Then leaves the ruin he himself has made,
Without one spark of gratitude display’d.
No pitying eye beholds the hapless fair,
She’s left to Death, Diseases, and Despair!
Nature cries out, and hunger must be fed,
She now must turn a prostitute for bread;
Her name is blasted, friendless left, and poor,
Tell me what can she do?—why be a WHORE.
Lew’d scenes, and lew’d discourse, comes next in play;
Deeds dark as night, asham’d to meet the day!