that rate, she don’t fear loosing their Custom.  She’s often broke, and as often sets up again; which She does without any great charge; for three strong Water-Bottles, Two ounces of Tobacco, and a Couple of Countrey Wenches, is as much as will set her up at any Time.  Her Breath stinks worse than a Bear-garden, her Furniture consists of a Bed, a Plaister-Box and a Looking Glass:  and a Pimp to bring in Customers.  She sits continually at a Rack Rent, especially if her Landlord bears office in the Parish, because he may screen her from the Cart and Bridewel.  She hath only this one shew of Temperance, that let any Gentleman send for Ten Pottles of Wine in her House, he shall have but Ten Quarts; and if he want it that way, let him pay for’t and take it out in Stew’d flesh.  She has an Excellent Art in Transforming Persons, and can easily turn a Sempstress into a Waiting-Gentlewoman:  But there is a kind of Infection that attends it, for it brings them to the falling Sickness.  The Justices Clerk is her very good Friend, and often makes her Peace with the Justice of Quorum; for which when he makes her a Visit, She always help him to a fresh Bit, which She lets him have upon her Word; and assures him she won’t put a Bad Commodity into his Hand.  There is nothing daunts her so much as the Approach of Shrove-Tuesday; for she’s more afraid of the Mob, than a Debtor of a Serjeant, Or a Bayliff in an Inns of Court.  He that hath past under her hath past the Equinoctial; and he that escapes her, has Escap’d a Rock which Thousands have been split upon to their Destruction.

Thus have I briefly represented my Bawd unto the Readers View in her own proper Colours, and set her forth in a true Light.  I will therefore thus conclude her Character.

__A Bawd_ is the chief instrument of evil,_ __Tempter_ to Sin, and Factor for the Devil_ Whose sly Temptations has undone more Souls Than there are Stars between the Worlds two Poles. She ruines Families_ to advance her Treasure,_ And reaps her Profit_ out of others Pleasure:_ Pleasures attended with so black a stain, That they at last end in Eternal Pain_._ Her ways so various are, they’re hard to tell, By which she does betray poor Souls to Hell. Smooth is her Tongue_, and Subtile are her ways_ And by false Pleasures_ to True Pain betrays._ The Bane of Virtue_, and the Bawd to Vice,_ __Pander_ to Hell, is this She-Cockatrice._ She’s like the Devil_, seeking every hour_ Whom she may first Decoy_, and then Devour:_ Let every thinking Mortal then beware, And, that he comes not near her House, take care: For She’ll Betray (her fury is so fell) Your Body_ to the Pox, your Soul to Hell._

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