8
With ribbons, ruffles, rings and fans,
capuchins, and foreheads bare.
Our ſervant-maids they are ſo proud,
they do reſemble their Ladies near,
They have ſo many madlike dreſſes,
they ſcarce can tell now what to wear.
Paints and patches for their faces,
in the faſhion they muſt be,
The pooreſt wife in all the town
each morning ſhe muſt drink her tea.
Our men are grown ſo void of reaſon,
they often leave their wedded wives,
Chuſing rather to keep a Miſs,
they're wearied of the married life.
Women for to leave their huſbands,
is not that a double ſin?
Enough to bring us on a judgement,
and conſume the land we're in.
(illegible text) grant us peace and unity,
for now the world ſeems at an end;
When each one hates and cheat another,
yea, tho' he were his near friend.
FINIS.
