The effect of the Queen's proclamation against Vice and Debauchery in 1703 is thus noticed by Observator in his 92d number; some of the customs of the lower classes may be collected from the quotation. He says, the Vintners and their wives were particularly affected by it, some of the latter of which "had the profit of the Sunday's claret, to buy them pins, and to enable them every now and then to take a turn with the Wine-merchant's eldest 'prentice to _Cupid's_[231:A] garden, or on-board the _Polly_[231:B]. The Whetters are very much disobliged at this Proclamation, who used on Sundays to meet on their parade at the Quaker's meeting-house, in Gracechurch-street, and adjourn from thence through the Tavern back-door to take a whet of white and wormwood, and to eat a bit of the Cook-maid's dumpling, and then home to their dinner with their dear spouses, and afterwards return to the Tavern to take a flask or two for digestion. They tell me, all the Cake-houses at Islington, Stepney, and the suburbane villages, have hung their signs in mourning: every little kennel of debauchery is quite dismantled by this Proclamation; and the beaux who sit at home on Sundays, and play at piquet and back-gammon, are under dreadful apprehension of a thundering prohibition of stage-playing." The Grand Jury, impanneled July 7, 1703, renewed their presentment against the Play-houses, Bartholomew-fair, &c. and clearly demonstrated that the elasticity of Vice had recovered from its temporary depression by the weight of Justice. Upon this presentment, _Heraclitus Ridens_ made the following observations, which will point out a new scene in the customs of the Londoners: "_Earnest._ But the Grand Jury tell you, in their presentment, that the toleration of these houses corrupts the City youth, makes them dissolute and immoral, and entices them to take lewd courses. "_Jest._ I am sorry to hear the Citizens' instructions bear so little weight with them, and am apt to think they are not so exemplary in their lives and conversations as they have been supposed to be. Would their masters keep a strict hand over them, there would be no reasons for complaints; and I dare be persuaded, there is more debauchery _occasioned by pretending to eat Custards_ towards Hampstead, Islington, and Sir George Whitmore's[232:A], in a week, than is possible to be brought about by a Playhouse in a twelvemonth." The reader of this work who has visited St. Paul's or Westminster-abbey within the present Century, will subscribe to the faithful representation of the manners of a certain class of Citizens, that seem to have survived the usual period of life, or have scrupulously transmitted them to their posterity, in a dialogue between Jest and Earnest, 1703[233:A]. "_Jest._ Certainly you have never been at St. Paul's. The flux of people there would cause you to make use of your handkerchief; and the largest Meeting-house in London bears no proportion to it.