, that freely is Enjoyed.  
For Niggard's, tho' Possessed with useless Store,  
Through Wilful wants, Live Poorer than the Poor:  
Consider, Child, what Pity it would be,  
That Fruit like yours, should Whither on the Tree:  
Those Ruby Cheeks, that look so Fresh and Gay,  
Will in short time, if not Enjoyed, Decay.  
That warm Complexion, that preserves the Grace  
Of each soft Feature in your Lovely Face,  
Will Sickly grow, and Fade in spite 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 Adorned,  
Are into Yellow Fading Tulips turned;  
Her Limbs, that with such Air and Freedom moved,  
Are Lazy grown, unfit to be Beloved:  
Her depraved Stomach does for nothing Call,  
But Cinders, Oatmeal, ' Baccopipes, and Wall:  
Her Blood's Corrupted, and her Breathes grown Short;  
And all for want of Love's Salubrious Sport.  
Therefore, Dear Madam, don't Repent too Late,  
That you are fallen beneath Lucinda's Fate;  
B●●●●se the happy means that may prevent  
Those Ills occasioned 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 Ecstasy so great,  
What now you Fear, you'll Study to Repeat.  
The Unexperienced Nymph that's Chaste and Fair,  
Does but the Fetters of Blind ignorance wear;  
Whilst she that's Wise, dissolves the feeble Chain,  
By Venturing 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 Blessed degree,  
What's sure so Pleasant, cannot Sinful be;  
And yet methinks, who'd Heavens Laws Control,  
Were it not Pleasure that beguiled 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 Betrayed.  
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 welcome Fever in my Heart:  
My Soul Divided, struggles hard within;  
Betwixt the Hopes of Joy, and Fear of Sin:  
A warm Desire through every Fiber glides;  
Something I want, which something else forbids,  
What 'tis you've made me Covet to Possess,  
Dear Madam tell me, for I cannot guests.   

With Looks disordered, I approached 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 Natural 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 Virgin's Hope, the Wife's Delight,  
The Business of the Day, the Bliss of Night.  
It begets Friendship, puts an end to Strife,  
Is the Blessed 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,  
Hugged 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 Lies, to be Believed;  
And Fawn, and Flatter, till h'has one Deceived:  
But when h'has gained his End, inclined to Rove,  
Slights what he Vowed he could for Ages Love.  
And leaves the Sighing Wretch he has betrayed,  
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 Tie, 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, Jealousy, and Doubt, Improve the Bliss;  
The Pleasure's Lost, when Chains have made you his.  
Our Sex too often has Confessed, 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 Oil.  
Therefore in Love, if you would happy be,  
Keep, whilst you're Youthful, Unconfined and Free:  
And if your weary Confident should Range,  
The Bonds are Void, and you yourself may change:  
Your Love, whenever your Gallant has Erred,  
May to another justly be Transferred:  
But if in Wedlock's 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 Slavery drawn;  
Through Fear, not Love, upon her Tyrant Fawn.  
Thus must you Study (tho' Oppressed) to Please,  
All other means are worse than the Disease.  
Marriage, as used, is but a Woman's 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 tired with Old ones, change 'em still for New.  
But if you're Married, you're at once undone,  
And made a despicable Slave to one;  
Your Actions all, are Watched 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 yourself 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 every hour;  
Hero's themselves will yield to Beauty's Pleasing Power.   

Nature b'ing Headstrong, and my Virtue Weak,  
Methoughts, I could for ever hear her Speak;  
I fond of Joy, and Pleased 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 every Vein with willing Warmth inspired,  
To Play it's part in what the whole desired;  
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 Pretty, and so Fine;  
Is so Obliging, Complisant and Free;  
Dances, and Hums about so Prettily:  
What would I Give, or what but I would do,  
Can 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 Complete 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 Pretty 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 Pricked his Breast with such a Dart,  
He'd give ten thousand Worlds to gain your Heart.  
When I've but named you, he has seemed so glad;  
Towards you such kind and pretty things has said,  
Sighed, Stretched, and Vowed, he always could adore;  
And still Enjoy, yet still Love more and more:  
Had you been by, you could have done no less,  
Than Yielded what he Covets to Possess:  
Against such Force, no Virtue could maintain  
Its Ground, Oh, he's a wondrous pretty Man!   

