Islington-Wells; OR THE Threepenny = Academy.  
A POEM.  
— Equidem hoc studio bullatis ut mihi nugis, Pagina turgescat.—  
Perseus Sat. 5.  
LONDON, Printed for E. Richardson, 1691.   

Epistle Dedicatory.  
TO all Pretty young Girls, by a late saucy Pen,  
Exposed to an Auction as Matches for Men,  
Who to Lincolns-Inn-Walks, and the Park make their Pace  
To show their fine clothes, but their much finer Faces,  
And who frequently (cause they can do nothing else)  
With their Presence do Honour famed Islington-Wells.  
To all Ladies whose Portions are Thousands a Piece,  
From my Lord 's youngest Daughter to Alderman's Niec  
Who go thither as oft as Occasion requires,  
To Cool their young Bloods and Inflame their Desires.  
To all sorts of Wives (but most chiefly the Young)  
Who each Morning in Clusters to Islington Throng,  
And Drink Waters, as most Men the story believe,  
To render their Bodies more apt to Conceive;  
Tho both Ancient and Modern agree in the Matter.  
That a Chopping young Heir was ne'er got by thin Water  
But Opinion the Standard of all things below,  
●f she proves but with Child, let the Father guess How;  
For however we banter an Implicit Faith,  
We are bound to believe what our Bed-fellow saith.  
To all fine Dressing Beaus with their sparkish Long Wigs,  
To all brisk Lawyer's Clerks, and pert City young Prigs,  
Who having fine clothes must go thither to show 'em,  
Is humbly Presented This following Poem.   

Islington = Wells: OR, THE Threepenny-ACADEMY, etc.  

FEv'rish and Hot by Drinking Claret,  
(And where's the Mortal can forbear it?)  
All Pillow-consultations scorning,  
I left my Bed by Six i'th' Morning;  
About which time dull Sots are Snoring,  
And Sparks just rose from private Whoring;  
But being Dressed, I found the Curse,  
Of a hot Head and cooling Purse,  
My Guineas spent, my Angels flown,  
And nothing but a Clipped Half-Crown,  
(Which twinkling lay like Snuff in Socket)  
To keep the Devil from my Pocket:  
Then think how could a Scene of Pleasure,  
Be Purchased with so small a Treasure?  
Our Inclinations may be Sparkish,  
When Pocket at Low-water-mark is;  
But having racked my Pia Mater,  
For some cheap Mirth by Land or Water,  
At last could pitch on nothing else,  
But Islington's Renowned Wells,  
Where twice or thrice a Week most duly,  
In Months of May, June, August, July,  
The Doctor and his sly Jacall,  
Whom some the 'Pothecary call,  
Lawyers, Divines, Civilians, Quakers,  
Some Cuckolds, but more Cuckold-makers',  
Sharpers, Decoys, Trapans and Bullies,  
Designing Cracks and sneaking Cullies,  
Fine modish Sparks, and dressing Beau's,  
Who Charm the Women with their clothes;  
Ladies some chaste and others Common,  
Young, Old, and many other Women;  
The Tradesman and his lovely Spouse,  
Th' Enamoured Youth and's dear Queen Blouze,  
Tailors and other Trades which Rack  
Invention to Adorn the Back,  
Go there to make their Observation,  
Upon the Dresses of the Nation,  
Of either Sex whole Droves together,  
To see and to be seen flock thither,  
To Drink, and not to Drink the Water,  
And here promiscously they Chatter.   

'Twas Seven a Clock when I came thither,  
Serene the Air and Calm the Wether,  
Which Prophesied a Randezvous,  
Of Coquet Dames and Sparkish Beau's.  
As yet no Beauties filled the place,  
No, not so much as Coat with Lace;  
But five old Cits who walking, Blundred,  
And talked of Thirty in the Hundred,  
What Ships abroad were Bound for home,  
And that the Smyrna Fleet was come;  
How to put off their Musty Daughters,  
To Rich young Heirs, and such like Matters,  
Which did to me as Grateful prove,  
As Cats at Midnight making Love;  
So quickly out of Ear-shot getting,  
As loathing their Insipid prating,  
Planted myself in Arbour Green,  
So Shaded that I scarce was seen:  
So long I was not in that post Sir,  
As one might say his Paternoster;  
But in the Arbour next to me,  
I heard loud Noise of Ha, Ha, He,  
And louder yet the sound redoubles,  
From the shrill Throats of Female Trebles;  
I Peeped, and did most plainly see,  
Three Ladies Dressed Dishabillee,  
Who had, it seems, with other Women,  
Been at the Labour of a Seaman's Wife, who in the Pains of Childbirth,  
Cried out, her Fruit would be an ill-birth,  
Unless her Husband, first (to tell ye,)  
Had laid his Hand upon her Belly,  
Which done, was brought to Bed as well,  
As full Ripe Philbert dropped from Shell.  
But Lord! to hear their wild Descants,  
And most unheard uncommon Rants,  
Would make one Swear that Aristotle  
Would have Improved to hear their Tattle;  
Yet this we must not Baudry call,  
No, no, 'tis Philosophical:  
What they Obscene in us condemn,  
Is but mere Natural Talk with them.  
But in the midst of all their Laughing,  
I fell unluckily a Coughing,  
Which put them into such a Fright,  
As if they'd seen a Ghost or Spirit;  
Supposing there was no one near 'em,  
Perceiving I did over hear 'em,  
Clapped Vizors on, and amongst the Bushes,  
Hid both their Faces and their Blushes.   

By this time Company Repair,  
As thick as to a Wake or Fair:  
No Broacher of a New Religion,  
Nor Flatnozed Quack, nor Stage Physician,  
" Nor Indian King unto his Palace,  
" Nor Knots of Highwaymen to th' Gallows,  
More followers have ever known,  
Than come to Wells of Islington.   

First came an Old Grave Governant,  
With two Young Things, who called her Aunt,  
So Pert, so Innocent, and Pretty,  
Unpractized in the Tricks o'th' City:  
In each of which so lovely Creature,  
Was seen pure unadulterate Nature,  
Before she learned to Love by Rules,  
And make them more Accomplished Fools.  
Next came a Beau bedaubed with Lace,  
Conducting in with Damned Grimace,  
A Tawdry Punk in fluttering clothes,  
Whom you must Quality suppose;  
Then a Young Sempstress of th' Exchange,  
In an Undress so loose and Strange,  
That she was thought by every Man,  
To come from China or Japan.  
Two Sisters then so Dressed in strictness,  
That one was but the others Likeness.  
Next came three Scarlet-Coat Commanders,  
Newly Equipt to go for Flanders,  
Who had to show their Active Valours,  
Two Hours before well Kicked their Tailors,  
For giving Dun at Chamber Door,  
For clothes had of them Years before.  
A Doctor then with twirling Cane,  
Well skilled in each Disease and Pain,  
Which do the Corpse of Man Assail,  
From Crown of Head to Great-Toe-Nail,  
And can of all the Plants tell Stories,  
From Saffron down to Stinking Orrice.  
Next him a young spruce City Fop,  
Chief of a Linendrapers' Shop,  
With a Long-Wig and Tilter on,  
To make him look like Gentleman;  
And he might long for such have past,  
If he had not himself Disgraced,  
To show his mighty Wit and Skill in,  
Bantring upon a Lady's Linen,  
Who quickly Silenced the Pert Fop,  
By telling him 'twas bought at's Shop.  
Then half a Dozen of the Fry,  
Who can so neatly Cog a die,  
And all the Tricks and Customs know,  
Of the High-fullhams and the Low.  
A brace of Country 'Squires next enter,  
In chase of some unheard Adventure,  
Who thinking of themselves in Heaven,  
Steal off with Punks about Eleven,  
Who in few days the difference Scan,  
'Twixt Country Joan and City Nan  
Of Women next an Inundation,  
All dressed by strictest rules of Fashion,  
Who think by all their gay Attire,  
To set poor Mortals Hearts on Fire;  
But he deserves to have a Bib on,  
That's taken with the Charms of Ribbon,  
Or walk into the whining Road,  
Out of respect to Dressed Commode.  
Of Gentlemen a numerous store  
With Tickets, throng to reach the Door,  
Whose only Business and whose Trade is,  
Each day to Compliment the Ladies,  
Which they in words so finely can dress,  
They Can't forbear it to their Laundress;  
For using vulgar words and Phrases,  
Their Mouth most Inf'nitely Debases,  
To say they've Melancholy been,  
Is Bar'brous; no, they are Chagrin.  
To say a Lady's Looks are Well,  
Is common; no, her Air is Belle.  
If any thing Offends, the Wig  
Is tossed, and they're in such Fatigue:  
But now the Evidence to sum up,  
To such cheap Pleasures most can come up,  
And therefore 'twould be strange to Rob,  
Some topping Gentry of the Mob,  
Of the Diversion every Monday,  
To show clean Linen worn on Sunday,  
Especially if they're but Civil,  
(We must do Justice to the Devil)  
For their ill-shaped unfashioned clothes,  
May serve as Foils to set off Beans;  
So Blacks by Ladies standing seen,  
Heighten the Whiteness of their Skin.   

