THE FEMALE FIRE-SHIPS. A Satyr against Whoring.
WElcom to
Town thou most esteem'd of
Friends,
Welcom as Rain, which on parcht Earth descends;
Thou
Dear Companion of my vacant Hours,
How oft did we on
Isis Banks Discourse?
When we together led a
College Life,
Till I assum'd that Settlement a Wife:
Yet thy
Amintor's not Uxorious grown,
Nor will he for the
Wife, the
Friend disown.
[Page 2] He loves his
Strephon, with a Flame as strong
As Death, yet will not his
Dorinda wrong;
Tho' learn'd thou art as
Athens was of old,
And canst all
Natures Mysteries unfold:
Yet to my
Strephon's mind are still unknown,
The Rules of Living in this wicked
Town:
Here are a thousand Traps, ten thousand Snares,
Which
Vice for
unexperienc'd Youth prepares▪
Unknown, unheard of, in those Shady Groves,
Where
Nymphs and
Shepherds joyntly tell their
Loves.
Permit me then t'expose one sort of
Vice,
And show the danger of the
Precipice;
Which may in you create a fixt abhorring,
Of that so
fashionable Mode, call'd
Whoring.
Methinks at naming of the Word you start,
Ah happy Youth—unskilful in such Art;
May you be still unlearned in such Schools;
'Twas the desire to know, first made us Fools:
But lest through inadvertency you run
To those extreams, my
Muse would have you shun;
Suffer my Pen a little to explore,
And show the Arts of
Prostituted Whore.
[Page 3]
VVomen indeed to outward view they seem,
But are their
Sexes scandal, blot and shame;
Like
Angels they may seem in Dress, and meen,
But could you view the frightful
Fiend within,
Who whets their lewd desires, and
eggs them on,
To act those Mischiefs they too oft have done;
Not
Midnight Spectres, nor sad
Scenes of
VVar,
Would half so dreadful to your Sense appear;
Not
Canibals upon the
Indian Coast,
Nor
Desert Shores to Men by Shipwrack tost
Can be so dangerous, as are the Wiles,
The treacherous Kisses, and bewitching Smiles
Of Mercenary Jilts; whose only Trade,
Is daily acting
Love in Masquerade:
True
Canibals, who can with ease devour,
A dozen Men while Time shapes out an Hour.
The Body as gross food they cast away,
And only on the Blood and Marrow prey;
With nice fantastick Appetites they burn,
And nothing but the Spirits serves their turn:
Not Naples, Rome, Messina, Scandaroon,
Nor
Venice the fam'd
Adriatick Town;
Can in each place more
Girls of Pleasure show,
Than
VVhores of all degrees are daily known,
To practise Lewdness in this pious Town;
From the
kept Mistress who resides at Court,
To her who will for
two Pence, act the Sport.
Since then in
VVhoring there are found degrees,
(For there's a kind of Government in Vice)
Let's for a while survey the mighty Bliss,
Attends the keeping
Pentionary Miss,
(A Practice custom has in Credit brought
So far, it hardly is esteem'd a Fault)
If Haughty, when some Overtures you make,
And tell her how you languish for her Sake;
A swinging
Fine by you must first be paid,
And after that some Deeds of Joynture made
Before you must attempt to tast the
Joy,
Which of it self does but too quickly cloy:
When ever you your
Am'rous Visits pay,
Some Present you must leave at going away:
And if her Hum'rous Appetite requires,
Some new Provocatives to languid Fires;
And if she'll swallow Pearl, you must not spare;
Nothing must e're be thought too Good or Rich,
To raise and highten her
Salacious Itch.
If after all this mighty Cost and Pains,
Her Heart were but the total of your Gains,
Repentance would be light: But ah as soon,
You may require fixation from the Moon;
Cause Madam
Cynthia still to have one Face,
And stop the Sun in his Diurnal Race
As make her Constant—tho' She Swears and Vows,
That She her Love to no Man else allows;
That you'r the only Creature She can prize,
Joy of her Heart, and Pleasure of her Eyes,
And if you leave her off, poor Soul, she dies:
Believe her not, for when She tells the Lie,
The
Divels blush to hear the
Perjury:
When just perhaps before those Oaths she swore,
Some
Fav'rite Spark had issued out of Door,
Blest with those Joys, you pay so dearly for.
These
First Rate Whores, if Trade they understand,
Can never sail, unless they are well Man'd.
[Page 6] When for their Favours you so tamely crave,
Whether are you their Keeper, or their Slave?
They scorn to be
Monopoliz'd by one,
No—they are proud to imitate the
Sun,
Who does on meanest things his Beams display,
So every one is Welcom,
if he pay.
