A Farther Search AFTER CLARET; OR, A Second Visitation OF THE VINTNERS. A POEM.
Nature has made Man's Breast no Windores,
To Publish what he does within Doors.
Hudibras,
Cant. 2
d
London, Printed for E. Hawkins, 1691.
THE Epistle Dedicatory.
TO all
Master Vintners residing in
London,
And
Westminster, both to the
Rich and the
Undone.
VVho when
Wines are grown sick, and have
Workings amain,
Can with
Caudle of Eggs to Life fetch 'em again;
And when with a
Flying Lee troubled, with
Allum,
Bay-Salt, and
White-Starch, to their Sense can recall 'em;
VVho when
Clarets are
Ropy, and apt to be Muddy,
Can with
Spirit of Wine make 'em leave their brown Study;
VVho when
French Wines are
Eager and just about
Pricking,
VVith
Allum and
Flanders-Tile make 'em leave
Kicking.
VVho with
Racking, Infusing, and
Clarification,
Play some delicate Tricks with the
Wine in this Nation.
To all
Female Bar-keepers, Young, Airy and Pretty,
VVhether
Widows, Wives, Maids, Pert, Brisk Merry and VVitty,
VVho can
Banter young
Fops, of their Mony and Reason,
VVith a
Wit, which like
Beauty is ne're out of Season.
To those Riddles of Men, whom we
VVine-Coopers call,
Neither
Merchants nor
Vintners, and yet they are all;
Who with
Peggs, Peircers, Addice, and large pair of
Bellows
In their Vaults would be thought to be very
good Fellows.
To all the choice Lads who are
Cellar-men known,
Who visit the
Hogsheads when Company
's gone.
To all
Dealers in
Wine, of what Figure or Fashion,
Is Humbly Presented This new
Visitation.
A Farther Search AFTER CLARET, &c.
HOw hard of pleas'd Custom we take our farwel!
For next morning, no sooner I got from my
Cell,
But a Friend to the
Bottle who never knew sorrow,
With a look undisguis'd, kindly bid me good-morrow,
And told me, that since we so luckily met,
Would I lend him my company down to
Thames-street,
He'd at
Billingsgate give me a
Glass of such
VVine,
As should make even
Envy for get to repine:
But tho I under strong prejudice lay,
Yet was willing to make one more daring essay.
Tho two days disappointed, accepted his motion,
So yeilding my Person up to his Devotion,
Went with him.— As
Girls who the Sport once have seen,
Think ev'ry day ten, till they'r at it agen.
I.
His Business dispatch'd, we first went to the
Vine,
To see from those Grapes we could press
Claret VVine,
But the Master it seems was an arch pickl'd Youth,
And assur'd us his
Vine was of
Portugal growth,
Withal that the
Spies were so Termegant grown,
He hardly could say that his Soul was own.
II.
At the
Dog when we thought to have tasted a Pint,
VVe perceiv'd that its Owners were fled to the
Mint.
III.
VVe'd have call'd at the
Swan, but the Pious good Master,
VVho was half Mad with Rage by a foolish Disaster,
For receiving a Message from
Fumblers-Hall,
Did in Passion the Fishwomen loudly out-baul.
IV.
VVhen at the
Kings-head we observ'd loaded Spits,
Full of
Beef, Veal and
Mutton, and such kind of Bits;
VVe concluded good
Claret to find not a drop,
In a
Tavern, when alter'd into a
Cooks-shop.
V.
When we entred the
Gun, and arriv'd at the Bar,
More confusion of Tongues did old
Babel ne're hear;
Some
Singing, some
Dancing, some
Swearing, some
Roaring,
Some
Ranting, some
Drinking, some
Gaming, some
VVhoring,
Such a Medly of Noises, like strings out of Tune,
Made both of us quickly afraid of the
Gun.
VI.
Half stun'd with the noise, and opprest with dull thinking,
Came to Mannerly Tavern kept by brisk Mr.
J—kin,
As active a Lad as e're lay by the side
Of a Woman, if this be not true, Ask his Bride.
When we saw
pretty Females come up to the Bar,
With
pray Madam, is Mr.
such a one here?
Has any one been here to ask Number Four?
VVe thought it most safe for to go out of Door,
For the sight of these
Petticotes spoyl'd our design,
VVe then having more fancy for
VVomen than
VVine,
VII.
At the
Fleece when for
Claret we askt the young Spark,
He assur'd us 't had long been at
Low-water-Mark.
VIII.
