Song on the London Ladies

TIme was, thou must dwindle thy mony and time
And, the dearest of all thy vigour, and prime
To Court a coy Mistris, that long'd for't as much
As thou couldst desire to give her a touch:
But now the rate's known; the best will turn up
Foe a Guiny, a Pullet, and t'other old cup:
A World 'tis of pleasure, one Necklace of Pearl,
Will conjure the richest, or modestest Girl.

All Trade is for gain, all Commodities sold,
Fear not; for thy coyn thou mayst justly be bold.
A pox on fine words; the contemplative fool
Talks of Love, and of flame; an oh! what mis-rule,
These keep in his heart: now a sigh, then a groan;
And her very jeca's sufficient alone
To fill him with raptures, sweet dreams, and what not!
VVhen alas! all the while her flames are as hot.

In company with her, each glance drops a Charm,
And she gives him her hand, to keep him still warm;
For this is the man she designes her lewd life,
To cloak with the serious name of a Wife:
To the modest all distance, with those that are free
She can tickle, and kiss, and kinder yet be:
Adieu to fond Courtship, all Arguments lie,
In the briskest assault, when the pockets let flie.

Love is banish'd the world, and vertue is gone
To some private recess, to lament all alone;
For now she grows barren, and none of her race
Can be found either with, or without a good face:
To the Ma…, to the Park, to the Pit, or the Box;
Where you will, you can't miss: there's meat for the Cocks.
And thus will it be, for old Eve at the first,
And her Daughters e're since have made all Men accurst.