And now like Modern sort of Critics,  
By Ancients called Peripatetics,  
Walked sometimes hither, sometimes thither,  
Conferring learned Notes together;  
So here the Ladies keep a pother,  
In Censuring of one another.  
" Lord! Madam, did you ere behold,  
" Says one, a Dress so very Old?  
" Sure that Commode was made, I'faith,  
" In Days of Queen Elizabeth:  
" Or else it was Esteemed the Fashion  
" At Charles the Second Coronation;  
" The Lady by her Manteaus Forebody,  
" Sure takes a Pride to Dress like no Body,  
When at the very self same time  
She's taxed by others for the Crime,  
Of Dressing of her Head so High,  
As if she would with Steeples Vie,  
Or Rival with her Modish Skill,  
The Monument on Fishstreet-Hill;  
Nor can the Sparks themselves escape  
From Censures on their Mein and Shape;  
For clothes made Fashionably well,  
Not always can the Fop conceal:  
" Tho Nature made Man's Breast no Windows,  
" To Publish what he does within doors,  
As saith Immortal Hudibras,  
Yet one may plainly see an Ass,  
Discern a Fool, or view a Prig in  
All his accomplished Modes of Rigging.   

The Motions of the Wand'ring Stars,  
So talked of by Astrologers,  
Cannot be more Irregular,  
Than were the Mortal motions here;  
Some to the Well advance their pace,  
While others in a nameless place,  
In privacy demurely scatter  
The kind effects of Mineral Water.  
Some to the Raffling-shop advance,  
To see the strange effects of Chance,  
And view the Sparks with Spotted-bones,  
Lose both their Wits and Gold at once;  
Whilst others at the Royal-Oak,  
With lift-up Eyes good Luck Invoke.  
Much Pleasure sure must needs be had,  
To see Fulls, Halfs, and Quarters laid,  
To see a Town not far from Dover,  
Buttered with Megs and Smelts all over,  
It needs must make their Hearts all Merry,  
To hear the Ball Speak Canterbury.  
Others who would cheap Pleasures choose,  
To Coffee-house to Read the News  
Retire, and there devoutly Prate  
Of Luxemburgh and Catinat,  
And talk as briskly of Commanders,  
Who now are at their Posts in Flanders,  
As if in Heats and Colds and Rains,  
They'd passed together some Campaigns,  
When they had never crossed the Seas,  
But in a Map with Compasses:  
While others of Plebeian Fashion,  
Who thither came for Recreation;  
In Arbours closely shaded o'er,  
With climbing Shrubs and Sycamore,  
In mighty State themselves Regale,  
With Fly-Plumb-Cakes and Windy Ale.   

Incognito I passed along,  
Through all the Male and Female throng,  
Saluted by the Fragrancy  
Of Powder de Orange,  
Jesmine, Pulvil, and something else,  
Used to correct some worse smells.  
Till I arrived at Rails which him in  
This famous Well, where two Old Women  
Do kindly give the Water Gratis,  
(What nothing costs, at underrate is)  
There cooling of their Brains or Blood,  
A Knot of Sparks and Ladies stood;  
Tho 'tis believed upon the Matter,  
They better Coolers knew than Water.  
Some Doctors too, who gave Advice,  
(Most wonderful) without their Fees,  
Physicians being still of course,  
Our Body's dearest Confessors.  
The two young Ladies too were there,  
With their old Gouty Overseer,  
Who did more closely watch this Couple,  
Than Dragon did the Golden Apple:  
As in her Hand with half pint Glass,  
The youngest of them Drinking was,  
A Doctor comes with Humble Grin,  
Bending his Hams, and stroaking's Chin,  
And just against the Lady placed,  
Demanded how her Waters past:  
She (blushing Innocence) ashamed  
To hear so strange an Action named;  
Away with more confusion fled,  
Than if she'd seen the Gorgon's Head,  
And 'tis believed will come no more;  
So Amorous Sparks upon that score,  
Have lost her Beauty's Influence,  
By one Old Fool's Impertinence.   

