While all professions else are found
With nothing but disputes t' abound:
Divines of all sorts, and physicians,
Philosophers, mathematicians;
The Galenist and Paracelsian,
Condemn the way each other deals in;
Anatomists dissect and mangle,
To cut themselves out work to wrangle;
Astrologers dispute their dreams,
That in their sleeps they talk of schemes;
And heralds stickle who got who,
So many hundred years ago.
But lawyers are too wise a nation
T'expose their trade to disputation,
Or make the busy rabble judges
Of all their secret piques and grudges;
In which, whoever wins the day,
The whole profession's sure to pay.
Beside, no mountebanks, nor cheats,
Dare undertake to do their feats,
When in all other sciences
They swarm like insects, and increase,
v. 475.] Galen was born in the year 130, and lived in the year 200. Paracelsus was born the latter end of the 15th, and lived almost to the middle of the 16th century,
For what bigot durst ever draw,
By inward Light, a deed in law?
Or could hold forth, by revelation,
An answer to a Declaration!
For those that meddle with their tools,
Will cut their fingers, if they're fools:
And if you follow their advice,
In bills and answers, and replies,
They'll write a love-letter in Chancery,
Shall bring her upon oath to answer ye,
And soon reduce her to b' your wife,
Or make her weary of her life.
The Knight, who us'd with tricks and shifts
To edify by Ralpho's Gifts,
But in appearance cry'd him down,
To make them better than his own,
(All plagiary's constant course
Of sinking, when they take a purse)
Resolv'd to follow his advice,
But kept it from him by disguise;
And, after stubborn contradiction
To counterfeit his own conviction,
And, by transition, fall upon
The resolution as his own.
them down, 1700, and following editions.
Quoth he, This gambol thou advisest
Is, of all others, the unwisest:
For, if I think by law to gain her,
There's nothing sillier nor vainer.
'Tis but to hazard my pretence,
Where nothing's certain but th' expense;
To act against myself, and traverse
My suit and title to her favours;
And if she should, which Heav'n forbid,
O'erthrow me, as the Fiddler did,
What after-course have I to take,
'Gainst losing all I have at stake?
He that with injury is griey'd,
And goes to law to be reliev'd,
Is sillier than a sottish chouse,
Who, when a thief has robb'd his house,
Applies himself to cunning men,
To help him to his goods agen;
When all he can expect to gain,
Is but to squander more in vain:
And yet I have no other way,
But is as difficult, to play;
For to reduce her, by main force,
Is now in vain; by fair means, worse;
But worst of all to give her over,
Till she's as desperate to recover:
For bad games are thrown up too soon,
Until they're never to be won;
But since I have no other course,
But is as bad t' attempt, or woise,
He that complies against his will,
Is of his own opinion still,
Which he may adhere to, yet disown;
For reasons to himself best known;
But 'tis not to b' avoided now,
For Sidrophel resolves to sue;
Whom I must answer, or begin,
Inevitably, first with him;
For I've receiv'd advertisement,
By times enough of his intent;
And knowing he that first complains
Th' advantage of the bus'ness gains;
For courts of justice understand
Have found out one to fit th' occasion,
Most apt for what I have to do,
As counsellor, and justice too.
And truly so, no doubt, he was,
A lawyer fit for such a case.
An old dull sot, who told the clock,
For many years, at Bridewell-dock,
At Westminster, and Hick's-hall,
And biccius doctius play'd in all;
Where, in all governments and times,
H' had been both friend and foe to crimes,
And us'd two equal ways of gaining,
By hind'ring justice, or maintaining:
To many a whore gave privilege,
And whipp'd for want of quarterage;
Cart-loads of bawds to prison sent,
For b'ing behind a fortnight's rent;
And many a trusty pimp and crony
To Puddle-dock for want of money:
Engag'd the constable to seize
All those that wou'd not break the peace;
Nor give him back his own foul words,
Tho' sometimes commoners, or lords,
And kept 'em prisoners of course,
For being sober at ill hours;
That in the morning he might free
Or bind 'em over for his fee.
Made monsters fine, and puppet-plays,
For leave to practise in their ways;
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