 will the Punishment?
    But if you can be so lost to all Sense of Fear, and of Shame, and of
Goodness, as not to be debarred by the Evil which you are to bring on yourself,
by the extreme Baseness of the Action, nor by the Ruin in which you are to
involve others, let me still urge the Difficulty, I may say the Impossibility of
the Success. You are attacking a Fortress on a Rock; a Chastity so strongly
defended, as well by a happy natural Disposition of Mind, as by the strongest
Principles of Religion and Virtue, implanted by Education, and nourished and
improved by Habit, that the Woman must be invincible even without that firm and
constant Affection of her Husband, which would guard a much looser and worse
disposed Heart. What therefore are you attempting but to introduce Distrust, and
perhaps Disunion between an innocent and a happy Couple, in which too you cannot
succeed without bringing, I am convinced, certain Destruction on your own Head?
    Desist, therefore, let me advise you, from this enormous Crime; retreat from
the vain Attempt of climbing a Precipice which it is impossible you should ever
ascend, where you must probably soon fall into utter Perdition, and can have no
other Hope but of dragging down your best Friend into Perdition with you.
    I can think of but one Argument more, and that indeed a very bad one: You
throw away that Time in an impossible Attempt, which might, in other Places,
crown your sinful Endeavours with Success.
    And so ends the dismal Ditty.«
    »D-n me,« cries one, »did ever mortal hear such d-nd Stuff?«
    »Upon my Soul,« said another, »I like the last Argument well enough. There
is some Sense in that: For d-n me if I had not rather go to D-g-ss at any Time,
than follow a virtuous B-- for a Fortnight.«
    »Tom,« says one of them, »let us set the Ditty to Musick; let us subscribe
to have it set by Handel, it will make an excellent Oratorio.«
    »D-n me, Jack,« says another, »we'll have it set to a Psalm Tune, and we'll
sing it next Sunday at St. James's Church, and I'll bear a Bob, d-n me.«
    »Fie upon it, Gentlemen, fie upon it,« said a Frier who came up, »do you
think there is any Wit and Humour
