Mrs. Charlotte F—ne, No. 41, King Street, Soho.
To tell the beautie's of the place,
How weak is human tongue;
The noble fringes which it grace,
In golden ringlets hung.
Charlotte received a good education, and was once far above the perambulating class of nymphs, and might, perhaps, have remained so, had not her violent attachment to the curs'd buckle and belt society, rendered her disgusting in the eyes of all her friends; Mr. G—bl—t, brother to a tallow chandler, of Carnaby-Market, took particular notice of her, and removed her once from her hated crew, allowed her a tolerable provision, and would have continued her friend, had not her rage for the old society made him forfeit his esteem. She is now rather in the wane, having seen at least twenty-eight summers, tall, and very well proportioned; her complexion is but indifferent, but, being a native of Germany, is not to be wondered at; she speaks French also, but we cannot get her to confess she has been ten years on the town, unless you pay her a guinea fee for confessing.