The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony: Responses from Men | Page 6

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,