At the
Mermaid we found
Six fat
Oyster-wives sitting,
Who over cool
Quarterns were smoaking and spitting,
And loudly discoursing the price of
Old-Ling,
And so nauseously talk'd of another
old Thing,
That our Stomachs quite turn'd, valued Wine not a farthing,
And so bid good morrow to Mr.
Churchwarden.
IX.
To the Sign of the
Golden round O, when we came,
And for
Claret inquir'd of a stately fine Dame;
We found her so busie in dressing of Fish,
That her very looks seem'd to answer us,
Pish;
But to her proud humour not willing to stoop,
Like
Juglers, we cleaverly jumpt through the
Hoop.
X.
When for
Claret at
Cl—fftons we askt at the
Swan,
We were star'd at as if we came just from
Japan.
XI.
At the
Monument when we for
VVine made pretence,
VVe found it was fallen in the literal Sense.
XII.
The Vintner who kept the bright
Sun but of late,
Had for
Phaeton's Fancy, met
Phaeton's Fate.
XIII.
From the
Bear at
Bridg-foot, to the
Bear on the
Hill,
Captain
S—th is arriv'd, and is Captain
S—th still;
When from
Burrough he came to reside in the City,
Thus made his loud Brags, and I'faith very witty:
"The Bear shall bite the Bull, and make the Half-moon-cry,
"Sink the Ship, and Drink the three Tuns dry.
But when of his
Claret an essay we had made,
Like his boastings, we found they were
Rhotom antade.
XIV.
How splendid soever the Sign may appear
Of the
Guilded three Tuns, yet we found it as clear;
Bad
Wine in fine Hogshheads, as often may lurch,
As a falsified Faith in a fine painted Church.
XV.
To the
Ship then we steer'd with a steddy brisk Gale,
Where of good
Old dry Claret we thought not to fail;
And I'faith Jolly
Tom. to thy praise we must own,
Thou hast it, if that there be any in Town;
For no Copy did nearer th' Original appear,
Than was like to
Claret the
Wine we drank there:
But Opinion and Fancy Rules all things below,
If we thought the
Wine good, it was certainly so.
XVI.
The returns both of good and of evil Success,
Make Life still appear like a Game plaid at
Chess:
How well at
Tom. F—ders we thought we were sped,
Yet found we as meanly were us'd at
Bull head.
XVII.
How vainly so e're the
Red-Lyon may crack,
Of the once mighty friendship he had with
Puntack;
Yet we found all his Favours were come to an end,
Since the Contracts he made with a
Portugal Friend.
XVIII.
At
A—ys the
Tip-cat who lives at
Great James,
Is a Tavern has always been in the extreams;
One while his
Wine's poor, at another time rich,
Let my very good Reader go Tast and try which.
XIX.
At the sign of
Old Bess has no
Parrot been seen
For this several Months, and
so God save the Queen.
XX.
Passing then through the
Gate, we soon reacht the
White-hart,
Where there once liv'd a
Landlord who never would start
From his
Bottle, but still with the latest would stay,
And did sometimes perform his three Stages a day;
But since
H—lock is dead, and his head under-ground,
In his Vaults is a strange lawless Government found;
Had he now been alive he'd have blusht with disgrace,
T'have seen his
Wines pimpled as once was his Face.
XXI.
It was now near
Exchange time, so posting along
Through the Gate back again, when we came by the throng,
My freind would have had me to stept in at
G—ys,
But I told him I had an aversion to noise;
Why then (says he) we to the
Angel and Crown,
Just in
Thred-needle-Street, for a while will sit down.
But when I attempted to take in the Drench,
I perceiv'd that the
Wine had forgot to speak
French.
XXII.
At the
Antwerp what ever is
Eu—ter's pretension,
His Tavern is famous for nothing but
Gentian;
What is one Mans delight is another Mans loathing,
So all Men are Famous for something or nothing.
XXIII.
Not the Houses invented by
Lilly's and
Coley's,
Or the Pallace of
Ovid he calls
Regia Solis,
Were Structures so noble, as if the new Dwelling
Of
C—k at the
Sun, who pretends to
Wine-selling;
With him we'd have spoke, but were told by a Servant,
To a
Horse-race he went with a Zeal very Fervent;
We wisht him good luck, but well knew by such Courses,
Some as well have run
Tuns out of breath, as their
Horses.
XXIV.
At the
VVidows we thought some old
Claret t'have found,
But alas! we perceiv'd that the
Ship was
Wind-bound.
XXV.
At
B—y's since
Claret's forgotten and gone,
They have lost the best Ruby belong'd to the
Crown.
