Who knew the virtue of the fatal fruit.
But what’s a WHORE in life?—pray let us find,
If possible we can, among mankind.
A woman, who the worst of thoughts debase,
All void of shame, of decency, and grace;
One who for hire her person will dispose,
And take, for need, each passer-by that goes.
Is, then, necessity the only plea?
Ye sisters in high life, come tell to me;
High fed, high bred, high marry’d too, indeed,