The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony: Responses From Women

In Short

This collection presents a spirited, anonymous literary exchange from the early 1700s, reflecting the era’s fascination with social satire and the battle of the sexes. Through a series of rhyming responses, various voices—claiming to be whores, maids, and cynical observers—argue over the merits and miseries of marriage versus the single life. It has lasted as a curious, unfiltered artifact of Restoration and Augustan-era culture, capturing the period’s sharp, often bawdy wit and its preoccupation with the precarious economic and social standing of women in London.

The Story

The cycle begins as a defiant response to a hypothetical (and likely real) text titled The Fifteen Comforts of Whoring. The speakers, identifying themselves as "Ladies of Pleasure," reject the moralizing tone of their critics. They argue that the life of a courtesan is a rational, albeit harsh, trade—a necessary response to the hypocrisy of men who claim to despise "laced mutton" while actively seeking it out. They paint a world of transactional encounters, where the pox and the lash are simply the risks of a business that thrives on the fleeting desires of the "wiser sex."

The narrative shifts abruptly with The Fifteen Plagues of a Maidenhead, where a new voice laments the "green-sickness" and social stagnation of being a virgin. Here, maidenhood is framed as a prison of boredom and physical frustration, a state of being "discontented up" that leaves a woman pale, wan, and desperate for an escape—even if that escape leads to the "stews." This speaker is convinced that the only cure for her misery is the touch of a man, and she views her virginity as a burdensome "plague" that prevents her from participating in the vibrant, if dangerous, adult world.

The cycle continues with The Maids Vindication, which reclaims the narrative for those who choose a single life. This speaker dismisses the "plagues" of virginity as a foolish trap. Instead, she turns the critique toward the institution of marriage, describing the husband as a "constant jailor" and a "domineering thing." She advocates for a female commonwealth, a sisterhood that recognizes the deceit inherent in men's oaths and vows to shun them entirely.

Finally, in The Fifteen Pleasures of a Virgin, the author attempts a pivot toward a more "modest" stance, offering a retrospective apology for the earlier bawdiness. Yet, even here, the tone remains jagged. The speaker navigates the dangers of the London streets, where fops and scoundrels lurk in the parks, and concludes that while she will avoid the "whirling" traps of common vice, she holds out for a "man of wit and sense." The cycle ends not with a resolution, but with a firm, weary assertion of personal agency, leaving the reader to witness the exhausting, repetitive nature of these public arguments.

How It Unfolds

The defiant retort The voices of the "ladies of pleasure" emerge to challenge the moralists who condemn them. They argue that their profession is a legitimate response to the insatiable, hypocritical lust of the men who frequent their houses.

The frustration of the maid The perspective shifts to a young woman who views her virginity as an illness of the blood. She catalogs her suffering, comparing her state to the trials of a prisoner or a shipwrecked traveler who finds no relief.

The critique of the husband The argument widens to attack the institution of marriage itself. The husband is cast as a jealous, drunken tyrant whose presence at home is a constant, suffocating nuisance.

The call for sisterhood A new voice suggests that women should form a defensive alliance against the "foppish sex." This section argues that the only way to avoid the traps of marriage or the dishonor of the street is to reject men entirely.

The final pivot The collection closes with a self-conscious attempt to reclaim a more virtuous tone. The author walks back the earlier ribaldry, yet continues to portray the world as a place where a woman must exercise extreme caution to preserve her reputation.

The People

The book is populated by archetypes rather than rounded characters, serving as mouthpieces for the era’s clashing ideologies. The "Whore" is pragmatic and worldly-wise; she views men as "bubbles" to be exploited for her own economic survival. She is hardened by the "claps and poxes" of her trade but retains a cynical, biting humor toward the men who pay for her company.

The "Maid" who suffers from the "plagues" of her state is the most vulnerable figure. She is defined by her restlessness and a desperate, almost comedic desire to lose her virginity, which she views as the only barrier to her maturity. She is impatient with the "unperforming blockheads" she meets and is easily swayed by the romantic promises that the more seasoned women warn against.

The "Vindicator" is the most intellectual of the group. She acts as the voice of caution, dissecting the power dynamics of the household and identifying the husband as a "jailor." She stands apart from the others, arguing that the true path to dignity lies in the rejection of both the marriage bed and the "stews." Finally, the "Apologetic Author" attempts to bridge these worlds, struggling to reconcile a desire for social respectability with the witty, bawdy instincts that first fueled the writing. Each of these figures ends up differently: some are resigned to the harsh realities of the trade, while others advocate for a total withdrawal from the reach of men.

In Its Own Voice

"Clap, clap ye Whores, Clap as Clap can, Some Clap to Women, we'll Clap the Men."

The ladies of pleasure offer this rallying cry in their preface, turning the threat of disease into a defiant, rhythmic act of retaliation against their male customers.

"A proud insulting dominering thing, Abroad a subject, but at Home a King, There he in State does Arbitrary Reign, And lordlike pow'r do's o'er his wife maintain."

The Vindicator provides this sharp summary of the marital power dynamic, characterizing the husband as a tyrant who views his wife as mere property.

"I'm daily plagu'd with some Penurious Cit, But e'er I will to such be forc'd to yield, To a Man of Sense I Will resign the Field."

In the final section, the speaker asserts her preference for a "man of wit," demonstrating that even in her search for independence, she remains focused on the social and intellectual disparity between herself and her suitors.

What It's Really About

Underneath the rhyming insults and the bawdy humor lies a profound anxiety regarding female autonomy in the 18th century. The book asks a singular, pressing question: where can a woman find security in a society where marriage is a form of domestic imprisonment, and the alternative is a precarious life of social stigma? The texts grapple with the reality that, regardless of the path chosen, a woman’s worth is perpetually defined by her relationship to men. The central argument is not truly about the "comforts" of one lifestyle over another, but about the lack of genuine freedom afforded to women, forcing them to adopt masks of defiance, cynicism, or feigned virtue just to survive the "foppish" world around them.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the sharp, transgressive energy of eighteenth-century satire will find this book a fascinating window into a vanished world. It captures the raw, argumentative pulse of London life—a place where the gap between public morality and private behavior was a constant source of friction. The writing is repetitive and at times abrasive, reflecting the cyclical nature of the pamphlet wars it sprang from; it does not offer a coherent philosophy, but rather a cacophony of competing voices.

Modern readers should be prepared for the period’s casual misogyny and its blunt, often crude language regarding sex and disease. These are not polished essays, but the frantic, urgent utterances of a culture that was deeply uncertain about its own social codes. The value of this work lies in that lack of polish—the way it captures the desperation and the sharp-tongued resilience of women who were navigating a world that offered them very few options. It is a challenging, sometimes uncomfortable read, but it provides a vivid, firsthand look at the gender politics of the early 1700s, stripped of modern sentimentality and presented with the biting, unapologetic honesty of the era.