For
Bl—ve his sober good true Predecessor,
To the Intrest of
France was a Zealous Confessor;
And 'tis thought that the Clergy and Laity both,
At his Funeral Drank it all up by my troth.
XXVI.
Crossing
Cornhill, we presently took an occasion,
To pay a short Visit at the Salutation;
But when we attempted to Tast the French Wine,
We found 'twas meer
Complement, just like the Sign.
XXVII.
At the
King's-
Arms, before the young Man took a Wife,
He had try'd several various conditions of Life;
But as
D—den, in choice of Religions was curst,
So he of Employments at last chose the worst.
XXVIII.
At
Puntacks the famous French Ord'nary, where
Luxurious Eating is never thought dear,
We expected to meet with a Glass of that same
Wine, which properly carries the Masters own Name;
But his Vaults could not lend us a drop of that Tipple,
So we wish him well— for a
Crooked Disciple.
XXIX.
To the
Stocks-Market hastning we stept to the
Fountain,
But in
Aesop we read of a Big-belly'd Mountain,
Who after strong pangs at last brought forth a Mouse,
Just so our Ambition was serv'd in the House;
Yet we need not at last to have feard a Disaster,
Had the
Claret been half but so good as its Master.
XXX.
To go to the
Rummer my Friend was not willing,
Since for Dressing a
Codshead he pay'd
Thirty Shilling.
XXXI.
To the Taverns in
King street we'd small Invitation,
For since late Elections are made reprobation,
Their Houses have suffer'd a yearly Vacation.
XXXII.
At the St.
John's
Head when we observ'd the pale Sign,
We feard we should find the same
Symptoms in's Wine.
XXXIII.
To no Tavern in
VVood-street my Friend would be led,
Not to
Castle, Three-Tuns, nor to
Jolly Bull head,
Tho he feard no Arrest, yet for Reasons best known
To himself, he resolv'd for to enter in none.
XXXIV.
Through Allies and Lanes we in small time Arriv'd,
To the
Dog full of spots where night Walkers are—
By St.
Patrick (says
Symon) how has it been wi' thee?
Dee'l tauke me now Joy, if I joy not to see thee.
By my Shoul— of good VVine thou shalt have a brauve Glash,
For by my Shoulvation thou hast a sweet Faush.
We declin'd his
Teague-cant, and to keep free from harms,
Left his House, and directly went to the
Queens-Arms.
XXXV.
But such Thundring and Lightning we heard at the Bar,
That to ask there for Wine we thought fit to forbear,
So leaving the Noise of this furious
Madam—
XXXVI.
To the
Castle crost o're and inquir'd for
Old Adam,
But we found him disorder'd upon his Sons Gaming,
For losing a triffling Sum scarcely worth naming,
From which we concluded, 'twas not hard to gather,
That the Child was the true begot Son of the Father.
XXXVII.
Faith
Sedg—k has set all his Trade an Example,
Scorning bad Wines to sell, now's a
Student i'th' Temple;
XXXVIII.
For old
Claret in vain we should ask at the
Sun,
If
Mat. F— r's quite dry, sure his man can have none.
XXXIX.
At the Widows of Ditto we were sure to fall short,
For her
three Tuns have long since bled the last Quart.
XL.
'Mongst
Mercers and
Lacemen of mighty Renown,
To Jolly
Tom. Th—ds at the sign of the Crown,
We advanc'd, and to speak with the Master desir'd;
But whether with Wine or with Truth was inspir'd:
Look you (says the young
Bacchus) I've not
Claret a drop,
When my Wife lay in last, the
Rogues drank it all up.
XLI.
At the
Dog just by
Newgate, (a hopeful New-Colledg,)
We askt, but old
Claret was quite out of Knowledg.
XLII.
The
Fountain through
Newgate expects some new comer,
For now 'tis as dry as the Desarts in Summer.
XLIII.
At the Taverns in
Smithfield we were sure to despair,
For both good and bad 's drank in time of the
Fair,
When each House is a
Brothel, and delicate work,
Is produc'd by bad
VVine, Cully, Punk, Pig and
Pork.
XLIV.
On
Snow Hill at the
Castle, two Fellows in
Halters,
Just going to
Tyburn, and reading their
Psalters,
Made the Cart stop, and Drank off a Pint of
Canary,
To attend their sad Fate with a Countenance Merry.
To find no
Claret there, tho we had a suspicion,
Yet declin'd we to enter, by odd superstition,
That if we drank there, it would follow of course,
That in a few Sessions their Turn would be ours.
XLV.
At the
Bull-head we lookt, and were told that the Master,
'Cause Trading was low, and no other disaster,
Did modestly keeping a
Tavern decline,
Thinking 't better to Deal in good
Cyder than
Wine.
