THE Last Search AFTER CLARET, &c.
REfresht with soft
sleep, and Obliging kind Dreams,
Of walking with
Silvia by murmuring Streams,
I awak't, and perceiv'd my late parted-with Friend,
In my Chamber did softly my
Levee attend;
Some Civilities past, he desir'd me once more,
An odd morning to spend, and some
Claret explore;
For he fancied it would be no difficult Matter,
To meet with some
Special just over the Water;
[Page 2] For as it oft happens in large Country Town,
At the chief
Topping Inns, will no
Tipple go down;
But in a
Thatcht Cottage remote from the Road,
We do frequently meet with
Ale nappy and
Good,
So tho
Claret we found none the whole
City thorough,
Yet perhaps we might find it at last in the
Burrough;
With his Argument pleas'd, and my Garments put on,
Took Coach and were hurried down to the
Old Swan,
Where a
Waterman who will a thousand Lyes tell ye,
Soon wafted us over to
Old Pepper-Ally.
I.
Through stinks of all sorts, both the Simple and Compound,
Which through narrow Allies our Senses do confound;
We came to the
Bear, which we soon understood,
Was the first House in
Southwark built after the
Flood,
And has such a Succession of
Vintners known,
Not more Names were e're yet in
Welsh Pedegree shown:
But
Claret with them was so much out of Fashion,
That it has not been known there a whole Generation.
II.
To
Tooly-Street hastning, we stept to the
Ram's-
Head, but soon found their pretences were
Shams;
[Page 3] What blessing to
Aries, Stargazers allow,
Yet we found the Sign
Retrograde here down below.
III.
To the next
Bush advancing we were hardly put to't,
To know whether the
Sign was a
Leg or a
Boot;
So we thinking that there all our hopes would miscarry,
Steer'd our Voyage directly to sign of
Old Harry.
IV.
Which although a fine Tavern, yet has scarce other use,
But a Passage to one Justice
Ev—ns his House,
Before whom, (all their
Creditors soon to confound)
Debtors Swear that they singly are not worth ten Pound;
When we told our Friend
Matt, we for
Claret would Pay,
He assur'd us his Trade lay a different way,
For
Wines were intended—
To Cherish
Old Nature, and not to destroy her,
So we wish him half hang'd for a
Vinegar Drawer.
V.
Not a
Spaniard with
Rhotomantadoes can glory,
Nor tell more untruths in a damn'd florid Story,
[Page 4] Than will
Robin Fe—d
[...]r Discourse of the Value
And Richness of
Wine's he pretends he can Sell you:
But we quickly perceiv'd by the
Wine that he drew us,
That the
Vaults of
Bull-head were not far from a
Brewhouse.
VI.
The
Ship which so often has Rode in
French Seas,
Whether troubled with
Rats or some other Disease,
Is now laid up in Harbour, but who next is her owner,
Is a daring
young Spark if he venture upon her.
VII.
If the
Bear could afford no
Claret was precious,
tA old Captain
S—ths in the Street they call
Gracious;
We soon thought at
King's-Arms we should meet with disaster,
For the
Servant is oftentimes much like the
Master.
VIII.
To the
Queen's-head we hastned, and found the House King,
By
Broom-Men a Singing
Old Simon the King;
Besides at the
Bar we perceiv'd a poor
Trooper
VVas Cursing the Master, and calling him
Cooper.
You once were a Hoop-Tub as poor as mine Ar—
This occasion'd us both to decline going in,
For Self-Preservation was ne're thought a Sin.
IX.
To the
Arms of the Queen, since we Fail'd at her
Head,
VVe went, and perceiv'd we as meanly were spead;
For in choice of good
Wines Kit. Will—t knows-nothing,
Being far better Learned in
Nicking and Frothing,
And he had far better, what e're he may talk,
Kept to Drunken
All-Fours and his
Marlbrough Chalk.
X.
