_How a Married Man, drawn in by a Bawd, kept a Whore, to the Ruine of
himself and Family._
We have seen in the last chapter how our Bawd drew in a young Married Woman
to deceive her Husband, and wrong the Marriage-Bed: And in this Chapter you
shall see how she draws in a Married Man to follow Whoring, so the Ruine of
himself, a vertuous Wife, and all his Family: For if she can but Rise, she
cares not who she Ruines.--But to the Story.
An Impudent Whore, of our Bawds own bringing up, that by removing to
several Quarters, had made a shift to escape _Bridewel_, which she merited
as much as any that ever came thither, had through the Bawds assistance,
drawn in one Foolish Fellow, by her Rich Robes, fair face, and fine Words,
to maintain her like a Lady; tho' she was but the Daughter of a sorry
Informer: Pride and Pleasure were the two Idols she ador'd; and to enjoy
them, she cared not how she exposed her poor Cully; who was oblig'd to be
liberal to the Bawd for Procuration, as well as to the Whore for
Fornication: Till at last her Pride and Pleasure had brought him to Pain
and Poverty. Neglecting of his Business, and Maintaining of his Miss, had
made him run in Debt, and he began to be so haunted by Bailiffs and
Sergeants, that he was forc'd to fly into the _Low-Countries_ to secure
himself; Chusing rather to trust to his Heels than his Hands. His Wench was
glad she was so rid of him; for being become Poor, and not able to supply
her with Money, she was grown quite a weary of him; but not of her way of
Living; For as soon as he was gone, she repairs again to the Old Bawd; and
acquainted her how matters stood with her. She has made the most of one,
and now she must have another: _Well_, says the Bawd, _Do but carry your
self, reserv'd and Maidenly, and I have a Spark that has a good Estate, and
will be able to spend high upon you; but he must have a Maid, and that I
have taught you well enough how to Counterfeit:_--Is he a married Man or
single, says the Trull?--_A married Man_, replies the Bawd, _but that's
nothing as long as he has Money: It were better indeed, that he were
single, for then I cou'd draw him in to marry you; and he might make a good
Cover; but don't fear but we'll do well enough as 'tis.--Only besure you
carry it shy at first, and that's the way to draw him in, and make him the
more Eager._--Let me alone for that, says the Whore; do you but bring us
together, and then leave it to me to make him bite: I warrant you I'll
manage him, or else say I am the veriest Whore in all the Town.--Which she
might have safely ventur'd to do, without being Guilty of Lying.
The Plot being thus laid, Mother Damnable goes out upon the scent, and
finds the Whore-hunter she wanted; and then tells him, that she had been at
great charge and expence to find out a Lass fit for his Purpose, But, says
she, tis such a one, That for Beauty, Birth and Breeding, is hardly to be
matched in _London_: She is indeed somewhat Coy, but I will help to Court
her for you: I protest I could have had Ten Guineas of Sir _R---- P----_ if
I would have helpt him to her: But I hate to be worse than my Word; I
promised you before, that when I could light of one fit for your Turn, I
would help you to her--Mr. _Graceless_, over-joyed at this News, and to
shew himself grateful to the old Bawd, presents her with a Guinea, before
he saw his Miss--Who being hereby incouraged, soon brings them together;
and at first sight he's mightily taken with her. But she seems very Coy,
and wou'd hardly let him salute her; Upon which the Bawd tells her, he's a
very worthy Gentleman, and one that deserves her Love. What Love can I
expect (replies the cunning Jade) from one that has a Wife already? As soon
as he has got what he desires, and taken from me, what's now my only Boast
my Maiden-head, my Honour and his Love will both be lost together: and then
I shall have nothing left me but too late Repentance. This so effectually
wrought upon him, That he made all the Protestations in the World, Nothing
shou'd ever part em, if she'd but condescend to accept of him for a
Gallant: For tho he had a Wife, 'twas one he cou'd not love, and didn't
care for her; whereas he saw those Charms in her, that would constrain him
to be always constant. And that if she would promise to be as true to him
as she shou'd always find him true to her, it wou'd be all the happiness
he'd ask.--And now, to make the Bargain firm, the Bawd engages for both
Parties, that they shall each be true to one another. And then after a
costly and expensive Match they went to Bed together; where she (instructed
by the Bawd) carried her self so cunningly that her besoted Lover thought
her as good a Maid as when she was but just come to her Teens.--And that
they might the better keep company without discovery, she must pass under
the Notion of his Sister, and he of her Brother.
