Chapter 2

_Answer to the Fifteenth Mock Comfort._

A Peevish Husband makes a peevish Wife, And so brings Scandal on a Married Life. No wonder then if Sickness and Disease, Brought on by Crosses, doth the Body seize. All this is owing to a hair-brain'd Man, Whose base ill nature all the strife began. Then why shou'd Women thus be stil'd a Curse? When Man himself perhaps is ten times worse. Perhaps you'll say this is proposterous, In blaming others I my self expose. I Answer thus, if it was not for shame, I'd this same Minute quite disown the Name. For Men like you, their Names do sound no more, Than if you call'd an Honest Woman Whore.

FINIS.

* * * * *

ADVERTISEMENT.

At the _Pastry-School_, over against the _Compter_ in _Shovel-Ally_ in _Wood-street_, near _Cheapside_; is Sold, a never failing Oyntment that Cures the _GOUT_, altho the Party be reduced to his Crutches,and that in two or three Days time; having often been found True by Experience, to the great Ease and Comfort of many: It also Cures _Rheumatick_ Pains. Likewise a Cure for the _Tooth-Ach_, which Infallibly Cures without Drawing.

* * * * *

The Fifteen COMFORTS of Whoring,

OR,

_The Pleasures of a Town-Life._

Dedicated to the Youth of the present Age.

_By the Author of the Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony._

LONDON Printed in the YEAR, 1706.

The PREFACE.

_I am in a little pain lest the Title shou'd give Offence to some, whom I am unwilling to disoblige; yet I hope be more Judicious, when they see the design will allow it both their Pardon and Approbation: for 'tis more than a little odds, had I call'd it the Fifteen Plagues of Whoring, whether the young Gentlemen most concerned in it, would have given themselves the trouble to peruse it. As they are Children in their Actions, they must be dealt with like Children, and have their Horn-books Gi[*?]ou the back. This is all the Apology I have to make; which I hope the Moral will explain, and supply all else that might be said upon that Head. Among all other Debaucheries, as the principal, and leading Vice, I shall begin with Whoring._

The Fifteen Comforts of Whoring

_The First Comfort of Whoring._

No sooner Youth throws off his Infant Plays, The harmless Pastime of his happier Days But past a Child, is still in Judgement so, And studies first what he is not to know, Pleasure and Sence his easie Soul entice, Spurr'd forward by his Native Love to Vice: A Mistress now his Fancy entertains, And Youthful Vigour boils within his Brains. The poor lost Maid he do's with Oaths intice; And loads his Soul with twenty Thousand Lyes; Promises Marriage, Love, a hundred things, Till both himself and her, he to destruction brings. At length he finds his falsity repaid, And draws the Curse of Heaven on his Head.

_The Second Comfort of Whoring._

By this some Lewder Harlot is Carrest, Who plays the Tyrant in his Am'rous Breast; The Charming Syren touches e'ery String, To keep his busie Fancy on the Wing; All by her whiles, she binds her Captive fast, Sooths him at first, and bubbles him at last. To feed her Pride, clandestine means he'll take, Rob Friends, or Master; for the Harlot's sake, Still to the greatest Ill's he do's descend, And Ruin only; Ruin Seals his End.

_The Third Pleasure of a Town Life._

What Nature has not done, a Harlot will, (For sure Destruction is her boasted Skill: One Scarce to the full Bloom of Life attain'd, Before of Cramps and Aches he complains, Curses the Jilt--looks pale and wan withal: Wither'd like Fruit by their untimely fall, Go's thro' a hated Course of nauseous Pills, And spends a little thousand Pocky Bills: Perhaps at length he do's get free from pain, But the Effects on't all his Life remain.

_The Fourth Pleasure of a Town Life._

Another hardly does escape so well, From Purgatory he drops into Hell; Where like a branded Sacrifice he comes, And in the Flame the Harlot lit, consumes: Of Buboes, Nodes, and Ulcers he complains, Of Restless Days, and damn'd nocturnal Pains. Nor less than into six Weeks Flux he goes: Comes out a Shadow, pale and Meagre shews, If Heaven spare that Ornament his Nose: Thus all his Youthful Vigor's threwn away, And e're his time he dwindles to decay.

