English poetry -- 18th century; Prostitutes -- Poetry; Sexual ethics -- Poetry
T H E
W H O R E:
A P O E M.
[Price One Shilling.]
THE
WHORE:
A POEM.
Written by a =WHORE= of QUALITY.
“Of all the Crimes condemn’d in Woman-Kind,
“WHORE, in the Catalogue, the First you’ll find.”
This truly Saphic Production is confessedly written by a Priestess
of the Cyprian Deity, and by her recommended to those sincere
Worshipers, the Ladies L——r, G——r, W——y, Mrs. N——n, Mrs. R——n,
A——d, Bird of Paradise, _&c._ who sacrifice LARGELY to the loose
rob’d Goddess of Delight, and Tender Dalliance.
LONDON
Printed for the Author; and sold at the Pamphlet-Shop
opposite Anderton’s Coffee-House, Fleet-Street, and at all
other Pamphlet-Shops.
THE WHORE: A POEM.
THANKS to the age, the satyrizing Muse
Has themes sufficient—where she will to chuse;
Whither among the vulgar scenes of strife,
Or those renown’d for =Vice= in higher life.
Lord, Duke, or Duchess, might the theme enhance,
And shew the worst of crimes—without romance.
_St. James_’s, or _St. Giles_’s, will supply
Enough of subjects—in Iniquity.
=WHORE= is my theme, ye sisters all attend,
Give your applause, and be a sister’s friend;
If this ye do, and cast a fav’ring eye,
Those =Sons= of =Whores=, the Critics, I defy.
OF all the crimes condemn’d in women-kind,
=Whore=, in the catalogue, the first you’ll find;
This vulgar term is in the mouth of all
An epithet, on every female’s fall.
And what’s a Whore? Go ask the nations round;
Is it an empty name, and nought but sound?
Is it, above all other sins, the worst?
By man despised, and by =God= accurs’d?
If that’s the case, and scripture we believe,
What was the crime alledg’d to grandam =Eve=?
What was the fruit the Tree of Knowledge shew’d,
And made her break her promise to her =God=?
What in the serpent could o’er her prevail;
Was the great =EVIL= in his head or =TAIL=?
The Devil himself must clear up the dispute,
Who knew the virtue of the fatal fruit.
BUT what’s a =WHORE= in life?—pray let us find,
If possible we can, among mankind.
A woman, who the worst of thoughts debase,
All void of shame, of decency, and grace;
One who for hire her person will dispose,
And take, for need, each passer-by that goes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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