But of this tedious constant way of Life,
Which bears so near resemblance to a Wife,
You weary grown, some other Mistress chuse,
And to the former all Supplies refuse:
When you with-draw your
Golden Showers of Grace,
Like a true
Jilt, she'll curse you to your Face:
In vain to Constancy they make pretention,
For loss of
Love still follows loss of
Pension.
If in this
keeping Humour you go on,
And for new Faces ransack all the Town;
Had you the Wealth of
Croesus in your power,
So that your very Thoughts could
wish no more;
Could you bribe Time to let you live an Age,
Still blest with vigorous Heat and Youthful rage;
Could you each Month command a new Embrace,
And Reign Lord Regent, o're the Female Race;
[Page 7] Could you of
Mistresses have such a Store,
That
Solomon compar'd to you was Poor;
Yet you would find that
Jilting, Falshood, Lying,
Counterfeit
Sighs, and
Subtle Arts of
Dying,
Feign'd
Tears, false
Vows, and several Vertues more,
Are Qualities inseparable from the Whore.
Forgive me
Strephon for my rash suppose,
Too well the
Theory of their faults he knows,
And has too much of Learning, Wit and Art,
Ever to dive into the
Practick part:
But whilst to fulsom Complements I fly,
I tax him with Insensibility.
Strephon not Love a
Woman? Is he Man?
And can he from the
Charming Sex refrain?
No—but with Prudence moderates his Passion,
And is not lewd, altho' 'tis grown the Fashion.
Permit me now
Dear Strephon, to relate,
The Tricks and Wiles of Whores of
Second Rate;
The
Play-house Punks, who in a loose Undress,
Each Night receive some
Cullies soft Address;
Reduc'd perhaps to the last poor
half Crown,
A tawdry
Gown and
Petticoat put on,
[Page 8] Go to the House, where they demurely sit
Angling for
Bubbles, in the noisy
Pit:
Not
Turks by
Turbants, Spaniards by their
Hats,
Nor
Quakers by Diminutive
Cravats
Are better known, than is the
Tawdry Crack
By Vizor-Mask, and Rigging on her Back.
The
Play-house is their place of Traffick, where
Nightly they sit, to sell their
Rotten Ware;
Tho' done in silence and without a Cryer,
Yet he that bids the most, is still the Buyer;
For while he nibbles at her
Am'rous Trap,
She gets the
Mony, but he gets the
Clap.
Intrencht in
Vizor Mask they Giggling sit,
And throw designing Looks about the
Pit,
Neglecting wholly what the Actors say,
'Tis their least business there to see the
Play:
But if some
unexperienc'd Youth by chance,
Bestows upon 'em an obliging Glance,
And in his Rustick manner offers Love,
These slow Advances, they know how t'improve;
Like
Stubborn Towns, when first they view the Foe,
Some signs of vigorous Resistance show,
[Page 9] Till prest too hard by their opponent Fate,
Make Terms, and freely then Capitulate.
So
these at first appear too nice and coy,
And scorn the kind pretences of the
Boy;
Laugh loud to show their Wit, and in the Strife,
Act Modesty and Vertue to the Life.
Th'
unthinking Lad more fond by distance grown,
Bears up his Thoughts, and briskly pushes on,
Till they at last contented to comply,
(As overcome by Importunity)
Accept a
Coach (still Maskt and in
Disguise)
Whilst he with his new gotten
Female Prize
To Tavern hastning, where a
Splendid Treat,
Opens his Eyes and quickly shews the Cheat;
Their
Seeming Vertue off with
Mask is thrown,
And they appear
True Women of the Town.
If Dancing, Singing, Swearing, Impudence,
Can make Impressions upon easie sense,
And She, he thought a Goddess just before,
Now proves an
Errant Rampant true bred VVhore:
And in the
Height of VVine, if he's but willing
Will soon unrig her self, for one poor Shilling.
[Page 10] These sights his lustful Fever serve to cure,
Or else like Oyl to Fire, inflame it more;
So doubly flusht with
VVine and Love at last,
Their
fatal Kindness he attempts to tast:
Fatal indeed, but too too often prove,
These stollen snatches of unlawful Love;
Delusions charm his reason for a while,
And ev'ry thing about him seems to smile;
Pleas'd with the
Raptures of his new found
Bliss,
Fancies there is no other
Paradice:
But sober Reason must at last take place,
And he, tho' late, perceives his own disgrace;
For when he lay intranc'd in
Celia's
Lap,
He little thought 'twould terminate in
Clap:
So finds the total Sum of all his gains
Are
Saffold's
Pills, to Cure all sorts of Pains.