And now she wheedles him with so much pretended Love, that she can have
what she will of him: and finding he was flush of Money and had a good
Estate, she won't be satisfied without her Countrey-House, which was
provided for her accordingly, facing the River-side at _Hamersmith_; and
adorn'd with rich Furniture. And when her Paramour cou'd not come to her,
by reason of Business, she then sent to the Bawd, who provided her a
Stallion to supply his place, which she paid for doing her Drudgery, with
his Money. And yet when he came to see her, she wou'd wipe her mouth as if
nothing had been the matter, and cry, why does my Sweeting stay so long
away? You don't care for me now! I sigh night after night, and day after
day, for want of your Company, but you've a Wife that you love better than
you do me; and indeed I told you so at first, and then you told me you'd
love me best, and I was so simple as to believe you: But if you had lov'd
me best, you wou'd'nt have staid away from me so long, that you wou'd'nt; I
am sure if I could have come to you, I woud'nt have staid from you so long.
And then she falls a weeping; which so much moves the amorous Cocks-comb,
that he falls a kissing her, and giving her all the good Words that can be;
cursing his Wife, and calling her all to nought; and telling his Miss that
he loves none but her. Having thus brought him to her Bow, she kisses him
again, and then says, Well, Honey, if you do love me indeed, I'll be
Friends with you, but let me see what you have brought me? Then if he have
brought her store of Yellow Boys, she's very well pleas'd with him; but if
his Money happen to be short, then she'll be out of humour; 'Tis a sign how
you love me, indeed, to stay away so long and then bring me nothing! Here's
all the Ladies round about can have new things, but I; and you don't care
how I go! Then to put her in a good humour, be promises her a new Satin
Gown; but this won't serve her turn neither, she wants jewels and Diamond
Rings to answer her other Apparel: And to procure these, he's fain to run
on the Score both with the Mercer and Goldsmith--By this means in a little
time his Estate comes to be wasted, and his Friends come about him, and
advise him to leave off these wicked Courses, which else will end in the
Ruine both of Soul and Body: They tell him that he has a fair and vertous
Wife of his own, by whom he has had several pretty Children, and therefore
wonder how he can be so besotted with a filthy Whore. But when all this
prevail'd not, his Wife seeing a wicked Strumpet without cause prefer'd
before her, taking a fit opportunity, acquainted her Husband with her
grief, and his own dangerous Estate, in this manner:
My dear Husband!
_Had I ever given you any just occasion to withdraw your affections from
me, you might have had a fairer Plea before Men, for doing what you do;
tho' even that wou'd have been no Excuse at the Tribunal of God, whom you
principally offend by your present wicked Life. But your own Conscience
will tell you, if you dare ask it the Question, that it has been the
Business of my whole Life, since I have been married to you, to carry my
self towards you as a loving and a vertuous Wife ought to do to her
Husband; and have done all that lay in my Power to contribute to your
Satisfaction. I have never made your House uneasie to you, by any
unbecoming Words or Carriage; nor what occasion so ever you have given me,
have I been either Clamorous, or a Brawler. 'Tis true my Heart is almost
broke with Grief; and who can blame me? When I see your affection so
Estranged from me, your Estate wasted, and my self and Children ready to go
a Begging, whilst an impudent Quean is at your Cost maintain'd in her Silks
and Sattins; and which is worse than all the rest, your own Soul, in danger
of Eternal Ruine. And if this Affects you not, remember your own Reputation
in the World: You have lived in Credit and Repute among your Neighbours:
and will you Sacrifice that, and Entail Shame and Dishonour upon your Self
and Family, for gratifying the Lusts of a filthy and Lascivious Strumpet?
