Event Comment: TThe London Chronicle 1758 (p. 461): Having already read 
the play [
The London Cuckolds] it was no wonder if my inclinations to attend 
the exhibition of it were very small; however, being in some measure oblig'd to perform that penance, I paid my money and sat down in 
the pit, where I underwent three hours entertainment, if I may call it so, only to be rooted in a former opinion, that 
the author of this comedy deserved to be hanged; and that 
the only excuse which could be made for suffering it to be acted would be invincible stupidity.  This monstruous production of nonsense and obscenity, is 
the spawn of one 
Ravenscroft, a writer whose wit was as contemptible as his morals were vitious.  He does not seem to have had one sentiment ei
ther of a man of Genious of a gentleman, at least if we may judge by 
the characters he has daubed, which are a pack of reprobates of 
the lowest kind.  Nor are 
the things which look like incidents in this play 
the produce of his own invention, but 
the squeezings from an extravagant novel of 
Scarron, and two or three ill-chosen fables of 
LaFontaine; of which ingredients he has contrived to mix up a sort of hog-wash, sweetened with a few luscious expressions and a large portion of 
the grossest lewdness, to 
the palates of swine, or what is 
the same thing, men like 
them; but which must be odious to, and nauseated by all people of delicate taste, or common modesty.  
The three gallants in this comedy, 
Townly, 
Ramble and 
Loveit, never make 
their appearance upon 
the stage but to talk bawdy, and that in terms very little different from 
the most vagabond inhabitants of 
Covent Garden, nor do 
they make 
their exit but with a professed intention to commit adultery with one woman or ano
ther, who walks off with him very contentedly for that purpose.  I must here observe that adultery is committed no less than seven times during 
the five acts.  [
The play an insult to 
the London aldermen and 
their wives.]  
There were several men of distinction in 
the boxes at this play, and I think about eight ladies.  What 
their inward feelings might be I know not; but if one might judge of 
their thoughts by 
the gravity of 
their looks, 
they were ra
ther mortified than diverted.  But of 
the women of 
the town, who as we suppose were unwilling to let slip so fair an opportunity of getting a supper and a bed-fellow, 
there were crowds both in 
the pit and green boxes...