The Last Search AFTER CLARET IN SOUTHWARK: Or a VISITATION of the Vintners in the Mint, WITH The Debates of a Committee of that Profession thither Fled to avoid the Cruel Persecution of their unmerciful Creditors. A POEM. Dedicated to the most Ingenuous Author of the Search after WIT, etc.  
'Tis strange how some men's Tempers suit,  
(Like Bawd and Brandy) with Dispute.  Hudibras. 
London, Printed for E. Hawkins, 1691.   

THE Epistle Dedicatory TO THE Under Drawer of the— 's Head Tavern in— Gate Street, the Lucky Author of the Search after Wit, etc.  
Dear Honest Drawcansir,  
THE Hot Fit of Rhyming being just off, and the Cold Fit of Prose Succeeding, I am as it were necessitated to return you my Hearty Thanks for the Honourable Character you gave me in your last Essay, putting me in the Van of so many Illustrious Worthies, who have Signalised themselves to Posterity, by their Elaborate Writings, particularly with Shirley and Kainophilus; but I' Faith Little Mercury, 'twas something bold to Draw upon the whole Society of the Quill at once before you gave the least notice of your Intentions in the Gazette; but like your Name sake in the Rehearsal, 
You Drink, you Huff, you Strut, look Big and Stare,  
And all this you can do, because you dare.   
I did not know till now, that I was of Noble Blood (supposing myself to be of Plebeian Extraction) but you it seems are pleased to fetch my Pedigree from Bantam and Morocco, two Countries widely asunder; and I believe 'twill puzzle all the Parish Books in those two Kingdoms to Determine whether the Renegade my Father went over to Bantam, or the Strolling Gypsy my Mother rambled into the Moors Country to be delivered of me: However you make me some Amends about six Lines off, by accquainting the World with my unknown Accomplishments of Singing, Dancing, and Story Telling (excellent Virtues in a Jack-pudding or Merry Andrew) well egad Little Smirk, thou hast a plaguy faculty at Guessing. When thy hand was in, why couldst thou not have said that I could Conjure, Show slights of Hand, Dance on the Ropes, and Pit, Box and Gallery with any Mountebank in Italy? But those Accomplishments with Additions I expect in your next.  
You talk something of a Humming in your Dedication, a word as difficult to be understood as Tetrachymagogon. But by way of Gratitude, if you please to allow some Gentlemen and my Self the Honour of your Company in the Apollo, at the Devil Tavern in Fleetstreet on Easter-Eve, you shall be most civilly Treated, and be made as free of the Blanket as ever was Sancho Pancha. In the mean time I am  
Your Servant Satyrical Dick.   

THE Last Search AFTER CLARET, etc.  

Refreshed with soft sleep, and Obliging kind Dreams,  
Of walking with Silvia by murmuring Streams,  
I awaked, and perceived my late parted-with Friend,  
In my Chamber did softly my Levee attend;  
Some Civilities past, he desired 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;  
For as it oft happens in large Country Town,  
At the chief Topping Inns, will no Tipple go down;  
But in a Thatched Cottage remote from the Road,  
We do frequently meet with Ale nappy and Good,  
So though Claret we found none the whole City through,  
Yet perhaps we might find it at last in the Burrow;  
With his Argument pleased, and my Garments put on,  
Took Coach and were hurried down to the Old Swan,  
Where a Waterman who will a thousand Lies 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'er yet in Welsh Pedigree 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 hastening, we stepped to the Ram's-  
Head, but soon found their pretences were sham's;  
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,  
Steered 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 assured 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 hanged for a Vinegar Drawer.   

V.  
Not a Spaniard with Rhotomantadoes can glory,  
Nor tell more untruths in a damned florid Story,  
Than will Robin Fe— d●r Discourse of the Value  
And Richness of Wine's he pretends he can Sell you:  
But we quickly perceived by the Wine that he drew us,  
That the Vaults of Bullhead 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 hastened, and found the House King,  
By Broom-Men a Singing Old Simon the King;  
Besides at the Bar we perceived a poor Trooper  
Was Cursing the Master, and calling him Cooper.  
Did not I once know— (cries the brisk Son of Mars)  
You once were a Hoop-Tub as poor as mine Are—  
This occasioned us both to decline going in,  
For Self-Preservation was ne'er thought a Sin.   

IX.  
To the Arms of the Queen, since we Failed at her Head,  
We went, and perceived we as meanly were speed;  
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'er 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 chase away sorrow,  
(Since only to Fate does belong our tomorrow)  
Assured him, that we no expenses would grudge,  
But send for a half Flask of Wine from the Lodge:  
He accepted our proffer, and then in a Trice,  
With some stuff he called Claret comes good Mr. Pr—ce ce,  
Who stands at the Door of King's-Bench with his Keys,  
To let Visitants out, and keep in the Flea's;  
But when I attempted the Wine he had filled,  
'Twas fit for no Palate but that of a Jack-smith.  
At this I perceived my Imprisoned Friend Smiled,  
And told me, Pr—ce ce once was a Journeyman-Black-smith:  
For indeed we could scarce reconcile it to Reason,  
Which was the worst Evil, the Wine or the Prison.   

XI.  
Disappointed by Pr—ce 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 Lion, 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 arrived that the Master was Dead;  
We 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 joined,  
We 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 busy was she in Soliciting Causes,  
'twixt Debtors small hopes, and their Creditors Losses;  
She being so perfectly like Widow Blackacre,  
Went out, and both wish that the P— quickly might take her.   

XIV.  
To the Sign of three Tuns in the Heart of the Rules,  
Where 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 Tailor,  
In thinking he now might walk free from a Tailor,  
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;  
But the Jolly Wine-cooper assured us on's Oath,  
He esteemed all the Claret in Town but as Froth;  
But with Alicant dashed in a Pint of Red-port,  
He could counterfeit Claret the best of the sort;  
We cursed his damned Brewing, but wished his Profession,  
Would all of them make such a generous 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 Alehouse 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 encircled about with a throng,  
Daniel Topf— l we spied, 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 desired our Landlord would no more himself trouble,  
For we both did about some small odd Business come,  
And desired we might sit undisturbed in our Room;  
He agreed, 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 Vintner's, 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 although I have failed, 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 Sta —y, who Lived at the Mitre and Poland,  
Tho I once was a Glazier, and though 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 tight Spanish Padlock been ever in Fashion,  
I had had the most Virtuous Consort i'th' Nation.  
Why, says Wooldr— ge my Bowling-green brings me more Coin,  
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 Ten I'd so orderly Brew,  
If I was but as well stocked with Money as you?  
I once Lived in Fleetstreet at sign of the Feather;  
Yes, yes, replies Woold— ge, till hot grew the Wether;  
And when your Dry Vaults scarcely held a full Pint,  
Then hither you came to Sell stuff in the Mint;  
But Tom was so nettled with this Lewd Disgrace,  
That his Mug had been battered against Woold— ges Face,  
Had not Lumbardstreet-Glover in time interposed,  
And Piously this sudden Passion composed.  
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 tottering of it endangers a Leak.  
Ay, says L— e, who in East-cheap once lived 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 tossed 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 cheer up our Spirits by Music and Drinking,  
Cries Steph— ns who once at the Billingsgate 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 saucy young whelp.  
Nay, nay, nay, says Tom. Mer—re I know no such reason,  
For Music 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?  
Don't we know all the Sharping sly tricks that you use?  
He's an Ass, says the other, would Music refuse:  
At this, Hoop— tr Discharged 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 haste paid for our Drink, and so timely withdrew,  
Resolving the dull tedious search to give o'er,  
And never inquire for Old Dry Claret more.   
FINIS.