If you go on in this Course, you must Morgage your Lands to pay your Debts;
and what a shame will that be? Your Father left you an Estate, but you are
like to leave an Heir that will have nothing to inherit; and so will be an
Heir only in Name. Think, O my Husband, what a Reflection it will be upon
you, when Men shall say, Your Father left you an Estate to live upon, but
you have spent it upon Whores, and left your Children Beggars. This was
your Fathers House, but you have sold it to maintain your Miss. Consider
the Reproach that this will bring upon your Children: You brought 'em up
like Gentlemen, and then betray'd 'em to Want and Beggery. Have you forgot
the Vow you made when we were Married? You promis'd then to take none but
my self: Yet now you let a Harlot take away your Love from me, that am your
faithful and your loving Wife; and might have been by you Esteem'd so
still, if this Lewd Woman had not made strife between us: You promis'd at
your Marriage that none but Death should seperate us. And as my self has
never broke that promise, so you have never had from me any occasion given
you to do it: And I am ready still to embrace you in my Arms, with all the
tenderest Affections of a loving Wife. O let me beg of you, that you wou'd
hearken to my sorrowful Complaint, pity my Tears, and suffer not your
Family to perish, but bear a Fathers Heart towards these, that are the
Children of your Body. Or if you'll pity neither me nor your poor Children,
pity your self: for you will suffer most in the Conclusion: You cannot
think that you please God in living as you do: Can you take Comfort (think
you) in remembering that you have ruin'd both your self and Family, by
keeping of a Whore, when you shall lie upon your Dying Bed, and your poor
Soul is just taking of its flight into Eternity? How will that Sentence
terifie your Conscience, _Whoremongers and Adulterers God will judge_? Then
you will wish (but wishing then, my Dear, will be in vain) that you had
never given ear to that Enchanting Syren, that for a few false Joys and
momentary Pleasures, betray'd your Soul to Everlasting Misery. But if you
will be Deaf to my complaints, and not regard the Ruine of your Children,
nor pity your own Soul: Tho I am sure my Grief will bring me to my Grave. I
shall be Satisfied in this, that I have done what ever lay within my Power
to save you from the Ruin and Destruction to which I see you hastening._
And when she had said this, she seconded her Words with Tears, and fell a
weeping till she cou'd weep no more.
Yet all this would not molifie her unrelenting Husband, nor work any change
upon him; for he regarded neither what she said, nor the sorrowful moans
and complaints of her almost Famished Infants: For all she gets for her
affectionate Counsel and Advice, is to be sometimes rail'd at, and at other
times jeer'd and flouted.
