LITMIR.BIZ

      Clap, clap ye Whores, Clap as Clap can,

      Some Clap to Women, we'll Clap the Men.

      No sooner does a Maid arrive to Years,

      And she the Pleasures of Conjunction hears,

      But strait her Maidenhead a Tip-toe runs,

      To get her like, in Daughters or in Sons;

      Upon some jolly Lad she casts her Eye,

      And with some am'rous Gestures by the by;

      She gives him great Encouragement to take

      His fill of Love, and swears that for his sake

      She soon shall Die; which makes the Youth so hot

      To get about the Maiden's Honey-pot,

      That promising her Marriage and the like,

      They both a Bargain very quickly Strike;

      [*?] Rubbers often take till she does prove

      With Child, then she bids adieu to Love;

      And e're she's brought to Bed away does Creep,

      For fear he should the Wenche's Urchin keep.

      Now when a Maid has crackt her Maidenhead,

      By being once or twice (Sir) brought to Bed,

      Her Credit then's so broke that all her Wit,

      And Policy cannot a Husband get;

      But yet not being out of Heart she Cries,

      From Marriage keeping I shall be more wise,

      For if he's not a Fool he soon will find,

      I had before I'd him to some been kind,

      Then how he'd call me arrant Bitch and Whore,

      And Swear some Stallion had been there before;

      Then leave me, Wherefore I will single Live,

      And my Invention to decoying give,

      For as I was by fickle Man betray'd,

      So Men by me too shall be Bubbles made,

      Till the dull Sots clandestine Means do take,

      In robbing Masters,for a Strumpets sake,

      For which if they shou'd at the Gallows Swing,

      Their End I'd in some merry Ditty Sing.

      What tho' of Whoring it is the mishap,

      Sometimes for him that Ruts to get a Clap,

      Or an Invetrate Pox which may expose

      His private Sports by Eating off his Nose;

      How many by hard Drinking will Roar out

      With Aches, Rheumatism's or the Gout,

      When in that gorging, guzling, tipling Sin

      There is not half the Pleasure, that there's in,

      The soft Embraces of a Woman who

      Altho' she is not to one Moral true,

      Does strive to please your height of amorous Lust,

      With such a ravishing and pleasing Gust,

      That wou'd an Eunuch tempt to tast the same,

      But that he Tools does want to play the Game.

      Tho' Buboes, Nodes and Ulcers are the Marks,

      Of many a wanton Beau and am'rous Sparks

      And many a lustful Lecher oft complains

      Of restless Days and damn'd nocturnal Pains,

      Nays go into a Flux o dozen Weeks,

      Is't not the Man himself these Sorrow seeks?

      Besides, how often see you go astride

      A Miss, as if she was with Packthread ty'd;

      Who's Poxt and Clapt as much as you can be,

      And undergoes a deal of Misery,

      To give your wanton Appetites content,

      [*?] feeding you with Flesh, altho' in Lent:

      Therefore as the old Woman very Tart

      Once said, when against Thunder she did Fart,

      'Twas only tit for tat, so if the Men

      Do clap the Whores, and Whores Claps them agen,

      Tis only tit for tat; tis very true,

      What's good for Goose is good for Gander too.

      What if a Man is in a marry'd State?

      Confin'd to one does am'rous Heat abate,

      Or shew me him (altho' he were in need.)

      That always wou'd upon one Diet feed

      When once a Woman's by a Man enjoy'd

      For good and all, his Appetite is cloy'd.

      Therefore he fixes on some wanton Miss

      Whom rather than his Wife behalf he'd Kiss,

      For as it's oft reported now a days,

      A Thing that's fresh, fresh Courage, too will raise

      What Man wou'd shun the Plagues of Pox and Pills,

      Or all the ails that are in Doctors Bills,

      Rather than not be circled in the Arms

      Of one that tempts you with a thousand Charms,

      And tho' she long has lost her Maidenhead,

      Yet such Dexterity she'll shew in Bed,

      That, Sir, your Mouth wou'd water o're and o're,

      To feed again upon a skilful Whore.

      'Tis true, the Fop that thinketh to secure'd

      To himself, in private Lodgins some fine Whore

      He is a Fool, for she'll not be confin'd,

      To any Man altho' he's are so kind;

      For being then high Pampered and Fed,

      In absence of her Cull she takes to Bed

      Another, that with Gold allures her too,

      That

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