_The Fifth Comfort of a Town Life._

This married, settled in the Joys of Life, A handsom Trade, and an endearing Wife; Does yet a mind incontinent betray, And for a Night of Pleasure dearly pay: Having received a Favour from his Miss, He kindly gives it to a Friend of his: The Wife, (for that the Marriage Rites say still) Must bear a part both of the Good or Ill. She finds what pity 'tis she e'er had known, Since for no Crime, nor Pleasure of her own, Reveals it to him, knowing not at first, What might the Cause be--tho' she fear'd the worst. He strives to pacifie her twenty ways Blushes--or wou'd do if he'd any Grace. Tells Her the truth in Penetential strain, And vows he'll never do the like again, She weeps, forgives him all--but must endure, The manner, and the Charges of a Cure; Where One in twenty scarce so perfect be, But that they leave it to Posterity.

_The Sixth Comfort of a Town Life._

Or where they 'scape the plagues of _Pox_ and _Pills_, The Sin is liable to fifty Ills, Of equal Danger, tho' a diff'rent Cure, As he that dreading Claps wou'd Sin secure; For soon the pliant Wretch he has beguil'd Hath to his Charge and wonder prove with Child: At which, 'tmay properly be said a Man, Leaps from the Fire to the Frying-pan, This for his Reputation sake must be reveal'd When Claps are only as a Jest reveal'd She's now Remov'd--Deliver'd--and the Nurse; Comes thick and threefold to Exhaust his Purse; A blessed Life that woful Mortal bears, With _Nurse_ and _Child_, and _Mother_ in his Ears. Arm'd with a Thousand things that must be had, Till they have drein'd him poor and made him mad: What better (had he been convin'd before,) He had Transgress'd with some Obedient Whore.

_The Seventh Pleasure of a Town Life._

Another that he may his Joys secure, Turns _Limbetham_ and keep some Gaudy whore, Thinks her his own--when Satan knows her his mind, Is like her Body not to be confin'd, As constant as the Moon, she plays her part, And like a Viper preys upon his Heart: Draws him so poor, till like her Slaves, Which she bestows on some smart Fop she loves, For this is with 'em a perpetual Rule, They never Love the Person that they fool, This he perceives not till it is too late, Till Ruined in his Person and Estate. And then good Night, when all his money's gone, Miss leaves him too, to ply about the Town.

_The Eighth Pleasure of a Town Life._

But above all--if't be within thy Power, Oh Fate! to Curse me any mortal more, Let him be him that does so wretched prove, To be with some Intriging Jilt in Love: Nay, tho' in part to mollifie his pain, We'll say the Harlot chance to Love again? I mean such Love as Lewdness can impart, Bred in the Blood--but never in the Heart. With softning presents he would Cure her mind, To him, and only to him, to be Kind. But were the _Indies_ all within his Pow'r To give, he would but lavish all his Store, He might confine the Sea, as soon as her. What then (since Love no Rival will submit) Must he indure that with this plague do's meet: When every Thought is Death and Discontent To know, what he wants power to prevent, The case can only this conclusion have, He's twice more wretched than a Galley-slave.

_The Ninth Pleasure of a Town Life._

This has some Jilt for a long time sustain'd, Who has Imperious o'er his Pocket reign'd; At length grown weary of so loose a Life, Or for some other Cause, he takes a wife: The Jilt now like a Fury flings and tears, Ten thousand Oaths to be reveng'd she swears: Threatens to come before his very Door, For Whores are plagues that never give you o'er: _There in the open Street to act the Scene, And let the World know what a Spark he's been: This; may be some fair promises prevents, If constantly attended with the pence; For Whores and Fidlers this one Rule advance, Of old; no longer Pipe, no longer Dance. But if the Promis'd Pension he withdraws, The Fury then again Exerts her Claws: Thus he a charge, continual intails, Besides the Curse, the Noise, and all things else;_

