Here lies a Man who would not Warning take, And now for others may a Warning make: He spent his Substance upon Bawds_ and Whores,_ Destroy’d his Wife, turn’d’s Children out of Doors. And yet when all was spent, and he grown Poor, He was forsaken both by Bawd_ and Whore._ Let all henceforth of Bawds_ and Whores beware,_ By whom he was betray’d to black Despair.

Thus Reader, by this Story thou may’st see How by Lewd Women Men deluded be: The Bawd’s_ the Setter, and the Shameless Whore_ Sucks him so dry, she quickly makes him Poor. First of his Wit, then of his Wealth bereaves him; And when she has got all she can, she leaves him. Then let all Mankind loath this filthy Jade, Since Ruin and Destruction is her Trade.

* * * * *

CHAP.  V.

    How an Irish-Footman_ was drawn into a Bawdy-House and what
    followed._

It happen’d not long since that a Dear Joy for his Dexterity in running, was entertain’d into the Service of an English-Gentleman, who had put him into a good new Livery; and his Master having occasion to send him for a pair of Shooes he had bespoke, gave him five Shillings to pay for them; which a Bawd happening to see, and over-hear, thought presently she might bring in Teague for a Customer; and therefore as soon as he had parted with his Master, she catches hold of him, as he came by her door & told him that a Countrey-man of his was within, and had a great Mind to drink one Pot of Ale with him; A Country Mons of mine, says the Shamrogshire Nimble Heels! Now Pox tauk you but me tank you for your Loof, and be me Shoul, so mush baust as I been, I shall mauk Drink upon my Country-Mons; for fait and trot now dear Joy, Eirish Mons never been base; and so in a doors he comes; and the Bawd has him into a Room presently, and tells him she’ll go call his Country-man; but instead of his Country-man, sends in a Whore to him; who at her coming, thus accosted him, Country-man I am very glad to see you; I have got a Pot of Ale at your Service for St. Patrick’s sake; and the old Bawd having brought in a Pot, the Wench takes it up, Here, says she, here’s a good health to St. Patrick:  Wid all mine heart, said the Teague-Lander, _& Pox tauk me as I no mauk Pledge upon him_; and thereupon pledg’d her, & drank a good draught; and then the Jade beginning to be sweet upon him, he was so well pleas’d, that he forgot his Errant; and fell a kissing her; upon which she ask’d him to go up stairs, to which he readily consented:  and there she let him take all the Liberty he had a Mind to; for which to recompence her, the Bog-trotter gave her Six-pence.—­But when he came down, the Bawd ask’d him how he lik’d his Country-Woman, and whether she had pleas’d him? Fait and Trot now, dear Joy,