A Farther search after claret, or, A second visitation of the vintners a poem.

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.