Soon after he goes to his Drab again, and to her he repeats what his Wife
had said to him: which so far had rais'd her Choler, that she gives it vent
in such Language as this:
What has she fed upon nothing but Crabbs of late, that she is grown so
sowr! She now begins to prate it seems! 'Tis time to bring her down: A
stinking dirty Slut, to rail at me! And you to stand by, like a Fool, and
let her! I am afraid she's too full fed; that makes her be so malapert; but
had but I the ordering of her, I vow to gad I'd quickly make her pinch
for't. She shou'd be glad to get a piece of Bread: And that it self's too
good for her, I wonder how she had the Impudence to prate to you: But she
knows well enough she has a Tender-hearted Fool to deal withal; she must
advise ye! Marry gap indeed! Tis more then time she did! I see she wants to
be the Head! Or else she'd never Tutor you about your heir! 'Tis very fine
advice methinks she gives you! She'd have you want your self to hoard for
him! But sure you will be more Wise. E'en put him to a Trade; and let him
Work. He is big enough, and then pack out the rest. I'd make the Jade fret
in her grease for something: Pray how comes she to know what passes between
you and I? She has Money enough it seems to hire her private Spies to find
our meeting out: She serves you right enough: Well, be a Fool, and let her
rail on still; And shew thy self a poor kind-hearted Ass! I'll warrant ye,
you fell upon your knees, and begg'd her Pardon, because you kept my
Company; and Promis'd that you'd never do so no more! This 'tis to have to
do with one that has a Wife! I told you first of all what I shou'd find: An
ugly Jade, to call me filthy Strumpet! Had I been by, I'd soon have made
her smart for't! Any but such a Hen-peck'd Fool as you, that had but heard
her say so, wou'd straight have given her such a dash o'th' Chops as shou'd
have beat her Teeth into her Throat, and quickly spoil'd her Prating. But I
am plagu'd with one that dares not speak a Word to vindicate me. If you are
a weary of me, tell me so; for I can quickly mend me self, if you'll but
say the Word: And if you will prefer your wrinkled Wife before my Youth and
Beauty, with all my heart, for I'm resolv'd I'll never lead this Life! To
be abus'd by an old Withered Hag! I have no patience when I think of it: A
dirty homely _Joan_! For my part, I admire how thou coud'st love her: She
frets, I'll warrant you, because she lies alone: But who that is not Mad,
wou'd lie with such a sapless piece of wither'd Flesh as she, when he may
lie by such a one as I, that's sweet, and fresh, plump, brisk and airy, and
that's full of Juice, just in the Bloom of all my Youth and Beauty. But if
to this thou still prefer'st thy Dowd; take her for me, and
much-good-do-thee with her.
By this Discourse, this Impudent and filthy Trull, quite sham'd him out of
any thoughts of Vertue; and therefore that he might the better please her,
he replies,
My dear, Thou canst not sure think me so mad as to regard her foolish Idle
prate, or to leave thee for twenty such as she is. No, never think I have
so little Wit, I gave her such a Reprimand as soon as she had spoke, that
cool'd her Courage in an instant: for I let her know her Tittle-Tattle
would be all in vain; and that I was resolv'd I would be absolute. Shall I
be ty'd by such a one as she? No, Love, I scorn it. And for her Tongue, let
me alone to tame it: _Winter_ is coming on and then I'll make her keep her
breath to warm her hands; for she shall have from me no other firing. Let
her rail on, and see what she can get by't; whilst thee and I delight our
selves in Pleasures; I'll be no Slave to that which I possess: Come, thou
art mine, and shalt have what thou wilt; my Love to thee is more then to my
Heir: shall I live sparing for a Brood of Bratts, that for my Means wish me
in my Grave! No, I know better things: I will my self enjoy it while I
live, for when I'm gone, the World is gone with me: Thou hast my heart, my
Dear, and I'll not leave thee; tho' she shou'd Chat until her Tongue be
weary. I'll find another way to make her quiet; or she shall have but very
small Allowance: She tells me, Grief will kill her very shortly: I wish it
wou'd, I shou'dn't grutch the Charges of giving her a Coffin and a Grave.
I (_says the Coaxing Jilt_) I like you now. Do as you say, and then I'll
warrant you, you'll quickly make the Flirt submit her self: And win my
heart for ever.
Thus they continu'd Revelling and Spending, whilst his poor Wife went with
a hungry Belly, and her small Children almost wanted Bread; which with the
grief she took to see her Husband unreclaimable cast her into a fit of
Sickness; which in a few days brought her to her Grave, to the great Grief
of her poor Children and her Neighbours, who all Lamented her: But to the
great Joy of her Scotish Husband and the Graceless Quean that he
maintain'd, who now thought all their own, and that they might Sin on
without Controul. But tho his Vertuous Wife wanted an _Elegy_, she shall
not want an _Epitaph_: