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Next came a jolly Troop of staggering Sots,
Arm'd, some with Glasses, some with Pewter Pots;
Who round their Hips had azure Ensigns ty'd,
Put on for use, but hanging low for Pride.
Some who were bound the bleeding Grape to thank,
Had Noses dy'd with Noble Juice they'd drank.
Others crept after, whose Consumptive Looks,
Were paler far than either Smiths or Cooks;
Who wanting strength of Nature for their Trade,
B' excess of Wine meer Skeletons were made.
Amongst the rest some bulky Forms appear'd,
Huge strenuous Souls to be admir'd and fear'd;
Each at his Middle had a sharp ground Adds,
Looking like Giants that oppos'd the Gods.
Some Nippers in their Hands, as if they meant
To catch the Devil's Nose, as did the Saint.
As they went on amongst the Tipling Train,
About Precedence some Disputes began;
The Hogshead Drummers, who to please the Mob,
Can make such Musick with an empty Tub,
Took some distaste, their friendly Union broke,
And thus in Anger to the Vintners spoke,
Have we taught you the Practical Deceits,
Of Cider, Stum, the Whites of Eggs, and Sweets,
How to Ferment, to Rack, to Mix and Fine,
And all your pretty Knacks and Tricks with Wine.
And shall you now in this presume to show
Such Skill as we, who taught you what we know,
Pretend Priority, take th' upper-hand,
And think us servile Tools at your Command;
No, you shall find that we have so much Wit,
To reserve some things never told you yet:
Such secret Tricks that with your selves we play,
Practis'd in Merchants Cellars ev'ry Day.
Since we in managing of Wines know most,
You ought to give us the precedent Post.

The Vintners to the Coopers thus reply'd,
Struting like Turkey-Cocks in all their Pride,
Can you, proud Slaves, of us precedence ask,
Whose bus'ness chiefly is to Hoop our Cask,
Our Vaults and Cellars in due order keep,
And watch our Pipes and Butts they do not sweep?
Tho' you're thus Prodigal, we'd have you know;
Our Station is above, and yours below;
We use no Arts to adulterate our Wine,
Or with pernicious Slip-Slops make it fine.
We only mix'd together Strong and Small,
And gave 'em Natures course to rise and fall.
The Coopers, what the Vintners urg'd, deny'd,
And in a mighty Passion swore they Ly'd.
Just as the swelling Feud thus high was grown,
And pointed Words were at each other thrown,
The Cryer call'd the Pris'ners to the Bar,
The Vintners answer'd, Coming, Coming, Sir.
When round the Court the Toping Crew were spread,
Their sinful Charge was thus exhibited.

May't please your Lordship—
The num'rous throng of Fuddle-Caps, that here
Promiscuously before the Bar appear,
On others ruine have themselves enrich'd,
And with their charming Juice the World bewitch'd.
Crowds of poor Mortals in a Year they slew,
With base adulterated Stuffs they drew;
Impos'd on Customers when Drunk and Mad,
And with good Words wou'd put off Wine that's bad.
If fault, altho' deservedly, was found,
They'd tell ye, if they search'd the Cellar round,
They have no better, but with all their Heart,
Will change it for a strong or smaller sort
May please you better, but with some new Name
Wou'd bring the cred'lous Bubble back the same,
And falsly swear his Pallat is amiss,
If he finds fault with such kind Wine as this,
For that to please his Taste he'd broach'd a fresher Piece.
Kept Cider in their Vaults with ill Design,
Yet vow they never mix but Wine with Wine;
Bought Eggs by Hundreds for their Cellars use,
The Yolks made Puddings, but the Whites for Juice.
For common Wine, unreasonably would ask
Six-Pence the more because 'twas in a Flask,
Bound with large Wickers, fill'd with heavy Port,
Sold for French Claret, wanting of a Quart.
And that their Crimes a deeper dye should take,
Ingratitude made all their Actions black;
For him wh' amongst 'em his Estate had spent,
When Poverty had brought him to repent
His Follies past, the Gainers in the end,
Would blame him most, and be the least his Friend.
Thus, says Hell's Pleader, I my Charge conclude,
And to your Lordship leave the Tipling Multitude.
The Judge sum'd up, in a short Speech, their Sins,
And then the Culprits Doom he thus begins.

For Evils done above, from whence you came,
Infernal Fevers shall your Souls inflame;
Eternal Drowth upon your Tongues shall dwell,
And all be fetter'd near an empty Well;
Fine Rivers at a distance shall you see,
Burnt Brandy shall your only Liquor be,
And in this State remain to all Eternity.