And the same story of simplicity of amusement, and refreshment, is amusingly told in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for May, 1760, vol. xxx. p. 242, in a short poem by William Woty, the author of the "Shrubs of Parnassus, consisting of a variety of poetical essays, moral and comic, by I. Copywell, of Lincoln's Inn, Esq. 1760."

"_And to_ White Conduit _House We will go, will go, will go_."

The Fleet. Its Rivers, Prison, and Marriages — Part 30

"Wish'd Sunday's come--mirth brightens ev'ry face, And paints the rose upon the housemaid's cheek _Harriot_, or _Mol_ more ruddy. Now the heart Of prentice resident in ample street, Or alley, Kennel-wash'd _Cheapside_, _Cornhill_ Or _Cranborne_, thee, for calcuments renown'd, With joy distends. His meal meridian o'er, With switch in hand, he to _White Conduit_ house Hies merry hearted. Human beings here In couples multitudinous assemble, Forming the drollest groupe, that ever trod Fair Islingtonian plains. Male after male, Dog after dog, succeeding--husbands--wives-- Fathers and mothers--brothers--sisters--friends-- And _pretty little boys and girls_. _Around, Across, along_, the garden's shrubby maze, They walk, they sit, they stand. What crowds press on, Eager to mount the stairs, eager to catch First vacant bench or chair in _long-room_ plac'd. Here prig with prig holds conference polite, And indiscriminate, the gaudy beau, And sloven mix. Here _he_, who all the week Took bearded mortals by the nose, or sat Weaving dead hairs, and whistling wretched strain, And eke the sturdy youth, whose trade it is Stout oxen to contend, with gold bound hat, And silken stocking strut. The red-arm'd belle Here shews her _tasty_ gown, proud to be thought The butterfly of fashion: and, forsooth, Her haughty mistress deigns for once to tread The same unhallow'd floor. 'Tis hurry all, And ratling cups and saucers. Waiter here, And waiter there, and waiter here _and_ there, At once is call'd--_Joe--Joe--Joe--Joe--Joe-- Joe_ on the right--and _Joe_ upon the left, For ev'ry vocal pipe re-ecchoes _Joe_. Alas, poor _Joe_! Like _Francis_ in the play He stands confounded, anxious how to please The many-headed throng. But shou'd I paint The language, humours, customs of the place, Together with all curtsy's lowly bows,

The Fleet. Its Rivers, Prison, and Marriages — Part 30