A Farther Search AFTER CLARET; OR, A Second Visitation OF THE VINTNERS. A POEM.  
Nature has made Man's Breast no Windows,  
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.  
Who 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 Alum,  
Bay-Salt, and White-Starch, to their Sense can recall 'em;  
Who when Clarets are Ropy, and apt to be Muddy,  
Can with Spirit of Wine make 'em leave their brown Study;  
Who when French Wines are Eager and just about Pricking,  
With Alum and Flanders-Tile make 'em leave Kicking.  
Who with Racking, Infusing, and Clarification,  
Play some delicate Tricks with the Wine in this Nation.  
To all Female Bar-keepers, Young, Airy and Pretty,  
Whether Widows, Wives, Maids, Pert, Brisk Merry and Witty,  
Who can Banter young Fops, of their Money and Reason,  
With a Wit, which like Beauty is ne'er out of Season.  
To those Riddles of Men, whom we Wine-coopers' call,  
Neither Merchants nor Vintners, and yet they are all;  
Who with Pegs, 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, etc.  

HOw hard of pleased Custom we take our farewell!  
For next morning, no sooner I got from my Cell,  
But a Friend to the Bottle who never knew sorrow,  
With a look undisguised, 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 Wine,  
As should make even Envy for get to repine:  
But though I under strong prejudice lay,  
Yet was willing to make one more daring essay.  
Tho two days disappointed, accepted his motion,  
So yielding my Person up to his Devotion,  
Went with him.— As Girls who the Sport once have seen,  
Think every day ten, till they're at it again.   

I.  
His Business dispatched, we first went to the Vine,  
To see from those Grapes we could press Claret Wine,  
But the Master it seems was an arch pickled Youth,  
And assured 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,  
We perceived that its Owners were fled to the Mint.   

III.  
We'd have called at the Swan, but the Pious good Master,  
Who 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  
When at the Kings-head we observed loaded Spits,  
Full of Beef, Veal and Mutton, and such kind of Bits;  
We concluded good Claret to find not a drop,  
In a Tavern, when altered into a Cooks-shop.   

V  
When we entered the Gun, and arrived at the Bar,  
More confusion of Tongues did old Babel ne'er hear;  
Some Singing, some Dancing, some Swearing, some Roaring,  
Some Ranting, some Drinking, some Gaming, some Whoring,  
Such a Medley of Noises, like strings out of Tune,  
Made both of us quickly afraid of the Gun.   

VI  
Half stun'd with the noise, and oppressed with dull thinking,  
Came to Mannerly Tavern kept by brisk Mr. J—kin,  
As active a Lad as  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?  
We thought it most safe for to go out of Door,  
For the sight of these Petticoats spoiled our design,  
We then having more fancy for Women than Wine,   

VII.  
At the Fleece when for Claret we asked the young Spark,  
He assured us it had long been at Low-water-Mark.   

VIII.  
At the Mermaid we found Six fat Oyster-wives sitting,  
Who over cool Quarterns were smoking and spitting,  
And loudly discoursing the price of Old-Ling,  
And so nauseously talked of another old Thing,  
That our Stomaches quite turned, 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 enquired of a stately fine Dame;  
We found her so busy in dressing of Fish,  
That her very looks seemed to answer us, Pish;  
But to her proud humour not willing to stoop,  
Like Jugglers, we cleaverly jumped through the Hoop.   

X.  
When for Claret at Cl— fftons we asked at the Swan,  
We were stared at as if we came just from Japan.   

XI.  
At the Monument when we for Wine made pretence,  
We 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 arrived, 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 by't 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 than we steered with a steady 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 the 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 played at Chess:  
How well at Tom. F— dear we thought we were sped,  
Yet found we as meanly were used at Bull head.   

XVII.  
How vainly so  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 extremes;  
One while his Wine's poor, at another time rich,  
Let my very good Reader go Taste 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 reached the White-hart,  
Where there once lived 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 underground,  
In his Vaults is a strange lawless Government found;  
Had he now been alive he'd have blushed 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 friend would have had me to stepped 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 perceived that the Wine had forgot to speak French.   