To the
King's-Bench we went without hindrance or let,
To see a poor
Friend was
suspected of
Debt;
Dejected we found him, and to chace away sorrow,
(
Since only to Fate does belong our to-morrow)
Assur'd him, that we no expences would grudg,
But send for a
half Flask of Wine from the
Lodg:
He accepted our proffer, and then in a Trice,
VVith some stuff he call'd
Claret comes good Mr.
Pr—ce,
VVho stands at the Door of
King's-Bench with his
Keys,
To let
Visitants out, and keep in the
Flea's;
[Page 6] But when I attempted the
Wine he had fill'd,
'Twas fit for no Palate but that of a
Jack-smith.
At this I perceiv'd my
Imprison'd Friend Smil'd,
And told me,
Pr—ce once was a
Journeyman-Black-smith:
For indeed we could scarce reconcile it to Reason,
VVhich was the worst Evil, the
Wine or the
Prison.
XI.
Disappointed by
Pr—ce, then of
Wood—rd we thought
But when his
fine Claret the
Chamberlain brought,
Tho the
Man might be
Good, yet his
Claret was
Naught.
XII.
Taking Leave of our
Friend, with a
Libera nos,
Came to
Lyon, where once
William Feil—r kept House:
At the Door of which stood such a
Ghost of a
Man,
And as strange in his Dress as if come from
Japan;
But the House we found empty, the
Drawers all fled,
And the News just arriv'd that the Master was Dead;
VVe were certain that there we all Juices should want,
And so took our Leave of the young Dr.
Pl—t.
XIII.
Then to sign of
two Hands which together were joyn'd,
VVe were told
Claret there we should certainly find:
But the
Mistress o'th' House having
Conscience most tender,
To procure
Acts of
Grace was a Zealous pretender;
So busie was she in
Soliciting Causes,
Twixt
Debtors small hopes, and their
Creditors Losses;
She being so perfectly like
Widow Blackacre,
VVent out, and both wish that the
P— quickly might take her.
XIV.
To the Sign of
three Tuns in the Heart of the
Rules,
VVhere the
Debtors esteem all their
Creditors Fools;
We found Mr.
Ro—e who was cutting a
Caper,
For joy that he newly had paid
Debts by Paper;
So lively and brisk was the
Quondam Old Taylor,
In thinking he now might walk free from a
Taylor,
That excesses of Joy did of Sense so bereave him,
We thought that in prudence 'twas fittest to leave him.
XV.
Observing a
Bunch of Grapes hang for a Sign,
We at
Go—ds then expected to meet with
good Wine;
[Page 8] But the Jolly
Wine-cooper assur'd us on's Oath,
He estem'd all the
Claret in Town but as Froth;
But with
Alicant dasht in a Pint of
Red-port,
He could counterfeit
Claret the best of the sort;
We curst his damn'd
Brewings, but wisht his Profession,
Would all of them make such a gen'rous Confession;
So finding cross Fates did our hopes disappoint,
We directly went both of us into the
Mint.
Where the
Ghosts of poor
Debtors are constantly Walking,
Sometimes to themselves, then to other Men talking;
With a
Peniless Pocket they constantly roam,
And fancy each Ale-house they come to their home;
There are no stately
Taverns, nor
Houses of
Eating,
But all things appear like a Dull
Quakers-Meeting;
Excepting when flustred with Ale, or with Brandy,
They fancy themselves to be Kings great as can be.
