That this was a fact is amply borne out by the testimony of Ned Ward, who managed to see most of what was going on in town, and he thus describes the sight in his rough, but vigorous language.
"With much difficulty we crowded upstairs, where we soon got intelligence of the beastly scene in agitation. At last a table was spread with a dirty cloth in the middle of the room, furnished with bread, pepper, oil, and vinegar; but neither knife, plate, fork, or napkin; and when the beholders had conveniently mounted themselves upon one another's shoulders to take a fair view of his Beastlyness's banquet, in comes the lord of the feast, disguised in an Antick's Cap, like a country hangman, attended by a train of Newmarket executioners. When a chair was set, and he had placed himself in sight of the whole assembly, a live Cock was given into the ravenous paws of this ingurgitating monster."
In the same year, in his "Walk to Islington," Ward gives a description of the people who frequented this "Musick House."
"---- mixed with a vermin trained up for the gallows, As Bullocks[30] and files,[31] housebreakers and padders.[32] With prize fighters, sweetners,[33] and such sort of traders, Informers, thief-takers, deer-stealers, and bullies."
It seems to have been kept by Francis Forcer, a musician, about 1725, and the scene at the Wells is graphically described in "The New River, a Poem, by William Garbott."
"Through Islington then glides my best loved theme And Miles's garden washes with his stream: Now F--r's Garden is its proper name, Though Miles the man was, who first got it fame; And tho' it's own'd, Miles first did make it known, F--r improves the same we all must own. There you may sit under the shady trees, And drink and smoak, fann'd by a gentle breeze; Behold the fish, how wantonly they play, And catch them also, if you please, you may, Two Noble Swans swim by this garden side, Of water-fowl the glory and the pride; Which to the Garden no small beauty are; Were they but black they would be much more rare: With ducks so tame that from your hand they'll feed, And, I believe, for that, they sometimes bleed. A noble Walk likewise adorns the place, To which the river adds a greater grace: There you may sit or walk, do which you please, Which best you like, and suits most with your ease. Now to the Show-room let's awhile repair, To see the active feats performed there. How the bold Dutchman, on the rope doth bound, With greater air than others on the ground: What capers does he cut! how backward leaps! With Andrew Merry eyeing all his steps: His comick humours with delight you see, Pleasing unto the best of company," &c.