YE worst of vermin that our isle affords,
Spawn of curs’d flies, engender’d first in t—rds
Ye nitty off-spring of a winged plague,
That swarms in mutton from the rump to th’ craig:
Tormentors of our cooks, all England’s foes,
From rural gluttons, to our London beaus.
In ev’ry cloven joint thy mother’s blow,
Where if not crush’d, you will to maggots grow,
Raise your black heads, and crawl about our food,
And poison what was eatable and good;
Pollute that flesh which should our lives maintain,
To dogs condemn what was design’d for man.
Ye eggs of mischief that in clusters dwell,
Hateful to the eyes and nauseous to the smell,
Ill omens of a worse succeeding harm,
That makes good housewives blush, the husbands storm.
For thee the faultless cook-maid bears the blame,
More salt, you slattern, crys the angry dame,
And then the falchion-ladle goes to work:
I’ll teach you, jade, to salt the beef and pork.
May showers of brine each powdering-tub o’erflow,
Pepper and salt in every orchard grow;
Then may each hand to seas’ning be employ’d,
That thy curs’d race may be at once destroy’d.
I’ll assure you, Captain, these verses are highly in esteem among all dealers in flesh, I have had many a dinner for a copy of them, to be put into a gilt frame, and hung up in a cook’s shop to give people a concocting laugh after dinner, that their victuals mayn’t lie heavy upon their stomachs. By this time I believe I have pretty well tir’d your patience, so think it full time to conclude myself,
From Nell Gwin to Peg Hughes.
Sister Peg,
OF all the concubines in christendom, that ever were happy in so kind a keeper, none sure ever squandered away the fruits of her labour so indiscreetly as yourself; whoring and gaming I acknowledge are two very serviceable vices in a common-wealth, because they make money circulate; but for a woman that has enrich’d herself by the one, to impoverish herself by the other, is so great a fault, that a harlot deserves correction for. Some people may think copulation a very easy and delightful way of getting money, but they are much mistaken, for the pains, you know as well as myself, which we take to please our benefactors, destroy our own pleasure, and make it become a toil we are forc’d to sweat at. Then who, but you, that had acquired such plentiful possessions by the labour of her bum, and sweat of her brows, would have tossed away thousands in a night upon the chance of a card, or fate of a die, as if you believed your honour was an Indian mine, which would furnish you with gold to eternity for the trouble of digging: but now, Madam, you find yourself mistaken, for those crows-feet that have laid hold of the corners of your eyes, and wrinkly age, that in spight of art, supplies the places of your absent charms, fright away the amorous and the generous from your experienc’d embraces: besides, women, I hear, are so plentiful upon earth, that a lady of our quality, must be the true copy of an angel in appearance, whose favours shall be thought worth meat, drink, washing, lodging, and cloaths; so that a pretty woman now a-days may make a slave of her bumfiddle for thirty years together, and not get money enough to keep her out of an hospital, or an alms-house at the age of fifty. I, you see, thro’ the whole course of my life, maintain’d my post, and as I was mistress to a king, liv’d as great as a duchess to my last minute; and you, like an extravagant concubine, to game away an estate, in few years, large enough to have maintain’d a score of younger brothers listed into your ladyship’s service, who would have drudg’d to oblige you as much as you did to delight the good old gentleman that gave it to you; fie upon’t, I am asham’d to think, that a woman who had wit enough to tickle a prince out of so fine an estate, should at last prove such a fool as to be bubbled of it by a little spotted ivory and painted paper; if that mouth could have spoke that had labour’d hard to earn the penny, and miser-like was always gaping for more riches, sure it would have scolded at your profuse hands, for flinging away that estate so fast which they had but a small share in getting of, but indeed it is not fit the silent beard should know how much it has been abus’d by the other parts of the body, for if it did, it would be enough to put it into a pouting condition, and make it open its sluice to the drowning of the low-countries in an inundation of salt-water. I would advise you, Madam, with the small remains of your squander’d fortune, to go into a nunnery, turn Roman Catholick, which is the best religion in the universe, (for ladies of your occupation, grow wonderful pious, and make a virtue of necessity) and there remain till death, as a living testimony of the truth of the old proverb, (viz) That what is got over the devil’s back, is spent under his belly: which is all the consolation you deserve from your sister in iniquity,
Nell Gwin.
Peg Hughes’s Answer to Nell Gwin.
Madam,
I AM sorry a mistress of a king should degenerate so much from that generosity which was always applauded as a virtue in us ladies, who, like the industrious beaver, do our business with our tails; for a woman of my quality to value money, looks mean and mercenary, and is becoming no body but an unmerciful miser, or a common strumpet; should I have plac’d an esteem upon the riches that was left me, the world might have suppos’d it was for the greediness of gain, that made me yield my favours; and what had I been better than Madam James, or Mrs. Knight of Drury-lane; had I expos’d my honour for the lucre of base coin, and sinned on for the sake only of advantage. Beauty’s the reward of great actions, and I generously bestow’d mine upon a prince that deserv’d it, abstractly from the thoughts of interest, but rather to shew my gratitude, in return of his noble passion for me; and since he had made me the object of his affections, I resolved thro’ the true principle of love to surrender the ultimate of my charms to make him happy: my embraces was all he wanted, and the utmost I could give, and if a prince would submit to take up with a player, I think on my side there was honour enough, without interest, to induce me to a compliance. I know I am old and past recovering an impair’d fortune, after the same manner that I first got it; but then consider what a small matter is sufficient to keep a superanuated grannum, past the pleasures of this life; warm cloathing and a few sugar-sops, what else can an old woman want, that is fit for nothing but to mumble over her prayers, or sit nodding in a chimney-corner like an old cat, when her company becomes as nauseous to all that are younger than herself, as a sober divine is to a prophane libertine? What conversation need she have besides one maid to exercise her lungs upon, and keep life’s bellows open? I am so far from repenting the loss of my estate, that I look upon’t my glory, and the only piece of carelesness I ever committed worth my boasting. It’s a pleasure to me to behold the vicissitude of fortune, and see her snatch that out of my hand, which before she had dropped into my mouth; besides, without a taste of poverty there can be no true repentance, for I always observe, affliction goes a great way in making a good christian. I have said my prayers within these few months, as heartily as ever I neglected ’em, and am often-times pleas’d I am grown poor, because it makes me the more pious: every fifty guineas I now lose, makes me when I come home, read a chapter in Job, and take his patience for my own example. The gold that I thus fling away, puts me in mind how sinfully it was got, and to that cause I ascribe the badness of my fortune. To be rich and godly, I have found very difficult, but to be needy and religious, is the easiest thing in the world, which inclines me to believe poverty and piety, are as great companions as impudence and ignorance, or love and jealousy; so that when I have lost all, perhaps I may take care to save myself, which will be much better, than like you to be damn’d with a full pocket. It often makes me laugh to see hungry quality, craving courtiers, as insatiate as the barren womb, how industrious they are to add to their own estates by the ruin of an old fornicatrix, who can part with her money as freely at one sport as she got it at another, and therefore desires you will rest but as quietly under your damnation, as she does under her losses, and she believes you will find yourself much easier: So,