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<title>The Spectator 217</title>
<header>
  <number>no. 217</number>
  <date>1711-11-08</date>
  <author>Eustace Budgell</author>
  <quotation>--------Tunc f&#230;mina simplex,</quotation>
  <quotation>Et pariter toto repetitur clamor ab antro.-Juv.</quotation>
  <translation>Juv. Sat. vi. 326.</translation>
  <translation>Then unrestrain'd by rules of decency,</translation>
  <translation>Th' assembled females raise a general cry.</translation>
  </header>
<text>
<paragraph>I SHALL entertain my Reader to-day with some Letters from my
Correspondents. The first of them is the Description of a Club,
whether real or imaginary I cannot determine; but am apt to fancy,
that the Writer of it, whoever she is, has formed a kind of
Nocturnal Orgie out of her own Fancy: Whether this be so or not,
her Letter may conduce to the Amendment of that kind of Persons who
are represented in it, and whose Characters are frequent enough in
the World.</paragraph>
<paragraph><italic>Mr.</italic> SPECTATOR,</paragraph>
<paragraph>In some of your first Papers you were
pleased to give the Publick a very diverting Account of several
Clubs and nocturnal Assemblies; but I am a Member of a Society
which has wholly escaped your Notice, I mean a Club of She-Romps.
We take each a Hackney-Coach, and meet once a Week in a large upper
Chamber, which we hire by the Year for that Purpose; our Landlord
and his Family, who are quiet People, constantly contriving to be
abroad on our Club-Night. We are no sooner come together than we
throw off all that Modesty and Reservedness with which our Sex are
obliged to disguise themselves in publick Places. I am not able to
express the Pleasure we enjoy from Ten at Night 'till four in the
Morning, in being as rude as you Men can be, for your Lives. As our
Play runs high the Room is immediately filled with broken Fans,
torn Petticoats, Lappets of Head-dresses, Flounces, Furbelows,
Garters, and Working-Aprons. I had forgot to tell you at first,
that besides the Coaches we come in our selves, there is one which
stands always empty to carry off our <italic>dead Men,</italic> for so we call all
those Fragments and Tatters with which the Room is strewed, and
which we pack up together in Bundles and put into the aforesaid
Coach. It is no small Diversion for us to meet the next Night at
some Member's Chamber, where everyone is to pick out what belonged
to her from this confused Bundle of Silks, Stuffs, Laces, and
Ribbons. I have hitherto given you an Account of our Diversion on
ordinary Club-Nights; but must acquaint you farther, that once a
Month we <italic>demolish a Prude,</italic> that is, we get some queer formal
Creature in among us, and unrig her in an Instant. Our last Month's
prude was so armed and fortified in Whalebone and Buckram that we
had much ado to come at her; but you would have died with laughing
to have seen how the sober awkward Thing looked when she was forced
out of her Intrenchments. In short, Sir, 'tis impossible to give
you a true Notion of our Sports, unless you would come one Night
amongst us; and tho' it be directly against the Rules of our
Society to admit a Male Visitant, we repose so much Confidence in
your Silence and Taciturnity, that 'twas agreed by the whole Club,
at our last Meeting, to give you Entrance for one Night as a
Spectator.</paragraph>
<paragraph><italic>I am,</italic></paragraph>
<paragraph><italic>Your Humble Servant,</italic></paragraph>
<paragraph>Kitty Termagant.</paragraph>
<paragraph>P. S. <italic>We shall demolish a Prude next Thursday.</italic></paragraph>
<paragraph>Tho' I thank <italic>Kitty</italic> for her
kind Offer, I do not at present find in my self any Inclination to
venture my Person with her and her romping Companions. I should
regard my self as a second <italic>Clodius</italic> intruding on the Mysterious
Rites of the <italic>Bona Dea,</italic> and should apprehend being <italic>Demolished</italic> as
much as the <italic>Prude.</italic></paragraph>
<paragraph>The following Letter comes from a Gentleman,
whose Taste I find is much too delicate to endure the least Advance
towards Romping. I may perhaps hereafter improve upon the Hint he
has given me, and make it the Subject of a whole <italic>Spectator;</italic> in the
mean time take it as it follows in his own Words.</paragraph>
<paragraph><italic>Mr.</italic> SPECTATOR,</paragraph>
<paragraph>It is my Misfortune to be in Love with a young Creature who is daily
committing Faults, which though they give me the utmost Uneasiness,
I know not how to reprove her for, or even acquaint her with. She
is pretty, dresses well, is rich, and good-humour'd; but either
wholly neglects, or has no Notion of that which Polite People have
agreed to distinguish by the Name of <italic>Delicacy.</italic> After our Return
from a Walk the other Day she threw her self into an Elbow-Chair,
and professed before a large Company, that <italic>she was all over in a
Sweat.</italic> She told me this Afternoon that her <italic>Stomach aked;</italic> and was
complaining Yesterday at Dinner of something that <italic>stuck in her
Teeth.</italic> I treated her with a Basket of Fruit last Summer, which she
eat so very greedily, as almost made me resolve never to see her
more. In short, Sir, I begin to tremble whenever I see her about to
speak or move. As she does not want Sense, if she takes these Hints
I am happy; if not, I am more than afraid, that these Things which
shock me even in the Behaviour of a Mistress, will appear
insupportable in that of a Wife.</paragraph>
<paragraph><italic>I am,</italic></paragraph>
<paragraph><italic>SIR,</italic></paragraph>
<paragraph><italic>Yours,</italic> &#38;c.</paragraph>
<paragraph>My next Letter comes from a Correspondent whom I cannot but very much
value, upon the Account which she gives of her self:</paragraph>
<paragraph><italic>Mr.</italic> SPECTATOR,</paragraph>
<paragraph>I am happily arrived at a State of Tranquillity, which few People
envy, I mean that of an old Maid; therefore being wholly
unconcerned in all that Medley of Follies which our Sex is apt to
contract from their silly Fondness of yours, I read your Railleries
on us without Provocation. I can say with <italic>Hamlet,</italic></paragraph>
<quotation><italic>--Man delights not me,</italic></quotation>
<quotation><italic>Nor Woman neither----</italic></quotation>
<paragraph>Therefore, dear Sir, as you never
spare your own Sex, do not be afraid of reproving what is
ridiculous in ours, and you will oblige at least one Woman, who is</paragraph>
<paragraph><italic>Your humble Servant,</italic></paragraph>
<paragraph>Susannah Frost.</paragraph>
<paragraph><italic>Mr,</italic> SPECTATOR,</paragraph>
<paragraph>I am Wife to a Clergyman, and cannot help thinking that in your Tenth or
Tithe-Character of Womankind<footnote name="(1)" url="../november_footnotes/footnote217.xml"></footnote>
you meant my self, therefore I have no Quarrel against you for the other Nine Characters.</paragraph>
<paragraph><italic>Your humble Servant,</italic></paragraph>
<paragraph>A. B.</paragraph>
<paragraph>X.</paragraph>

<paragraph>1. See No. 209.</paragraph>

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