Methinks I read a Pity in your Eyes,
While you these
Mercenary Jilts despise;
But tho' I cannot blame your gen'rous Passion,
Yet I shall now inflame your Indignation;
For these may well be thought no
Whores at all,
Compar'd with those which we
Night-Walkers call:
That they may claim
Damnation as their
Due:
For
Witches, who by Contract serve the
Devil,
Were never Instruments of half the evil
Perform'd by these
Nocturnal Privateers,
In the small space of a few
Rolling Years;
These
Pyrates of the
Night no Prizes spare,
From Callow
Youth, to
Age with Silver Hair,
Who greedily the curst occasion snatches,
Board you, and
clap you underneath their
Hatches;
Like
Owls all day they still remain within,
And seldom are until the Twilight seen;
Then with some Fine gay Cloaths took up on
Tally,
To
publick Streets, these lewd
Smock-Vermin Sally;
With such an air of Impudence they tread,
As if in
Hells chief
Boarding School were bred;
Their Eye-balls rolling round from place to place,
Each Man they meet, they stare him in the Face;
If raw and unexperienc'd in the Town
They stop him, and as if to them was known,
Lord! Cozen—(confidently will they say)
I have not seen your Eyes this many'day:
[Page 12] But if he seems surpriz'd, or stand his Guard on,
They then retire—
with Sir I ask your Pardon,
You are so like the Man I took you for,
Not Peas resemble one another more:
Sometimes at this false Bait the
Gudgeons bite,
And to a
Tavern, with these
Birds of Night
Retire, to take one new Acquaintance Pint;
Where if for one half hour they sit and laugh,
We freely may conclude the
De'il was in't,
If he comes off with
Purse and
Codpeice safe.
'Tis not for Pleasure
Nightly thus they trot,
That by long custom they have quite forgot;
Like Men, who their indulgent Palats feast
So long, till they at last quite lose their Taste:
No, 'tis for Mony—Mony is their aim,
For
Love they do not understand the Name.
Let the Gallant
be Blackamoor or
Jew,
Ugly, and of an
Aethiopian Hew;
Deform'd like
Aesop, and as old as
Parr,
If he has
Mony, he's
their only Dear,
Their Love, their Life, their Soul,
their other Half,
Like
Jews they still adore the
Golden Calf:
[Page 13] Yet what's the Profit of their mighty pains,?
And how do they improve their ill-got Gains?
Some
Swearing Bulley runs away with all
The Pence, which did from
Cullies Pocket fall,
In stroling Walks, from
Strand to
Leaden-hall.
Curst, doubly curst, is Life of
Common Whore,
She Sweats, takes Pains, and yet is always Poor,
And who to merit Hell can suffer more?
In
Pairs like unclean Beasts they walk the Street,
And if one
over-charg'd with
Drink they meet
They seize his
Pocket, as their lawful Game,
For
Whore and
Thief are in one sense the same:
Till twelve at Night, these
Lustful Gypsies stroul
In quest of Mony, by the
pickt-up Fool:
Shame to their
Sex, and Scandal to the
Brute,
Who ne're permits the
Male a
second Bout;
But they—tho' void of Pleasure and Delight,
Can Weekly bear a
dozen Leaps a Night,
From Men of all Complexions, Tempers, Ages,
From
Beardless Youths, to
Reverend Grave Old Sages;
Till tir'd with Shaking of their
worn out Bums,
Through Allies
reel, to their respective Homes.
[Page 14] Breath breath a while, my over-heated
Muse,
Before you enter their accursed
Stews;
Where Aches, Buboes, Shankers, Nodes
and Poxes,
Are hid in Females Dam'd
Pandora's Boxes.
Think of the quiet Days, the calmer Nights,
The grateful Pleasures, and the soft Delights,
The large Exemption, from all noisy Strise,
And other Joys attend the
Virgin Life;
Thus fortified against their Tinsel Charms,
Advance with Courage and defie their Arms.
What Man's a Stranger to the fam'd Report,
Of the
Religious Nuns of Sals'bury Court?
Who daily standing at their
Convent Door,
And plying, seem to cry,
next Whore, next VVhore;
Like
Algerines who
Christian Vessels spy,
Hang out false Colours to deceive the Eye;
So who (but him who knows it is their Trade)
Would think a
Coffee-house a
Brothel made?
The sober Sign is hung out for a Stale,
The Treat within, is
Punk and
Bottle-Ale:
If with a feign'd Sobriety you come,
And unconcernedly survey the Room,
[Page 15] The Jilts who for your
Mony only burn,
Will quickly see you are not for their turn;
Well skill'd in
Physiognomy they know,
Whether you'll be their
Property or no:
But if they read the
Cully in your Face,
They come up to you, with a
dam'd Grimace,
My Dear (crys one) lets
leave this dirty Hole,
And go up Stairs my Jewel, shall's my Soul?