XXII.  
At the Antwerp what ever is Eu— ter's pretention,  
His Tavern is famous for nothing but Gentian;  
What is one Man's delight is another Man's loathing,  
So all Men are Famous for something or nothing.   

XXIII.  
Not the Houses invented by lily's and Coley's,  
Or the Palace 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 wished him good luck, but well knew by such Courses,  
Some as well have run Tuns out of breath, as their Horses.   

XXIV.  
At the Widows we thought some old Claret t'have found,  
But alas! we perceived that the Ship was Wind-bound.   

XXV.  
At B— y's since Claret's forgotten and gone,  
They have lost the best Ruby belonged to the Crown.  
For Bl— ve his sober good true Predecessor,  
To the Interest 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 Taste the French Wine,  
We found 'twas mere Compliment, just like the Sign.   

XXVII.  
At the King's- Arms, before the young Man took a Wife,  
He had tried several various conditions of Life;  
But as D—den, in choice of Religions was cursed,  
So he of Employments at last chose the worst.   

XXVIII.  
At Puntacks the famous French Ordinary, 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 Stock-market hastening we stepped to the Fountain,  
But in Aesop we read of a Big-bellyed Mountain,  
Who after strong pangs at last brought forth a Mouse,  
Just so our Ambition was served in the House;  
Yet we need not at last to have feared 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 paid Thirty Shilling.   

XXXI.  
To the Taverns in King street we'd small Invitation,  
For since late Elections are made reprobation,  
Their Houses have suffered a yearly Vacation.   

XXXII.  
At the St. John's Head when we observed the pale Sign,  
We feared we should find the same Symptoms in's Wine.   

XXXIII.  
To no Tavern in Wood-street my Friend would be led,  
Not to Castle, Three-Tuns, nor to Jolly Bull head,  
Tho he feared no Arrest, yet for Reasons best known  
To himself, he resolved for to enter in none.   

XXXIV.  
Through Allies and Lanes we in small time Arrived,  
To the Dog full of spots where night Walkers are—  
By St. Patrick (says Simon) how has it been wi' thee?  
Devil talk me now Joy, if I joy not to see thee.  
By my Shoul— of good Wine thou shalt have a brauve Glash,  
For by my Shoulvation thou hast a sweet Faush.  
We declined his Teague-cant, and to keep free from harms,  
Left his House, and directly went to the Queens-Arms.   

XXXV.  
But such Thundering 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 crossed o'er and enquired for Old Adam,  
But we found him disordered upon his Son's Gaming,  
For losing a trifling 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 advanced, and to speak with the Master desired;  
But whether with Wine or with Truth was inspired:  
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 asked, but old Claret was quite out of Knowledge.   

XLII.  
The Fountain through Newgate expects some new comer,  
For now 'tis as dry as the Deserts 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 produced by bad Wine, 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, though we had a suspicion,  
Yet declined 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 Bullhead we looked, and were told that the Master,  
'Cause Trading was low, and no other disaster,  
Did modestly keeping a Tavern decline,  
Thinking it better to Deal in good Cider than Wine.   

XLVI.  
At the Three Tuns, in his Kitchen we found Mr. W— dron,  
Complaining that Coals were to dear by the Cauldron,  
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 Oil 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,  
Devil take make me if Claret we there could find any;  
For though 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 called Hatten,  
Fe— l has for a long time himself learned to Fatten;  
Yet now a Dejection appears in his Face,  
Since the Sherif's Court is removed to another new place.   

LI.  
Like a Cardinal's Palace did Ha'— nds appear,  
And by the Cross-Keys thought the Pope might live there;  
But we found that how e'er to French Interest inclined,  
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 stewed pass into Purgatory.  
At the Castle we entered to see our Friend Bee— lie:  
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 asked Mrs. Rose,  
If some good Claret there we to find might suppose;  
But she told us, though Oysters and Claret might chime,  
Yet their goodness and price raised 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 returned, No, No, No, the  Child dreads the Fire.   

