The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony: Responses From Women

Name: The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony: Responses From Women
Author: Various

Various

English literature -- 18th century; Erotic literature, English

But now good lack-a-day our Trade's so bad,
         That truly Customers can scarce be had,
         Through those sly Whore's that do in privat dwell,
         So (but a story sad it is to tell)
         Our common Whores can scarce their Livings get
         By all the means of an intrieguing Wit.
         For _Drury Lane_, in _Fleetstreet_ or the _Strand_,
         Hours we walk e're any by the Hand,
         Will take us, wherefore as we daggle home,
         Some prick-louse _Taylor_ strutting up will come,
         With whom for want we're forced to comply,
         for one poor two pence wet, and two pence dry.


                               _FINIS._


                   *       *       *       *       *

                                  THE

                            Fifteen PLAGUES

                                 OF A

                              Maiden-Head

                       Written by Madam B----le.

                            [Illustration]

                                LONDON:

              Printed by F.P. near _Fleet-street_, 1707.




                                  THE

                         Fifteen Plagues of a

                          Maiden-Head, _&c._


                          _The First Plague._

           The Woman Marry'd is Divinely Blest,
         But I a Virgin cannot take my Rest;
         I'm discontented up, as bad a Bed,
         Because I'm plagued with my Maiden-head;
         A thing that do's my blooming Years no good,
         But only serves to freeze my youthful Blood,
         Which slowly Circulates, do what I can,
         For want of Bleeding by some skilful Man;
         Whose tender hand his _Launcet_ so will guide,
         That I the Name of _Maid_ may lay aside.


                         _The Second Plague._

           When I've beheld an am'rous Youth make Love,
         And swearing Truth by all the Gods above,
         How has it strait inflam'd my sprightly Blood
         Creating Flames, I scarcely should withstood,
         But bid him boldly march, not grant me leisure
         Of Parley, for 'tis Speed augments the Pleasure.
         Sirrah! tis my Misfortune not to meet
         With any Man that would my Passion greet,
         If he with balmy Kisses stop'd my Breath,
         From which one cannot die a better Death,
         Or stroke my Breasts, those Mountains of Delight,
         Your very Touch would fire an Anchorite;
         Next let your wanton Palm a little stray,
         And dip thy Fingers in the milky way:
         Then having raiz'd me, let me gently fall,
         Love's Trumpets sound, so Mortal have at all.
         But why wish I this Bliss? I wish in vain,
         And of my plaguy Burthen do complain;
         For sooner may I see whole Nations dead,
         But I find one to get my Maiden-head.


                          _The Third Plague._

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony: Responses From Women

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