"You would think me a malicious traveller, if I should still gaze on your mis-shapen Streets, and take no notice of the beauty of your River; therefore I will pass the importunate noise of your Watermen (who snatch at fares as if they were to catch prisoners, plying the gentry so uncivilly, as if they had never rowed any other passengers but Bear-wards), and now step into one of your pease-cod Boats, whose tilts are not so sumptuous as the roofs of Gondalo's, nor, when you are within, are you at the ease of _Chaise-a-bras_. The community and trade of your River belongs to yourselves; but give a Stranger leave to share in the pleasure of it; which will hardly be in the prospect or freedom of air, unless prospect consisting of variety be made with here a Palace, there a wood-yard, here a garden, there a brew-house. Here dwells a Lord, there a Dyer, and between both _Duomo Commune_. If freedom of air be inferred in the liberty of the subject, where every private man hath authority, for his own profit, to smoke up a Magistrate; then the air of your Thames is open enough, because it is equally free. I will forbear to visit your courtly neighbours at Wapping; not that it will make me giddy to shoot your Bridge, but that I am loth to disturb the _civil silence_ of Billingsgate, which is so great as if the Mariners were always landing to storm the Harbour; therefore, for brevity's sake, I will put to shore again, though I should be constrained, even without my Goloshoes, to land at Puddle-dock.