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,
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