The Ladyes Vindication:
BEING
The Womens Answer,
TO
Your humble Servant Madame.
To the same Tune.
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THe City has,
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No Knave so base,
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In all the Stock of Free-men;
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Thou art a Rogue,
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And dost Collogue,
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To cousen simple Women;
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You will follow on your Trade,
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Till some Lady gets a Blade,
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That in rage shall run thee through;
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Then the World will bid adieu,
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To your Comple[m]ent and you,
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For a Saucie Raskall Sirrrah.
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You weare the Scarrs,
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Of Venus Warrs,
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but nere saw bolder Battle,
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Unlesse it were,
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To Domineere,
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and Plunder Plow-mens Cattle:
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Though you think you live alone,
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You are infamously known,
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in City, Town and Borrough;
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With your Complements and Oaths,
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You get Meat and Drink and Cloaths,
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Like a cheating Raskall Sirrah.
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Should you rely,
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On Honesty,
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your Chopps would quickly starve ont
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Such Knaves as you,
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Makes Princes rue,
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for keeping such a Servant;
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Though you have a Place at Court,
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Twill not hide your ill Report;
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you are fain to begg and borrow,
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Beet of Women or of Men,
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You do never payt agen,
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Like a cheating Raskall Sirrah.
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The second part, to the same Tune.
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YOur Complement,
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In vain is spent.
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the Ladies all are sick ont;
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Your flattring Trade,
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Will quickly fade,
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for Women have found the trick ont
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Wheresoever you have bin,
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You must never come agen,
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to Plow, nor yet to Harrow;
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They shall put you to disgrace,
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And will tell you to your face.
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Your a saucie Raskall Sirrah.
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Each Royalist.
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Doth bend his Fist,
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and vowes he means to beat ye;
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The Russian Swears,
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Hel send for Beares,
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to teare, torment, and eat ye:
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You are grown a very shame,
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To the Nature and the Name,
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of the Womb that thou slippst thorrough
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If you come but in their way,
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Every Kitchen-wench will say,
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Your a saucie Raskall Sirrah.
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Both Maids and Wives,
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That lead good Lives,
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do all resolve to hang thee,
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And Squire Dun Vows,
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Heel by a Noose,
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at his own charge to hang thee:
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If you do not bring the Rings,
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And the other pretty Things,
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that your flattering tongue did borrow,
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They will have you by the Bones,
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And will batter you with Stones.
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For a cheating Raskall Sirrah.
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Those Women that,
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You have been at,
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detestably abhorr ye,
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And never a Whore,
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Though old and poore,
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will give a Turnupp for ye:
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If you could be made a Knight,
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Youl not get a penny byt,
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your Wit is grown too narrow;
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You will pittyfully Fade,
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Every Taylor hath your Trade,
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Your a simple Coxcombe Sirrah.
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The Divell and you,
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Have made a vow,
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and laid your heads together,
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How to Trappan,
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Each weak Woman,
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with powdered Hair and Feather:
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Twas the Divell at the first,
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Made the Woman be accurst,
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and caused all her sorrow,
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Which hath made us all to rue,
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Such another Divell are you,
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And a Cheating Raskall Sirrah. Finis.
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