It was now just Eleven when walking along,
In a large Room encircl'd about with a throng,
Daniel Topf—ld we spy'd, who once was, I assure ye,
A
Topping Brisk Vintner in Lane they call
Drury;
But since both his Hopes and his Industry fail,
Was humbly content to find gains by
dull Ale:
He invited us in, and a little Room clear,
Where we plainly could all in the place next us hear;
We sat down, and then having of Mugs drank a couple,
We desir'd our
Landlord would no more himself trouble,
For we both did about some small odd Business come,
And desir'd we might sit undisturb'd in our Room;
[Page 9] He agree'd, and again to his Company went,
Who were all of them strictly observing of
Lent,
And in the whole Room there was scarcely found one,
Whose Person or Face unto us was unknown;
Some
Drapers, some
Lacemen, some
Brewers, some
Bakers,
Some
Hornified Cuckolds, and some
Cuckold-Makers;
But the
Vinters, and those of the Wine-selling Trade,
In the place were the most, and the best figure made:
Sometimes they would Swear, and another time Curse,
And hardness of times was their chiefest Discourse;
At the upper end sitting cries old Captain
Tw—ne,
I had once a most plentiful stock of
Old Wine;
But altho I have fail'd, yet I had my desert,
For Selling
Canary so cheap by the
Quart;
When to sell't for
two Shillings few Men could dispense,
Like an
Ass I then sold it for just
eighteen Pence.
Sure says
Sta—y, who Liv'd at the
Mitre and
Poland,
Tho I once was a
Glazier, and tho I have no Land,
Yet I thought I was once in as ready a way
To have got an Estate, had not
Wife gone a stray;
Had a tite
Spanish Padlock been ever in Fashion,
I had had the most Vertuous Consort i'th' Nation.
Why, says
Wooldr—ge my
Bowling-green brings me more Coyn,
And turns to a much better Profit than Wine:
Nay, produce me a
Vintner from hence to the
Bars,
Who like me lives exempted from Trouble and Cares;
I Drink off my
Bottle, am Jocund as any;
Yes, yes, cries
Tom. Lawr—ce, but thanks to your Mony.
Think you
Coffee and
Tea I'de so orderly Brew,
If I was but as well stockt with Mony as you?
Yes, yes, replies
Woold—ge, till hot grew the Weather;
And when your
Dry Vaults scarcely held a full Pint,
Then hither you came to Sell stuff in the
Mint;
But
Tom was so netled with this Lew'd Disgrace,
That his
Mug had been battred 'gainst
Woold—ges Face,
Had not
Lumbardstreet-Glover in time interpos'd,
And Piously this sudden Passion compos'd.
Fie, fie,
Gentlemen, once of the Hogshead and Barrel,
What shall we in Afflict'ons in Mutiny Quarrel?
We are now in a Vessel, if I may so speak,
That the least tottring of it endangers a Leak.
Ay, says
L—e, who in
East-cheap once liv'd at
Boars-Head,
Let all men by me, scorn the
Wine-selling Trade;
With the
stipry Whore Fortune in
England I Dealt,
And in
Holland I found her the very same
Jilt;
She has tost me about like a
Dog in a
Blanket,
Had my
Fate been but kind I should gladly have thank it.
Come a
Pox of all Sorrow and Dull heavy Thinking,
Let us chear up our Spirits by Musick and Drinking,
Cries
Steph—ns who once at the
Billings-gate Dog,
Presented his
Claret's, (had general Vogue,)
And produces a
Fiddle, with which very often,
The Cares of Sir
Edward he used to soften;
But the Company scorning so trifling a help,
Bid him put up his
Kitt for a sawcy young whelp.
Nay, nay, nay, says
Tom. Mer—re I know no such reason,
For Musick can never be thought out of Season.
What a Pox, cries a Vintner, what would you be at?
Young
Parchment Old Dog, dare you venture to Prate?
[Page 11] Don't we know all the Sharping sly tricks that you use?
He's an Ass, says the other, would Musick refuse:
At this,
Hoop—tr Discharg'd his
Mugg full at his Head,
And th'other the Friendship with Interest paid:
Each Party had
Seconds whom passion made Warm,
And
Glasses and
Pots flew like Hail in a Storm:
So not knowing what
Murder and
Blood might ensue,
In hast paid for our Drink, and so timely withdrew,
Resolving the dull tedious search to give o're,
And never inquire for
Old Dry Claret more.
FINIS.