are to take, if they expect to come safe to the end of their Journey. And pray, said I, which way does he direct them, and how are they to govern themselves? Don't you see, says he, there by the Gate where the Crowd goes in, a Woman sitting in an Arm’d-chair handsomly dress’d, and with a Mien of Quality? I see her with a Glass in her Hand, pray who is she? That's Imposture, says he, that bubbles the whole World in some measure out of their Understandings. Say you so? Which way does she go to Work? She opens a Vein, and gives them a Glass of her Constitution: What sort of Drink is that? Tis Ignorance and Mistake. What is to be done then? Why, when they have taken this Stirrup Cup, they Travel into Life : What? Does every body take their Mornings Draught of this Liquor? Every body, but not all Brimmers, some drink more, and some less. To inform you farther, don’t you see a parcel of Wenches within the Gate, different enough in their Persons, but all of them with the bold Air of their Profession? I see them. Very well: If you would know their Names then, they are Opinion, Passion, and Pleasure. As the Crowd enters, these Lasses frisk about them, and salute them with a great deal of welcome, and then lag them