XLVI.
At the
Three Tuns, in his Kitchin we found Mr.
W—dron,
Complaining that Coals were to dear by the Chaldron,
We told him our business, he bid us be quiet,
For if he had
Claret he would not deny it.
XLVII.
At Tavern with Sign of the
Angel and Mary,
Good
Claret expected, but found the contrary;
But at our ill Fortune forgot to repine,
Since the Master knew
Oyl far better than
Wine.
XLVIII.
Poor
Jockey, what made thee to run such a Course,
To break both thy
Back, and the
Back of the Horse?
XLIX.
At the
Devil, however his brags may be many,
Dee'l take make me if
Claret we there could find any;
For tho to his Trade to sell Tuns he pretends,
Yet he had not a Bottle to pleasure his Friends.
L.
At the Globe in the middle of a
Garden call'd
Hatten,
Fe—ld has for a long time himself learnt to Fatten;
Yet now a Dejection appears in his Face,
Since the
Sherif's
Court is remov'd to another new place.
LI.
Like a
Cardinals Pallace did
Ha—nds appear,
And by the
Cross-Keys thought the
Pope might live there;
But we found that how e're to
French Intrest inclin'd,
To the Faction of
Spain he would not be unkind;
For he Swears that of
Claret he'll not sell a Drop,
Till the Union's concerted 'twixt
Lewis and
Pope.
LII.
Through an Entry as dark as is fancied by Story,
By which Souls to be stew'd pass into
Purgatory.
At the
Castle we entred to see our Friend
Bee—ly:
Ah! could we have found out his
Claret as easily;
But at Tasting we found that the
Wine was but so, so,
Unfit for the Palate of a nice
Virtuoso.
LIII.
To the
Globe then advancing, near
Furnivals-Inn,
At the Bar we demanded if
Free— were within;
We were sure by his absence, to miss our design,
If the Drawer's my Friend, so be sure is my Wine.
LIV.
At the Door of the
Sun, we there askt Mrs.
Rose,
If some good
Claret there we to find might suppose;
But she told us, tho
Oysters and
Claret might chime,
Yet their goodness and price rais'd and fell at one time.
LV.
At the
Three-Tuns, whereof
Isaac Cl—k is the Master,
Who lately had like by Informers been cast Sir;
When of him we did Bottles of
Claret desire,
He return'd,
No, No, No, the Burnt Child dreads the Fire.
LVI.
At
Old Harry's
great Head we observ'd such Distraction,
The Master was in by a new setled
Auction
Was there, that by several words he did use,
We thought it most safe to be out of the House.
LVII.
If all be not lyes which
Philosophers tell us,
(For History paints 'em as honest brave fellows)
That in all kind of Species there's not such a Creature,
As
Griffin e're yet was produc'd by
Old Nature:
So the Master assures, who lives at that
Sign,
He believes that in
London there's no
Claret-Wine.
LVIII.
When we entred the
Sun, and saw one tamely stand,
With his Hat on his Head, and a Bottle in's Hand;
With a Passive Obedience endure all the Scolding
Of a VVoman at Bar, who was loudly forth-holding,
VVith
Sirrah, you
Raskal, I'le thump your old Noddle:
You, I'le warrant below by your self drank your Bottle;
VVent forth, and believ'd a kind Wife was all Riches,
But
Heaven defend us from one wears the Breeches.
LIX.
Thinking all other Taverns were much of the kind,
VVhich in
Holbourn we so very lately did find.
Crossing
Lincolns-Inn Fields, and passing by all
The Retailers of
Wine, at the
Rose we first call,
Where the
Beau's and the
Sparks with their Mistresses Feast,
Laugh at at all sober Sense, and think Life but a Jest:
They had
Burgundy-Wine, but no
Claret at all;
So there our pretences were quickly let fall.
LX.
Crossing o're
Covent Garden, we came to
J. An—lls,
VVho pretends to have
Wines full as good as man can sell;
But when he would shew us a Glass of his Fine,
VVe found his skill lay much more in
VVomen than
VVine.
LXI.
Taking Coach, then we came to the
Harrow and Bear,
An Eating House famous without
Temple-Bar;
VVhen for
Claret we askt, were told they had none,
But of
Florence we might have
Half-Flask for
Half-Crown.
My Friend was so Mad with so lewd a Demand,
That had I not timely prevented his Hand,
Their Bar had a much greater sufferer been,
Than the Bar in the Play, call'd the
Scowerers, was seen.
LXII.