The Tenth Pleasure of a Town Life,

_Another Harlot works by various means, And acts a Jilt's true part behind the Scenes, [*?]nds the kind Bubble of a pliant Size, And Spreads a subtle Net to catch her Prize, With greater ease to drive him in the same, She first obtains his Residence, and Name, Two useful Perquisites for her design; The Shallow Easie Fop to undermine; A Mesiage next she sends to let him know, Convey'd by some such useful Rogue as R----w; That she's with Child--and by the Love she bore, It must be him--for she was never so before. Which he with wonderful Surprize receives, And for the present some few Guineas gives, Thus he's impos'd on by a wretched Cheat, And er'e he finds it out; pays dearly for his Wit._

The Eleventh Pleasure of a Town Life.

_Nor this alone Debauch'ry comprehends, The forward Age to other vice descends, And Youth e're he'as attain'd good Sence to think, Addicts himself with Pride, to swear and drink: [*?]'s Rules Immoral from Example take, And e're he's turn'd of fifteen, turns a Rake: [*?]ots in Sin--(nothing that's Lewd shall scape And on his Virgin Health commits a Rape, Forsaking Reason--grows to Vice a Slave, And e'r he's Thirty drops into his Grave._

The Twelfth Plague of a Town Life,

_Another has a better Progress made, And binds himself Apprentice to the Trade; A parboyl'd Sot, without one Spark of Grace, Whose nightly Sins are number'd on his Face: Which with the Rags upon his back make out, The very Arms and Ensigns of a Sot: Who like a Rat into Some Corner goes, And dies Unpittied both by Friends and Foes._

The Thirteenth Pleasure of a Town Life.

_What do's that Man deserve? to whom his Fate; Has given an ample Stock or an Estate? (That has, perhaps, besides a tender Wife; Yet into Riot and Excess do's fall, And in debauchery consumes it all? And to his Sure Destruction makes such hast; He do's in Body, with his Substance waste: Lives till he want what he had misemply'd And is like one that God had curs'd, Destroy'd._

The Fourteenth Pleasure of a Town Life.

_But say that this a Constitution has, Firm and unshaken as a pile of Brass Yet who'd Endure the Palsies, aching Heads? The pains, the Qualms, that nightly Drinking breeds? Perpetual disorder draggs him on, Business Neglected, and himself Undone, A Wretched Life he spends till threescore Years, And then the Fruits of Drunkeness appears._

The Fifteenth Pleasure of a Town Life.

Satyr and couculde--and sum the Evils up, Shew the great wonder how the Land shou'd 'scape, From Fires, Famines, Pestilence and Rage, To crush so vile, so proffligate an Age? For let the Church be Empty as it will, You'll see the Play-house, and the Taverns fill: Whole Afternoons, whole Nights they'll Squander there, Yet can't Spare one poor Minute on't for Pray'r, This is the Sum of a Licentious Town, Where Lewdness is into Example grown.

FINIS.

* * * * *

THE Fifteen Comforts OF Cuckoldom.

_Written by a noted Cuckold in the_ New-Exchange _in the_ Strand.

Printed in the Year 1706.

To the Reader.

_The Town being diverted of late with a great many Comforts, several of the Gentlemen and others of the cornuted Society belonging to _Horn-Fair_ not thinking those Comforts compleat without them of Cuckoldom, they requested me to undertake the Performance thereof, as having had some experience for many Years in Wives cokesing their Husbands in the very Moment they design'd to put a pair of Antlers on their Heads for fear of being gor'd by their Neighbours; whilst other good Wives are as often Picking their Husband's Pockets to pay now and then for a By-Blow: I have experienced those kind Wives too who are commonly upon the religious Point of going to Lectures when alas they had no other Business at Church than to meet their Gallants, who presently coaches 'em, because they dearly love Jilting. But for Brevity passing the several Dispositions of Men's Wives, as such as are Melancholly many Times for a Delay or Defeat, whilst others are preparing to make their Markets at the Play-house or Spring-Garden; or else to the Bath, when Bathing is the least part of their Errand, I shall draw to the Comforts which we enjoy by our Wives good Nature to others, which to their Fancies is sweet as Muskadine and Eggs._

The Fifteen Comforts, &c.

