a Scamperer, a Breaker of Windows, an Invader of
Constables, in the Days of Yore when all Dominion
ended with the Day, and Males and Females met helter
skelter, and the Scowrers drove before them all
who pretended to keep up Order or Rule to the Interruption
of Love and Honour. This is his way of Talk,
for he is very gay when he visits me; but as his former
Knowledge of the Town has alarmed him into an invincible
Jealousy, he keeps me in a pair of Slippers, neat
Bodice, warm Petticoats, and my own Hair woven in
Ringlets, after a Manner, he says, he remembers.
I am not Mistress of one Farthing of Money, but
have all Necessaries provided for me, under the
Guard of one who procured for him while he had any
Desires to gratify. I know nothing of a Wench’s
Life, but the Reputation of it: I have a natural
Voice, and a pretty untaught Step in Dancing.
His Manner is to bring an old Fellow who has been his
Servant from his Youth, and is gray-headed:
This Man makes on the Violin a certain Jiggish Noise
to which I dance, and when that is over I sing to
him some loose Air, that has more Wantonness than Musick
in it. You must have seen a strange window’d
House near Hide-Park, which is so built that
no one can look out of any of the Apartments; my
Rooms are after that manner, and I never see Man, Woman,
or Child, but in Company with the two Persons above-mentioned.
He sends me in all the Books, Pamphlets, Plays,
Operas and Songs that come out; and his utmost Delight
in me as a Woman, is to talk over old Amours in my
Presence, to play with my Neck, say the Time was,
give me a Kiss, and bid me be sure to follow the
Directions of my Guardian (the above-mentioned Lady)
and I shall never want. The Truth of my Case is,
I suppose, that I was educated for a Purpose he did
not know he should be unfit for when I came to Years.
Now, Sir, what I ask of you, as a Casuist, is to
tell me how far in these Circumstances I am innocent,
though submissive; he guilty, though impotent? I
am, SIR, Your constant Reader, PUCELLA.
To the Man called the SPECTATOR.
Friend, Forasmuch as at the Birth of thy Labour, thou didst promise upon thy Word, that letting alone the Vanities that do abound, thou wouldst only endeavour to strengthen the crooked Morals of this our Babylon, I gave Credit to thy fair Speeches, and admitted one of thy Papers, every Day save Sunday, into my House; for the Edification of my Daughter Tabitha, and to the end that Susannah the Wife of my Bosom might profit thereby. But alas, my Friend, I find that thou art a Liar, and that the Truth is not in thee; else why didst thou in a Paper which thou didst lately put forth, make mention of those vain Coverings for the Heads of our Females, which thou lovest to liken unto Tulips, and which are lately sprung up amongst us? Nay why didst thou make mention of them in such a seeming, as if thou didst approve the Invention, insomuch that my Daughter Tabitha