IS, then, necessity the only plea? Ye sisters in high life, come tell to me; High fed, high bred, high marry’d too, indeed, Do you not sometimes _whore_ to mend the breed? Necessity, with you, can have no claim; Wants you have none—unless you know _that same_; Your spouse, perhaps, lies snoring all the night, While you are wishing for the soft delight. Is impotence the case?—he =OLD=, you =YOUNG=, Weak in his back, while you are stout and strong; If he can’t eat, pray why should you be starv’d? The _craving Womb of Nature_ must be serv’d. THIS NEWTON knew, and like a cunning elf, As spousy could not carve—she help’d herself. BUT GROSV’NOR, what could be the case with you? ‘Good lack! my lord was to my bed untrue; ‘Where’er he went he sought some lew’d embrace, ‘Neglected me for ev’ry newer face; ‘In silence long I mourn’d my hapless fate, ‘At length determin’d to retaliate. ‘Yet to no mean amour did I descend; ‘A Prince my lover, and a Prince my friend. ‘Who would not wish for such a lot as mine? ‘Who would not be a _royal concubine?_ ‘Envy’d by ev’ry lady I could see, ‘Who, if not =WHORES=, would fain be so—like me.’ And yet, mistaken =Grosvenor=, you find His royal vows and oaths were all but wind; He’s satisfied himself, and comes no more, While for your comfort—you’ve the name of =WHORE=. POOR LIGONIER was, too, condemn’d by fate To find at last an insufficient mate; One who could not her eager joys pursue, And _pleasures standard_ raise unto the view; Therefore the staff she took into her hand, And had a reg’ment at her own command. WORSLEY, of late, has prov’d strong Nature’s bent, And try’d with many—for her own content; Her willing cuckold she has nicely bam’d, Who, for his vile compliance, should be d——d. The meanest scoundrel, sure, in human life, Is he who to another lets his wife; Or basely does at lustful acts connive, That he may _tippers_ to his _horns_ contrive; Plead ign’rance, tho’ he knows it all the while, That his _wife_’s _friend_, of gold, he may beguile. BUT say you, ‘Spouses thus might be in fault;’ Consider what good lessons you’d been taught; From earliest youth what tutors you have had, That you might rise the joy of =Mam= and =Dad=; =Virtue= and =Prudence=, names of mighty force, You work’d upon your samplers of course; No sights unseemly ever struck your eyes, But all was done to make you good and wise. ’Twas, sure, the _force of Nature!_ that was all, Which thus could make your dignities to fall. Had you been brought up in some foreign land, Where sacred monast’ries around expand, Such _slipp’ry tricks_ you surely ne’er had done, Each in her mind, no doubt, had been a Nun.