So huge, that men (in our time's forwardness)
Are fathers of the church for writing less.
These he writes not, nor for these written pays,
Therefore spares no length (as in those first days,
When Luther was profest, he did desire
Short paternosters, saying as a friar
Each day his beads, but having left those laws,
Adds to Christ's prayer the power and glory clause).
But when he sells or changes land, he impairs
His writings, and (unwatched) leaves out ses heires,
And slyly as any commenter goes by
Hard words or sense; or in divinity
As controverters in vouched texts leave out
Shrewd words which might against them clear the doubt."
in the Third Satire of the second book, animadverts on the law and lawyers:
"Who doubts? the laws fell down from heav'n's height,
Like to some gliding star in winter's night?
Themis, the scribe of God, did long agone
Engrave them deep in during marble stone,
And cast them down on this unruly clay,
That men might know to rule and to obey.
But now their characters depraved bin,
By them that would make gain of others' sin.
And now hath wrong so mastered the right,
That they live best that on wrong's offal light.
So loathly fly, that lives on galled wound,
And scabby festers inwardly unsound,
Feeds fatter with that poisonous carrion,
Than they that haunt the healthy limbs alone.
Woe to the weal where many lawyers be,
For there is sure much store of malady.
'Twas truly said, and truly was foreseen,
The fat kine are devoured of the lean.
Genus and Species long since barefoot went
Upon their ten toes in wild wonderment; 1
Whiles father Bartoll 2 on his footcloth rode,
Upon high pavement gaily silver strow'd.
Each homebred science percheth in the chair
While sacred arts grovel on the groundsel bare.
Since peddling Barbarisms 'gan be in request,
Nor classic tongues, nor learning found no rest,
The crouching client, with low bended knee,
And many worships, and fair flattery,
Tells on his tale as smoothly as him list,
But still the lawyer's eye squints on his fist;
If that seem lined with a larger fee,
Doubt not the suit, the law is plain for thee.
Tho' must he buy his vainer hope with price,
Dishclout his crowns, and thank him for advice.
So have I seen in a tempestuous stowre,
Some briar-bush showing shelter from the show'r,
Unto the hopeful sheep that fain would hide
His fleecy coat from that same angry tide:
The ruthless briar, regardless of his plight,
Lays hold upon the fleece he should acquite,
And takes advantage of the careless prey,
That thought she in securer shelter lay.
The day is fair, the sheep would far to feed;
The tyrant briar holds fast his shelter's need,
And claims it for the fee of his defence:
So robs the sheep, in favour's fair pretence."
I I.e., the professor of logic is obliged to go a-foot.
2 Bartolus, a civil lawyer of the fourteenth century.
educated to the law, excuses his desertion to literature,
"Shall I hereafter act another part,
Phoebus abandon for Bartholu's art?
Turn o'er the Institutes, thumb Littleton,
And draggling at my tail a dirty gown,
Pick up for every cause a double crown?
But at the very thought I start, and find
The Bar and I shall ne'er be of a mind.
Can I in such a barbarous country bawl,
And rend with venal lungs the guilty hall;
Where innocence does daily pay the cost,
And in the labyrinth of law is lost;
Where wrong by tricks and quirks prevails o'er right,
And black is by due form of law made white;
Garvin outnoised by Graham yields the prize,
And Ciceros are formed o'er mutton pies?
E'er I a thought like this can entertain,
Frost shall at midsummer congeal the Seine;
His Holiness shall turn a Protestant,
Beecher wear lawn, and Tyng the elder cant."
The translation which I quote has dashes in place of the proper names, and I have ventured to supply the names which I think the poet must have intended.
In the Eighth Satire the following occurs:
"No eagle does upon his peerage sue,
And strive some meaner eagle to undo;
No fox was e'er suborned by spite or pay,
To swear his brother fox's life away;
Nor any hind, for impotence at rut,
Did e'er the stag into the Arches put,
Where a grave dean the congress might ordain,
And with that burlesque word his sentence stain.
They do no dreadful quo warranto fear,
Nor courts of sessions or assize are there,
No common pleas, queen's bench, or chancery bar;
But happier they, by nature's charter free,
Secure and safe, in mutual peace agree,
And know no other law but equity."
"What would he think, upon lord mayor's day,
Should he the pomp and pageantry survey,
Or view the judges, and their solemn train,
March with grave decency to kill a man?
What would he think of us, should he appear
In turn, amongst the crowds, at Westminster,
And there the hellish din and jargon hear,
Where Spencer and his pack, with deep mouth'd notes,
Drown Billingsgate and all its oyster boats?
There see the judges, serjeants, barristers,
Attorneys, counsellors, solicitors,
Criers, and clerks, and all the savage crew,
Which wretched man at his own charge undo?"
In his epistle to the Abbot des Roches, the poet
"Dost think, thou champion of thy church's rights,
That justice follows if the law invites ?
Would'st thou thy proud rebellious monks chastise?
Believe me, 'tis a dangerous enterprise.
Can Ausanet, tho' feed, secure the cause,
Convince the judges and compel the laws?
Tho' just thy suit, ne'er think it will succeed.
In vain the law directs, and lawyers plead.
Don't imitate the fools whom lust of gold
Provokes, and makes 'em in a process bold;
Don't at thy cost the greedy bench enrich,
Nor let litigious hopes thy mind bewitch;
For he who in a suit his weapon draws,
Is often beggar'd, tho' he gain his cause.
But who, the lawyers say, would lose his right?
The law has no respect for muck or might.
At Caen they preach this doctrine, where the son
The father follows, and is soon undone.
At Mons betimes the sire this lesson reads,
The son's soon taught, and son the sire succeeds.
But thou on this side of the Oise wert bred,
And wilt not with their follies fill thy head;
Nor wilt thou, like some hot incumbents, squeeze
The clowns, nor sue a peasant for a piece.
Nor e'er the law has ta'en its costly course,
Make bawling Mazier and Corbin hoarse.
No, no-but if thou e'er should'st long to fee
A lawyer, pr'ythee, first consult with me,
And if I can't these wicked thoughts disperse,
Read this old tale, which now I tell in verse:—
"It happen'd in a former wrangling age,
An author writes (no matter for the page),
Two travelers, for breakfast ready found
A fat stray oyster lying on the ground.
Says one, 'Tis mine; the other says the same:
And hot they grew, and hunger fann'd the flame.
Who should come by, while they debating stand,
But Justice, with the balance in her hand.
To her they both applied. She heard the cause,
And found them bent to leave it to the laws.
She weighed the matter, and to end it well,
Opened the fish, and gave to each a shell.
'Thus,' having swallowed it at once, she cried,
'We judge the cause, and thus the goods divide.
What, but for fools, would law and lawyers do?
'Twas a good oyster, gentlemen: adieu.'”
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