This false Suggestion, set me all on Fire;  
And turned 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 inclined 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 Heaven 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 Loath to miss,  
What false Report had rendered such a Bliss:  
But with my best Attire, my Charms improved,  
Fed with vain hopes of b'ing the more beloved;  
Wash, Powder, Patches, all th' alluring Arts,  
Practised by Ladies to ensnare men's 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 Infects fly to Flames which they should shun,  
And fond of Light, are by the Fire undone;  
When dressed, some Checks within my Soul I found,  
But flowing Vice, the Guardian Angel drowned:  
A Storm of Lust had so enraged my Blood,  
Alas, I could not Listen to my Good.  
When thus Equipped, we made our next approach,  
To the Street Door, and beckoned to a Coach.  
My base Conductress did Directions give,  
And bid the Churl, to th' inward Temple drive;  
Where Lived my unknown Love, so Gay and Fine,  
Before made Privy to the Cursed design:  
When I alas, to th' Sinful Mansion came;  
My Pulse beat high, my Cheeks were Died with Shame:  
She knocked, and such an Angel let us in,  
Whose outside out-shone all I'd ever seen:  
His Gown with Red, Blue, Yellow Stripes was crossed,  
Gaudy as Flame in a hard Winter's Frost;  
Clad in the Morning trappings of a Bean;  
He Bowed, and Cringed, and made a Lovely show:  
His Lips as soft as Leaves of Roses felt,  
His Breath, like an Arabian Garden Smelled.  
From his kind Tongue all Love and Sweetness flowed,  
And every gentle touch his hand bestowed,  
Made a strange Ebolition in my Blood.  
He brought forth Sack, and Drank, but I denied,  
Till begging he prevailed, and I Complied.  
Thus Entered, the Procuress took her Leave;  
That she'd return, did an Assurance give;  
Feigned business, and entreated me to stay,  
Whilst she dispatched Affairs some other way:  
Rid of her Presence, he began his Court;  
Hugged me, and Kissed me, till my Breath grew short;  
Called me Fair Angel, and his Charming Saint,  
Smothered 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 struggled; but half Dead,  
With his strong Arms, he tossed me on his Bed;  
Where o'er his Victim he Triumphant got,  
And did 'twixt Pain and Pleasure, Heaven knows what:  
When thus Corrupted with the first Delight,  
He then persuaded me to stay all Night,  
I yielded, but the false seducing Dame▪  
Regardless of her Treacherous word ne'er came;  
At first he proved all Love; I too was kind,  
Expecting still more Joys than I could find:  
But when few hours was spent, he turned his Back,  
And grew, methoughts, Cold, Negligent, and Slack:  
I called him dear, but could not make him Speak;  
I Hugged him, Tugged 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 ashamed arose, and Weeping went away.  
I Vex●d●and Angry to be thus Misused,  
Though as I found, I'd been by both abused;  
Discovering, when too late, the Jilting Dame  
Sold me to quench the Lecher's Lustful Flame:  
And went wi'th ' Judas Pence, she'd basely gained  
To th' Bath, to have her Rotten Corpse new cleaned;  
There Stew her Crazy Limbs, with a Vain thought  
Of Curing Pains her Youthful Sins begot.   

When entered thus, I th' tempting Vice pursued,  
And from my first Corruption grew more Lewd;  
Till by Promiscuous use, I found in th' end,  
The Sourest Pains, the Sweetest Sins attend:  
Such Poisonous Ulcers did my Crimes ensue;  
I nauseous to myself and others grew:  
Thus were my Pleasures punished with a Curse;  
No Leprosy of Job, could sure be worse;  
My Blood did into Loathsome Issues melt;  
The parts that Sinned the most, most Torment felt.  
Beneath these Miseries, I to Tunbridge went,  
Backward to Die, but willing to Repent;  
In hopes the cooling Waters would have eased,  
Or quenched those Fires, my stubborn Lust had raised.  
But when I found the Wells yield no Relief,  
My hopes were turned into Despair, and Grief.  
I then reflecting on my wretched State,  
In Tears, did with myself thus Ruminate:  
Alas what am I! whither am I strayed?  
By Lust and Pride, from Virtues Paths miss:  
What shameful shadows of my Gild draw near?  
How Black and Monstrous, 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 looked 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 Misery;  
When every Eye my spotless Charms admired,  
Enjoying all my Virtuous Life required?  
Where are the Flatterers, that my Love pursued,  
And would have given 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 itself defend,  
And make ill-natured Envy prove its Friend:  
Bright Innocence, thou Blessed and Charming Dove,  
Whom every 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 Upperhand,  
And made me Servile to its base Command:  
O that I'd been but some poor Bargeman's Wife,  
To've Lugged and Tugged, at the great Oar for Life:  
Or what is worse, had been a Butchers Spouse,  
To've Mended nitty Coats, and stinking Hose;  
For one Days Living, to have two Days Starved,  
So that my Health and Virtue, I'd preserved;  
I'd been more happy than the fairest she,  
That L 〈…〉 Liberty.  
Curse on the Female Tongue, that drew me in;  
And for base Lucre, Taught me first to Sin:  
May her Nose fall, her Reins and Shinbones Rot,  
And begging without pity 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 bribed her to seduce  
Me Wretched Creature, to his Beastly Use,  
Be Doomed 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 Lose Women Tempt you to the Hook,  
With which themselves unwarily were took;  
For if you're once betrayed, you'll surely find,  
You're Cursed from the first moment you are Kind.   
FINIS.