If with her fulsom flattery you comply,
(As some Men scarce have power to deny)
Bottles
of Mead, Mum, Cyder,
all at once,
Fly faster to the Room, than
Bombs at
Mons;
The Reck'ning flaming, and grave Matron gone,
And you with Mistress
Vp-tail left alone;
What follows—let my modest Reader guess,
My Muse forbids that I one hint express.
Besides these
Jilts we mentioned just before,
There are of sev'ral kinds a thousand more,
Religious VVhores, who go to
Church to
Prayer,
(Tho that's the smallest business they have there)
Who with
one Eye look up to
Heaven with Passion,
And with the
other, wink an
Assignation:
[Page 16]
Love and Devotion are so near of Kin,
She cannot think good Nature is a Sin.
There are a sort of
Cloyster'd Punks beside,
Who to be Vertuous thought, will take a Pride;
Reserv'd they live, in mighty State and Fashion,
And who dares scandalize their Reputation?
At
Tunbridge and at
Epsom VVell's each year,
Like People of
best Quality appear:
Blush when they hear a Word they judge obscene,
While thousand
lewd Ideas lurk within;
With
Artful VVil
[...]s they take a Pride to vex,
And bid defiance to the other
Sex:
But if at last betraid by
Inclination,
Or overcome by your too Foolish
Passion;
Or if by
Presents most
magnetick Charms,
You are at length conducted to her Arms;
Not
Fleetstreet Cracks who on young Striplings prey,
Are half so Lewd and Impudent as they.
When they the Night like
Messalina past,
Appear next Morning like
Lucretia chast;
Like
Jilts whose Arts some holy Pages fill,
They wipe their Mouths and say they've done no ill.
[Page 17] What Pity 'tis the
Bawds of this lewd Town
Who have some thousands of
each Sex undone,
Should want their
Statues made of lasting Brass,
And fixed at, or very near the place,
Where they their various
Scenes of
Lewdness taught,
And thought their
vilest Practices no fault;
Like fiery
Pillars they would mark the way,
In which
wild Youths too aptly run astray;
Then would no
Bewly, Swatford, Temple, Whipple,
Cresswell nor
Cozens, who so lov'd the Nipple;
Nor other Female Fachesses unknown,
Want that disgrace is due to
Vice alone;
For this old Maxim does all Mankind know,
That She that's once a
Whore, is always so;
Not
Pox nor
Gout can 'ere confine desire,
Nor can old Age extinguish lustful Fire;
Like
Sparks rakt up in Embers 'tmay return,
In fury, and with Rage and Passion burn.
But whilst my Muse their ways to
Strephon shows,
I teach those very Crimes I would expose:
Yet if wise
Spartans when their
Slaves were
Drunk,
Expos'd them
reeling to their
Childrens scorn,
[Page 18] With the same Reason I may paint the
Punk,
Not that my Friend their hated ways may learn,
But in his Mind those just Ideas frame,
That shunning of the Vice, he may avoid the shame.
Had you (but Heaven forbid 'tshould ever be)
Spent all upon these
Sinks of Infamy,
And wholly slighting all good Moral
Rules,
Ruin'd your Fortune in their
Vaulting Schools,
Softned your Mind by
Wheedles of
lewd VVhore,
And
spent so long, till you could
spend no more;
Reduc'd and
Poor and leading to a
Jayl,
And would
one Crown your
Corps from Durance
Bail;
Did you to some of them your Wants propound,
On whom you once had spent
five hundred Pound;
Not only they'd deny your small Request,
But make your very
Poverty their
Jest.
Would you a
Miserable Scene survey,
Step to the
Lock in Southwark any day,
Where you will with a kind of Horror view,
Clapt Sparks
in Fluxes,
Penitently stew;
The Sight's so nauseous, in my Soul I think,
This very instant Time, I smell the Stink.
[Page 19] Thus I've of
VVhores a short Description made,
And toucht the great
Arcana's of their
Trade,
For by what Name soever they are known,
Their proper Title sure is
Legion;
The Aegyptian Plague of Locusts heretofore
Is tollerable, to the
Plague of VVhore.
And now with me will
Gentle Strephon joyn,
And think a
Vertuous VVoman all
Divine;
By contraries some things are best
set off,
For let the
vicious Libertines still scoff,
If
Strephon's happy in a
Charming Bride,
In
Lifes rough
Seas with her we'll safely ride;
While they
poor daring rash unthinking Elves,
Expose their
Barks to
Shipwracks, Rocks and
Shelves;
Where
VVaves are never
calm nor
VVeather clear,
But
Storms and
Tempests last the
Circling Year.
FINIS.