For to what shelter can they fly? Only to the
arms of their betrayer, which, perhaps, are now no longer open to
receive them; and then how quick must be the transition from deluded
virtue to shameless guilt, and from shameless guilt to hopeless
wretchedness?
The anguish that I felt, left me no rest till I had, by your means,
addressed myself to the publick on behalf of those forlorn creatures,
the women of the town; whose misery here might satisfy the most rigorous
censor, and whose participation of our common nature might surely induce
us to endeavour, at least, their preservation from eternal punishment.
These were all once, if not virtuous, at least innocent; and might still
have continued blameless and easy, but for the arts and insinuations of
those whose rank, fortune, or education, furnished them with means to
corrupt or to delude them. Let the libertine reflect a moment on the
situation of that woman, who, being forsaken by her betrayer, is reduced
to the necessity of turning prostitute for bread, and judge of the
enormity of his guilt by the evils which it produces.
It cannot be doubted but that numbers follow this dreadful course of
life, with shame, horrour, and regret; but where can they hope for
refuge: "_The world is not their friend, nor the world's law_.
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