LVI.  
At Old Harry's great Head we observed such Distraction,  
The Master was in by a new settled 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 lies 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'er yet was produced 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 entered 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 Woman at Bar, who was loudly forth-holding,  
With Sirrah, you Rascal, I'll thump your old Noddle:  
You, I'll warrant below by yourself drank your Bottle;  
Went forth, and believed 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,  
Which 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 Mistress' 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'er Covent Garden, we came to J. An— ls,  
Who pretends to have Wines full as good as man can sell;  
But when he would show us a Glass of his Fine,  
We found his skill lay much more in Women than Wine.   

LXI.  
Taking Coach, than we came to the Harrow and Bear,  
An Eating House famous without Temple-Bar;  
When for Claret we asked, 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, called the Scowerers, was seen.   

LXII.  
Through Temple-Bar passing to Chancery Lane,  
(Where Clients with Bills and with Answers are slain)  
We found the Old Pope grown decrepit and stolen;  
Was now pleased to sell Derby and Nottingham-Ale.  
We both laughed at the Label affixed to the Sign,  
And supposed that their Ale was such stuff as their Wine.   

LXIII.  
To the Commons then hastening, where Sober Civilians  
Hear Causes between Cuckolds, Bawds, Whores and Villains.  
To the Feathers first went, and desired Mr.  
Sh—w To let's have a Bottle, and wink at the Law:  
He smiled, and replied, yes, yes, Gentlemen once,  
Good Claret I had, and to selled made no Bones;  
But since I shook hands with my Wine Cooper's Trade,  
That Plaguy Whore Fortune has proved but a Jade.   

LXIV.  
At the Castle, when coming in sight of the Bar,  
S—mth gave us his Welcome with such a fine Air;  
So well skilled in Language is the sly Dott'rell,  
As if he designed 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'er 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'll be guilty of Poverties Crime,  
Will Let out's Sweeting Closet for twelve Pence a time.   

LXV.  
To the Horn than we went, and enquired for the Master,  
And asked him how's Trade went, since the Rocket Disaster,  
He replied for our Joke he would be in Arrear'a,  
And asked if we'd drink any sparkling Medera?  
We asked him what ' 'twas? He kindly then bid us  
A Welcome to's Cellar, where once with ●—  
He Drank,— but Horns take me, if through the whole Cell,  
We such Claret could find to please Appetite well.   

LXVI.  
When to King's- Head we came, our Delight was not small,  
To see Posture Betty outdo Posture Mall.   

LXVII.  
At the Swan the famed Tavern for well Dressed Fish Dinners.  
We found the young Couple were early beginners:  
Good Breeding in Vintners may cost 'em but little;  
Nay, i'faith 'tis the very chief String to their Fiddle.  
For want of good Manners I challenge no Man,  
But good Claret was one's understood in the Swan.   

LXVIII.  
If we there could find none that would stick to our Ribs,  
We shall pass by your Feathers good dear Mr. G—bs.   

LXIX.  
In a straight line to Garlick-Hill tending our way,  
We resolved 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 wished all the Vintner's 'forenam'd at the Devil)  
Would accept no denial, but hastily trudging,  
Near to Clerkenwell-Green, dragged me on to his Lodging:  
Just to which when arrived, 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 fixed Truth, we could soon understand,  
That his Courage lay more in his Mouth than his Hand;  
Besides his thin Wines were as empty of Merit,  
As the Captain of Courage, does want the true Spirit.   

LXX.  
To Jerusalem John, though the Sign we did well like,  
Which may sor'ts Antiquity pass for a Relic.  
We came, and found B— 'tis was by Wine grown Erratic;  
When for Claret we asked him, he cried out Veratick.  
Well my honest true Hearts, cries the poor Drunken Ninny,  
I am every time forced so to struggle with Skinny:  
As I hope to be Saved, and to live from Care,  
A Maidenhead every night falls to my share.  
What a Pox, says my Friend, can he mean by this Canting:  
What care we for his Wife, when our Claret is wanting?  
But we found that our Landlord was deaf on that Ear,  
And so just like Sabina, though 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 Derby,  
For it came from that place or the Devil's Arse hard-by,  
Which refreshed our tired Senses with generous Heat,  
So we Lovingly parted as Friendly we met.   
FINIS.   

ADVERTISEMENTS.  

The Folly of Love: Or, an Essay upon satire against Women.  
The Search after Claret; Or, a Visitation of the Vintners. A Poem in two Cantos.