_The first Comfort of Cuckoldom._

As I last Night in Bed lay Snoring, I sweetly dreamt of Drinking and of Whoring, Which waking me from a most pleasant Sleep, To my dear Wife I very close did creep, And offering to give her what I shou'd, Quoth she, you Fumbler you can do no good, Give me the Man that never claps his Wings, But always Life and Courage with him brings, 'Tis such an one wou'd please; but as for you If Night and Morning some small matter do; You think you've done your due Benevolence, When I with thrice your Labour can dispence. This Reprimand my Courage soon did cool, And fearing Combing with a Three-Legg'd-Stool; I very fairly went to sleep again, And left her of my Manhood to complain.

_The Second Comfort of Cuckoldom._

No sooner had I chang'd my single Life, And had confin'd my Carcass to a Wife; But she was always Gadding up and down, To take the various Pleasures of the Town; Howe're I only reckon'd this to be, The airy Frisks of her Minority, Till shortly finding and old Hag wou'd pay Her Visits oft, and take her Day by Day [*?]oad, indeed this gave me some Mistrust, That this old weather beaten Devil must Be some Procurer, and resolv'd to watch Their Waters, where shoul'd I the Bitches catch, But in a Bowdy-house in _Milford-lane_? So going in a Passion home again, At twelve at Night my Doxie likewise came, Whom I in mod'rate Terms began to blame; Telling her that old Witch with whom she went, Abroad a Days by Rogues was only sent About to Wheedle young and tender Maids To Ruine, till they turned common Jades. _You Lie_, reply'd my hopeful graceless Dear, _I'll have you know, I'll never sin in fear, Besides for she of whom you think, Amiss, That sweet obliging Gentlewoman is A tender-hearted Bawd that ne'er made Whore, But ever us'd such as were broke before._ Now finding her so bad at Seventeen, Thinks I by that time she has Thirty seen, She'll be a Whore in Grain; but by good hap, She dy'd within a year of Pox and Clap.

_The third Comfort of Cuckoldom._

It was my Fortune to be joyn'd to one, As pretty as was shined on by the Sun; For on my word her Eyes were full and gray, With ruddy Lips, round Cheeks, her Forehead lay Archt like a snowie Bank, which did uphold Her natvie Tresses, that did shine like Gold; Her azure Veins, which with a well sharp'd Nose, Her whiter Neck, broad Shoulders to compose: A slender Waste, a Body strait and Tall, With Swan-like Breasts, long Hands, and Fingers small, Her Ivory Knees, her Legs were neat and clean, A Swelling Calf, with Ancles round and lean, Her Insteps thin, short Heels, with even Toes, A Sole most strait, proportion'd Feet, she goes With modest Grace; but yet her Company, Did not a Month enjoy, before that I Was Prest for Sea, and being on the Main, For thirty Months I then return'd again, Where finding in my absence that my Wife Three brats had got, a most unchaste Life Both Day and Night I led the lech'rous Whore; Who seeing how I Curst, and Bann'd, and Swore, A Bag or two she shew'd me cramn'd with Gold, Which Treasure I no sooner did behold, But then I Kist my loving Wife and leapt, For very Gladness that my Horns were Tipt.

_The fourth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

Above a Year or two I always thought My Wife so good that she cou'd not be naught, Till one Night coming home I caught a Spark Sat in my Parlor by her in the Dark, In mighty Pet I call'd for Candles strait, Doubting that I poor Fool was come too late: T'avert the Burthen which is made to grow On such who enters into Cuckolds Row. Hower'e as I was thinking of the best, And as I nothing saw contented rest, My am'rous Wife's Gallant, before he went, Did shew enough t'encrease my Discontent For he wou'd slily pull her Petticoat, Nod, Wink, and put into her Hand a Note, Whisper her in the Ear, or touch her Foot With many other private Signs to boot, All which confirm'd my Jealousie the more, And made me think 'em to be Rogue and Whore, But as I knew my Wife a bawling Slut, My Horns into my Pocket did I put For Quietness, which yet I seldom had, So I thro' Cuckoldom run really Mad.

