THE
London-Spy.
PART V

Remarks upon a Picture-shop. On a Musick-shop. On a Blind Ballad-Singer. On St. Paul’s Church. On the Working of the Labourers there. On the Fire at St. Paul’s, and what Use the Dissenters make of it. On the Quire. A Country-mans Observation upon the Church. Remarks upon the People that Walk there. On the Woollen-Drapers Prentices. On the Prerogative-Office, with Obser­vations on Heraldry, &c. Upon a Popular Weasel; The Ecclesiastical Court, and Doctors-Commons; Ludgate; The Sessions-House in the Old-Baily, and Newgate. Remarks upon Smithfield-Market. On the Crown-Tavern at Duck-Lane-end. A Description of the Salesmen in Long-Lane, and a Curse upon them in Verse. Remarks on the Bear and Raggedstaff; on a parcel of Hog-Drivers; on the Sheep-pens; on the Lame-Hospital, and the Blew Coat Boys.

IN our Loitering Perambulation round the outside of St. Pauls, we came to a Picture-sellers Shop, where as many Smutty Prints were staring the Church in the Face, as a Learned Debauchee ever found in Aretine’s Postures. I Observ’d there were more People gazing at these loose Fancies of some Leacherous Graver, than I could see reading of Ser­mons at the Stalls of all the Neighbouring Booksellers. Among the rest of the Spectators, an Old Citizen had mounted his Spectacles upon his Nose, and was busily

peeping

peeping at the Bawdy Representation of the Gentle­man and the Milk-Maid. Pray Father, said I, what do you find in that Immodest Picture worth such serious Notice? Why, I’ll tell you, Young Man, says he, I can­not without wonder behold in this Painting the Madness and Vanity of you young Fellows, with what Confidence you can take a Bear by the Tooth, without the Dread of the Danger. I rather believe, said I, you gratified some sensual Appetite, by giving Titillation to your Vitious Thoughts, from the Obscenity of the Action. To which he reply’d, Indeed Mr. Inquisitive, you are much mistaken; but if thy Head had been where his Hand is, I should have view’d it with much more Pleasure, To have thought in what a pretty Condition thy Nose had been; And away he shuffled, with Compassion towards his Corns, as stiff as a Yorkshire Bullock into Smith­field Market, very Merry at his Jest; and chattering to himself like a Magpy that has Bilk’d a Gunner.

We Walk’d a little further, and came amongst the Musick Shops, in one of which were so many Dancing-Masters Prentices, Fiddling and Piping of Bories and Minuets, That the Crow’d at the Door cou’d no more forbear Dancing into the Shop, than the Merry Stones of Thebes could refuse capering into the Walls, when Conjur’d from Confusion into Or­der, by the Power of Orpheus’s Harmony. Amongst ’em stood a little Red-Fac’d Blade, beating Time up­on his Counter, with as much Formality, as if a Bar­tholomew-Fair Consort, with the assistance of a Jack-Pud­ding, had been ridiculing a Italian Sonetta in the Bal­cony, to draw People into the Booth; and was as Pro­digally Pert in giving his Instructions to the rest, as a Young Pedagogue Tutoring a Disciple in the hear­ing of his Father. We added two to the Number of Fools; and stood a little, making our Ears do Pen­nance to please our Eyes, with the Conceited Motions

of