Through
Temple-Bar passing to
Chancery Lane,
(VVhere Clients with Bills and with Answers are slain)
VVe found the
Old Pope grown decrepid and stale;
VVas now pleas'd to sell
Darby and
Nottingham-Ale.
VVe both laught at the
Label affixt to the Sign,
And suppos'd that their Ale was such stuff as their
Wine.
LXIII.
To the
Commons then hastning, where Sober
Civilians
Hear Causes between
Cuckolds, Bauds, Whores and
Villains.
To the
Feathers first went, and desir'd Mr.
Sh—w
To let's have a
Bottle, and wink at the Law:
He smil'd, and reply'd, yes, yes, Gentlemen once,
Good
Claret I had, and to sell't made
no Bones;
But since I shook hands with my
Wine Coopers Trade,
That Plaguy VVhore
Fortune has prov'd but a Jade.
LXIV.
At the
Castle, when coming in sight of the Bar,
S—mth gave us his VVelcome with such a fine Air;
So well skill'd in Language is the sly
Dott'rell,
As if he design'd for a second Sir.
C—rell.
To Splutter out
Spanish, French, Dutch, can't forbear it,
And alike understands 'em, as much as his
Claret.
And o're the Frail Sex has such an absolute sway,
That his Servants can hardly be sent Maids away;
Besides, should the Trade of the
Vintners fail,
He has got a most Modern Receipt for Broom-Ale;
Nay, before he'l be guilty of Poverties Crime,
VVill Let out's Sweating Closet for twelve Pence a time.
LXV.
To the
Horn then we went, and inquir'd for the Master,
And askt him how's Trade went, since the
Rocket Disaster,
He reply'd for our Joke he would be in Arrear'a,
And askt if we'd drink any sparkling
Medera?
VVe askt him what 'twas? He kindly then bid us
A VVelcome to's Celler, where once with
[...]—
He Drank,—but
Horns take me, if through the whole Cell,
VVe such
Claret could find to please Appetite well.
LXVI.
VVhen to
King's-
Head we came, our Delight was not small,
To see
Posture Betty out-do
Posture Mall.
LXVII.
At the
Swan the fam'd Tavern for well Dress'd Fish Dinners.
VVe found the young Couple were early beginners:
Good Breeding in
Vintners may cost 'em but little;
Nay, 'faith 'tis the very chief String to their Fiddle.
For want of good Manners I challenge no Man,
But good
Claret was ones understood in the
Swan.
LXVIII.
If we there could find none that would stick to our Ribs,
VVe shall pass by your
Feathers good dear Mr.
G—bs.
LXIX.
In a strait line to
Garlick-Hill tending our way,
We resolv'd at the
Long-Dog to finish the Day;
But in vain we thought there to fulfil our desire,
Not one
Amorous Bottle to quench our new Fire
We could we find there, unless we our Faith would resign
To some strange Masquerade and Sophisticate
Wine.
Disappointed on all sides, my Friend to be civil,
(Having wisht all the
Vintners 'forenam'd at the
Devil)
Would accept no denial, but hastily trudging,
Near to
Clerkenwell-Green, drag'd me on to his Lodging:
Just to which when arriv'd, and to make a conclusion,
To the
Castle we went, but there was such confusion
Of Damning and Sinking, as if
Captain T—d,
For a Patent to Swear, to the
Devil had Rode;
By which, as fixt Truth, we could soon understand,
That his Courage lay more in his Mouth than his Hand;
Besides his
thin VVines were as empty of Merit,
As the Captain of Courage, does want the true Spirit.
LXX.
To
Jerusalem John, tho the Sign we did well like,
VVhich may sor'ts Antiquity pass for a Relick.
VVe came, and found
B—ts was by
VVine grown Erratick;
VVhen for
Claret we askt him, he cry'd out
Veratick.
Well my honest true Hearts, cries the poor Drunken
Ninny,
I am ev'ry time forc'd so to struggle with
Skinny:
As I hope to be Sav'd, and to live from Care,
A
Maiden-head every night falls to my share.
What a Pox, says my Friend, can he mean by this Canting:
What care we for his
VVife, when our
Claret is wanting?
But we found that our
Land-lord was deaf on that Ear,
And so just like
Sabina, tho he heard, would not hear.
It was now very late, and we both of us thinking,
'Twas a breach in true Friendship to part without Drinking,
Got a Bottle or two of the Ale they call
Darby,
For it came from that place or the Devils Arse hard-by,
Which refresht our tir'd Senses with generous Heat,
So we Lovingly parted as Friendly we met.
FINIS.