The Whoremongers Conversion,
And his Exhortation tos worshipfull friend,
To leave haunting whores; from his words this wasptennd:
And at his request, which makes the Author bolder:
It is to be sung like the maunding Souldier.
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GOod your Worship cast your eye,
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Upon a whore-house scornfully
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Let not their painted faces gay,
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Drive from your heart all grace away:
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but like a Neaphite,
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abandon quite
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all sensuall pleasure and delight:
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and then you soone shall finde
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a sweete contented minde,
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and have your purse still better linde.
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To beg I was not borne, sweet sir,
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Yet this petition I preferre
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Unto your worship which may give
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You good instructions how to live,
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leave following of Whores,
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and them that roares,
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oh doe not come within their doores,
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and then you soone will finde
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a sweet contented minde
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and have your purse still better linde.
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Ide scorne to make comparison,
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With a Jew, a Turke, or Sarizon:
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That in their lives ner tasted grace,
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But still have runne a wicked race:
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yet in bad desires,
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calld Cupids fires,
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they passe not you, then need requires,
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that you your Whores forsake,
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and better courses take,
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or else youll feele th infernall Lake.
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Then scorne those painted counterfeits,
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That get their meanes by wicked sleights,
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Theyll learne you so much parly French,
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From you shall come a rotten stench,
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and at last you shall
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be forst to fall,
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ith Surgeons hands, oth Hospitall:
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there you shall lye and rot
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this is by Whoring got,
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then good your worship use it not.
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For I (sir) limping lame have beene,
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Sore bitten by the Scorpiuns keene,
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In a bawdy house I usd to roare,
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Till all my joynts were pocky sore:
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all this I have endurd,
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which vice procurd,
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and since of health I am assurd,
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I will doe what I can,
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to hinder every man
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from that base course which once I ran.
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Thrice thoron the skull I have beene shot,
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Till all my haire came off, God wot,
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I have at least a doozen times
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Beene apprehended for those crimes:
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the Constable and Watch
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oft did me catch.
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thus I disgrace got by the match:
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and so shall every one
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that does as I have done:
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then, good your worship, wenching shun.
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The second part, To the same tune.
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AT pot and pipe I lost mine eye,
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In quarrell most unluckily:
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To old-street end, though then a lad,
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Foure wenches at one time I had:
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oh you would little weene,
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that I have beene
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a Champion unto many a Quean:
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I have beene beaten sore,
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ith quarrell of a whore,
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but now I will be so no more.
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I comming from a play was tane,
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By th Marshals men in Golding-lane,
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And stripped out of money quite,
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Exchanging Gold for Silver white:
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thus in poore aray
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I hrisoner lay,
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untill my friends the debp did pay,
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for a bond of my word I past,
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and thus was scornd at last:
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then good your worship live more chaste.
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Theres no bad place that you can name,
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But I have bin int, the mores my shame:
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In Turnbull street and Bloomesbury,
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I have playd my part most shamelesly:
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at Blackman-street I have
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like a lustfull knave,
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receivd what welcome harlots gave:
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and at Rosemary lane
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I did two whores maintaine,
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but now their basenesse I disdaine.
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And since I have beene at Cow-crosse
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So punisht with my Purses losse:
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Since that at Pickt-hatch I by chance
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Learnd French of one that ner saw France:
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there I lost my cloake,
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which almost broke
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me quite: all this for truth is spoke,
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and now I home am come
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with a newly mended bum,
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such hap Jove keepe your worship from.
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And now my case you understand,
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Good sir, let me this boone demand:
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That youll be warnd by me, and leave
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These damned Queanes that will bereave
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not onely you of wealth,
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but bodies health,
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nay thats not all, for they by stealth
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will steale your soule away,
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to be the devils prey:
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then sweet sir, leave them while you may.
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I pray your worship thinke on me,
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That am a poore man, as you see:
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Yet once I was with wealth indude,
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Which I have spent with strumpets lewd
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and so will you in time,
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if this your prime
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you waste away in such a crime:
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but I for you will pray,
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that you may mend this day.
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Oh sweet sir, think of what I say.
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