The Music Plays, and 'tis such Music,  
As quickly will make me or you Sick;  
Nothing the Ears so sorely wounds,  
As ill scraped Notes and jarring Sounds;  
But they to give the thing a Grace,  
Had got three Trebles and a Base,  
With which (as Apes are often seen  
To imitate the acts of Men)  
So vainly these pretend to Play  
Some Lessons in the Opera,  
But still with much the same Success,  
As Quacks do when they would express  
Their Skill in Drugs, like Learned Physician,  
Or Signpost Painters copying Titian.   

'Twas now about the Hour of Ten,  
Precisely just the Minute when  
To Wells the Hackney-Coaches troth,  
As fast as Wasps to Honey-pot.  
One brings a Couple newly Married,  
As yet in neither's Love Miscarried,  
But Islington may prove to both  
Their Matrimonial Shibboleth.  
For he perhaps in Gazing round,  
Has some new Charming Mistress found,  
Whom he does 'fore his Wife prefer,  
So leaving Spouse makes Love to her,  
While she alone in pensive pace,  
Walking along so strange a Place,  
Is by some Spark of Dress and Carriage,  
Seduced from Vows of Holy Marriage,  
Liking his Modish soft Caresses  
Above her Husband's forced Addresses,  
And so contrives that very Morning  
A Plot for Poverty and Horning.  
Another Hackney-Coach does Rattle,  
Crowded with Taudry Female Cattle,  
Who thither come in haste to meet  
Some choice He-friend from Norfolk-street,  
Thence highly to Oblige their Pockets,  
To go and Dine with them at Lockets.  
Then in a Coach as fine as may be,  
Comes old Sir Fumble and his Lady,  
With the Green-sickness thing their Daughter,  
Who thither comes to Drink the Water,  
Although 'tis plainly understood,  
Something would do her much more good.  
Then in Guilt-Coach with fine Device  
Comes in the Spruce Sir Courtly Nice,  
Who is with Ladies all Men know  
The very Pam at Lanktraloo;  
A petty Chance to some may fall,  
But he's the Knave that Picks up all.  
To crown the Mornings Work at last,  
Come in some Men with seeming haste,  
Conducting in with Dam'd Grimaces,  
Six Women with fine Wainscot Faces,  
By which it was not hard to guests,  
Th'were French Men and their Mistresses,  
Who in all places of Resort,  
Appear to make their public Court:  
Our English Breeding they condemn,  
For we are Clowns compared with them:  
They walk before their Ladies bare,  
To show their reverence for the Fair,  
Tho 'tis Indecent, some Men have said,  
All people Love not smell of Calf's Head;  
Besides so very loud they Prattle,  
That Petticoat Subburbian Cattle,  
Half Drunk at Christen cannot bray  
With half such noise and din as they.   

And now the Plot begins to thicken,  
For Sparks with Inclination stricken,  
Make Love to every Face they meet,  
And all with like Affection treat.  
Each Lady is their Mistress known,  
And every Man their Rival grown;  
But did they earnest Love pursue,  
Heaven knows what Bloodshed might ensue;  
That Passion is not in their Power,  
They'll trifle with't for half an hour,  
And very well the Ladies know  
To what inconstant God they bow,  
So treat with Raillery their Discourse,  
And Laugh at all their feigned Amours.   

'Twas now about the Hour Eleven,  
When the bright Sun, who looked from Heaven  
Had sure forgot his former Duty,  
And began to Scorch the Lady's Beauty;  
Most to avoid his saucy Scorching,  
To Room designed for Dancing, march in,  
And seat themselves on several Benches,  
(Like Soldiers at a Siege in Trenches)  
Expecting when the Sparks advance,  
To take them out for Country Dance;  
Each by himself with Wonder stairs,  
And none to take a Lady dares:  
Indians were not surprised more,  
To see the Spaniards on their Shore;  
So these spruce Prigs admire the Sight,  
But dare not come to closer Fight.  
The Ladies wondering what the Sight meant,  
(As Women hate a Disappointment)  
Went from their Seats, and by their Frowns,  
Expressed their Hatred of the Clowns.   

Six hours thus Idly thrown away,  
In what was neither Work nor Play,  
(Yet'tmust be owned the Vanity  
Had very much Variety)  
Musing on what I'd seen and heard,  
My Honest Friend H. N. appeared,  
" Come leave, says he, or I'll Condemnye,  
" This Noisy Dressing Academy,  
" This place of empty boyish Prattle,  
" And go with me and crack a Bottle:  
I likeed the Motion, and we met  
With Glass of Rare in Grace-Church-Street;  
Finding our Wine was very good  
To cheer the Heart and warm the Blood,  
We stayed till Six, and chewed the Cud.   
FINIS.