By HERCULES MAC-STURDY, of the County of Tiperary, Esq;


Spectatum veniunt, veniunt spectentur ut ipsae
—O Fortuna ut nunquam perpetuo es bona!

PRINTED FOR A. MOORE, near St. Paul's, and Sold at the Pamphlet-Shops of London and
Westminster. Price One Shilling

To please two Punks, who freely share their Bounties;
Mercantile one, and one a rampant Countess,
Who taste, without reserve, each tempting Joy
And whom Love's luscious Banquet ne'er can cloy;
Our Vehicle prepar'd at Whitehall Stairs,
And both the Whores deckt out in all their Airs;
Lolling in State with one on either Side,
And gently falling, with the Wind and Tide;
Last Night, the Evening of a sultry Day,
I sail'd, triumphant, on the liquid Way,
To hear the Fiddlers of Spring-Gardens play;
To see the Walks, Orchestra, Colonades;
The Lamps and Trees in mingled Lights and Shades.
The Scene so new, with Pleasure and Surprise,
Feasted awhile our ravished Ears and Eyes.
The motley Croud we next with Care survey,
The Young, the Old, the Splenetic and Gay:
The Fop emasculate, the rugged Brave,
All jumbled here, as in the common Grave.
Here sat a Group of 'Prentices, and there
The (1) awkard Daughters of a late Lord Mayor;
Next them a Country Bumpkin and his Cousin,
And, stuck about, Red-Ribbon'd Knights a Dozen;
Like ruddy Pinks, or Gilly-flowers in Pots;
'Mongst Bawds, and Rakes, and Sempstresses and Sots.

          Here sits my Lord with Vest of Gold emboss'd;
And there his Taylor sighing for the Cost.
One Month will see him to that Prison sent
Where, six Months pass'd, his Lordship's (2) Butcher went.
His Children starving on the Parish Care,
My Lord has left them now no better Fare.
No Matter—tho' he's in the Butcher's Books,
His Bills unpaid, not so his new French Cooks;
Besides my Lord, when he was to be paid,
Had lost six Hundred Pounds at th' Masquerade.
Had given Faranelli fifty more,
And laid out twenty in a Monkey for his Whore.
What are to him the Pangs of Vulgar Souls!
No thought of those a Noble's Joys controuls.
Let petty Cheats, who drive in humble Hack,
Dread Duns, they've no Protection to their Back.
But to return, and ramble round the Gardens,
His Lordship's Morals leave, not worth five Farthings.

          And meet (3) two Parsons, kept at constant Hire,
Domestick Chaplains of my Landlord T- - - - -,
Who, waddling with a Load of Guts before 'em,
Are, by their holy Looks to keep Decorum.
For whatsoe're the Doctors do in private,
No open Vice, but one,* they will connive at.

          The doating Cit here hugs his wanton Wife,
Calls her his Sweeting, Fubsey, Duck and Life,
Nor grudges Ham, tho' (4) fourteen Pence an Ounce,
Whilst Horns she's making o'er the Cuckold's Sconce:
But to the Captain gives such am'rous Leers,
As shew her Heart in his, and not her Dear's.
Tho' to this Grocer but two Winters wed,
Three 'Prentices at Home have shar'd his Bed;
Abroad six honest Countrymen of mine;
And of the Army Blades some thirty-nine.

          See yonder gay Flirtilla laughing walk,
And with embroider'd Strephon seems to talk;
Each Syllable she utters, hollows loud,
She answers him, but speaks to all the Croud.
This Couple for each other are design'd,
But she is making Love to all Mankind.
And he, whose only View in Wedlock's Pelf,
Can find no Charms in any but Himself.
The dear, dear Looking-Glass, his sole Delight,
No others Eyes so black, no Teeth so white.

          Next these is haughty Zara, moving slow,
The Company, she says, are mean and low:
Wonders, Good Heaven! how she chanc'd to come,
'Mong such a Mob, so very far from Home:
This may seem decent Pride - but not to all,
'Cause some have known her Father's Cobling (5) Stall.

          Observe with what a fond paternal Care,
Yon courteous Knight beholds his Son and Heir;
Pleas'd with his stupid Look, in Rapture cries,
In Time this Boy'll teach Wisdom to the Wise!
His Brilliant Parts in Time shall Nations glad;
In short, he'll be the Picture of his Dad,
My Lady laughing in her Sleeve this while,
Casts on the real Dad an am'rous Smile;
But's somewhat shock'd her Hero to explore,
Pent up in (6) Coop with forty Footmen more:
Oh that I were, cries she, with honest Saul,
Taller than other Men, or with 'em all!
But barr'd from thence she turns her View,
On the smug Waiter, with his Apron blue;
The painted Tin upon his rising Crest,
Pleases her Sight, and warms her am'rous Breast.
Not the blue Ribbon, with fam'd Edward's Star,
Can with this Tapster's Clout and Badge compare,
At Home, perhaps, with more than common Joy,
She'll hug her Knight, whilst dreaming of this Toy.
He to reward her Love, and keep it still,
Next Morn presents some Jewel or some Bill,
This sold or chang'd, Eftsoons a Part is sent
To Tom, who guess'd last Night, at what she meant.
An Assignation's made by trusty Nancy,
Unless some other Slave first strikes her Fancy.