_The fifth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

When I poor I unto a Wife was bound, I wish I had been Bury'd under Ground, For to my Grief I found her both before And after Marriage too to be a Whore. But when I found the Beast of such a Breed, I soldier turn'd, and with a Baw'd agreed To let her out at half a Crown a Week Who undertook she shou'd not be too seek; For Custom, but said, she must for her pains, From th' insatiate Whore have double Gains.

_The Sixth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

Finding my Wife by Whoring nothing get, But to maintain her Sparks ran me in Debt; Her Whoring gratis made me really vext, So Shop I shut, and fled to _Holland_ next.

_The Seventh Comfort of Cuckoldom._

While I was but into the Country gone, To give some Chapmen there the gentle Dun Mean time a Rubbers she with some had play'd, And in the Powd'ring Tub was quickly laid, Unknown to me, and had been secret still, But that the Surgeon bringing in his Bill When I came Home, the Murder so came out, And still my Wife is Whore enough I doubt.

_The Eighth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

A sordid Lecher coming very old To tempt my Spouse with Silver and with Gold, She told me of't, and said, she cou'd not fawn, On him, or's Gold, to lay her Soul in pawn. By this I thought her Honest, till my maid Inform'd me shortly what Lew'd Tricks she play I Twitted then my Wife's Hypocrisie, Who Impudently did Reply to me; Old Flesh she Loath'd, as having in it left No Gravy, and of all it's Juice bereft, But if the Flesh was Young and to her mind, She'd to one Dish would never be confin'd.

_The Ninth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

By my Dear Wife, in turning up her Tail To bear the Threshing of her Gallant's Frail, A Groat (which always is a Cuckold's Fee) Under the Candlestick I've laid for me; Besides good Peck and Booze, so till she's Dead, She may and will Whore on to get me Bread.

_The Tenth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

As Strangers flatter'd with deceitful Snow, Fall in a Deadly Pit they do not know, So was I hamper'd in a Marriage Noose, In Marrying one that did frequent the Stews, As well as Cuckold me at Home; but she Transacting Whoredom with great Secresie Like other Neighbours, to avoid the Name Of Cuckold, I as private hid her shame.

_The Eleventh Comfort of Cuckoldom._

When I found Cuckolds to Encrease apace, I Marry'd one with such an Ugly Face That one wou'd thought the Devil wou'd but grotch So foul a Figure as my Wife to touch; Yet being at a Friendly Club one Night, A Raskal came and Cuckol'd me for spight.

_The Twelfth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

What signifies a Man to fret and fume, Till Grief and Sorrow makes his Flesh consume Because his Wife in Actions may be light And to his Face will horn him Day and Night; This Comfort may alleviate his Woe, That Cuckold's without doubt to Heaven go.

_The Thirteenth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

If it's my Fate (I oftentimes would cry) To have a Wife that will play wantonly, I soon wou'd tame her, or at least I shou'd Be Hang'd for her but I wou'd make her good. But faith it is my Luck to light upon Such Ware, that will a _Caterwoulling_ run, And cannot help it, for to have her full Of sport, she's run away a Soldiers Trull.

_The Fourteenth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

When at _Horn-Fair_ I see how ev'ry Year Whole droves of Cuckold's thither do appear The very sight thereof wou'd make one swear That none but Cuckolds in the Nation were; Especially if those who are not known, For Cuckolds too the Title wou'd but own, And such as are not summon'd would appear, In those Accoutrements we ought to wear, Which are our Horns, a Pick Axe and a Spade, That Paths may for our Wives be even laid.

_The Fifteenth Comfort of Cuckledom._

If that our wives will tick their Souls on Sin, Tis vain to make about their Ears a din, For that exasperates their will the more, And where in private may in publick Whore; So then the Scandal coming to all Ears, Each Neighbour will not only fling his Jeers Upon us, but the Boys will hoot it too, And point their Fingers at us where we go, As if we were not come of human Blood, Because they do perceive we've Horns to bud; But to avoid so base and curst a Life, The only way's to Live without a wife.

FINIS.