          The Knight, his Lady and their hopeful Son,
Thus reconnoitred, let us now pass on,
And fix'd our Eyes upon a (7) Man of Worship,
Who runs a-muck, and worries Men, as Curs Sheep.
Who gets by daily Warrants daily Bread,
The Benches Honour, and his Neighbour's Dread.
Emblem of Justice! ruling in the Dark,
Who neither reads nor writes but sets his Mark,
And leaves all learned Drudg'ry to his Clerk.
This Man who traded once in Soap and Candles,
Now all the Business of his Parish handles,
Handles indeed! but roughly you may say,
And, to increase his Wealth, makes Beggars pay.
No Stocks nor Whipping-Post but can declare
His Mercy to all Wretches in Despair.

          What Grizzly Forms are these, who Centry stand,
With glouting Looks, and Mopstick in one Hand?

Priests of DIANA, set to guard the Grove
'Gainst VENUS and her Son, the God of Love:
For such the furious Heat of English Dames,
And such the Swains ungovernable Flames,
That yet they any how but under Shelter,
Shameless! they'll all go to it helter skelter.

          See modest Fulvia, how demure she sits!
One Word indecent throws her into Fits;
The Touch of Man will discompose her quite,
Yet in the Water she indur'd the Sight,
Nor could the Fan display'd conceal her strong Delight.
With Head oft turning to the fading Shore,
She looks, and looks, till she can see no more;
Unless some other Triton of the Flood
Starts up to charm her with a Scene as good.
Again her Eye-Balls roll, her Soul's on Fire,
Nor Thames himself can quench her hot Desire.
With Fulvia's Modesty exactly suits
The Virtue of her Brothers, those two Brutes,
Who,(8) both in Places, each a large Estate,
Behold their Father thro' a Prison-Grate.

          Of swarthy JEWS, next these, a greasy Croud,
Against Extortion are declaiming loud;
'Tis hard to give a Shilling none knows why,
The wet was right, but damn the Shilling dry.
The Thing's too serious to be nam'd in Scoff,
'Twas just put on when't should be taken off.
Musick may be, perhaps, of Love the Food,
But right old
Port or Florence Wine's as good.
They wonder'd what the Christian Jew could mean!
But had these stiff-neck'd Israelites e'er seen,
And seen, could any how contrive to read
The (9) cogent Reasons why this Law's decreed;
They'd own them full of Truth, and Wit, and Sense;
And far out-doing Tully's Eloquence:
The Vaux-hall Style so pure, no Sentence harsh,
That Rome and Athens now must yield to Lambeth-Marsh.
Rot his Reas'ning (cries Friend Abr'ham,) all Stuff!
Forge Tickets in ten Minutes! Time enough.
Then to proclaim his Waiters Rogues aloud!
Why not? You'll find more Rogues among the Croud.
Your Pocket may be pick'd by some (10) lac'd Lord;
If so, the Caution's good, and safe's the Word.

          But why this Rout about a lousy Shilling?
Keep out, and sh----t, cries T-- if you're not willing.
In England now can Musick be too dear,
The Fiddles of all Italy transplanted here?
They strive to charm not Souls that grudge their Chink:
And Musick ne'er was fram'd for Men who think:
Or would so many thoughtless Boobies run
To squeaking Op'ra's till they're half undone?
Or Ladies worship Farri as a God?
Who, say some Criticks, rather is a Rod,
Or Scourge to lash the Follies of the Age,
And drive all Sense and Virtue from the Stage.


[Transcribed from British Library, 840.m.5]

(1) These Ladies have exposed themselves pretty much of late.

(2) This Story is too well known to need any Explanation.

(3) Two Reverend Gentlemen are commonly walking there; but what is said of their being the House Chaplains, may be apocryphal.

* It's thought the Author by that one means HYPOCRISY

(4) This is pretty near the Price

(5) Not far from Newgate-Street

(6) A Kind of Kennel made on purpose for the Footmen

(7)It may not be safe to mention his Name

(8) One in the Army

(9) Vide, London Daily Post

(10) We have heard of a certain P--r, who stole a Bank Bill of one Hundred Pounds












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