Who what he pleases may aver,
The other, nothing, till he swear;
Is freely admitted to all grace,
And lawful favour, by his place;
And, for his bringing custom in,
Has all advantages to win:
I, who resolve to oversee
No lucky opportunity,
Will go to council, to advise
Which way t’ encounter, or surprise;
And, after long consideration,
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 clock207
For many years at Bridewell-dock,
At Westminster, and Hicks’s-Hall,
And Hiccius 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 quarteradge;
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;208
Engag’d the constable to seize
All those that would not break the peace,
Nor give him back his own foul words,
Though 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,209
For leave to practise in their ways;
Farm’d out all cheats, and went a share
With th’ headborough and scavenger;
And made the dirt i’ th’ streets compound
For taking up the public ground;
The kennel, and the king’s highway,
For being unmolested, pay;
Let out the stocks, and whipping-post,
And cage, to those that gave him most;
Impos’d a tax on bakers’ ears,
And for false weights on chandeliers;
Made victuallers and vintners fine
For arbitrary ale and wine;
But was a kind and constant friend
To all that regularly offend;
As residentiary bawds,
And brokers that receive stol’n goods;
That cheat in lawful mysteries,
And pay church duties and his fees;
But was implacable, and awkward,
To all that interlop’d and hawker’d.
To this brave man the Knight repairs
For council in his law-affairs;
And found him mounted in his pew,
With books and money plac’d for show,
Like nest-eggs, to make clients lay,
And for his false opinion pay:
To whom the knight, with comely grace,
Put off his hat to put his case;
Which he as proudly entertain’d
As th’ other courteously strain’d;
And, to assure him ’twas not that
He look’d for, bid him put on ’s hat.
Quoth he, There is one Sidrophel,
Whom I have cudgell’d—Very well.
And now he brags t’ have beaten me—
Better and better still, quoth he.
And vows to stick me to a wall,
Where’er he meets me—Best of all.
’Tis true, the knave has taken ’s oath
That I robb’d him—Well done, in troth.
When h’ has confess’d he stole my cloak,
And pick’d my fob, and what he took;
Which was the cause that made me bang him,
And take my goods again—Marry, hang him.
Now whether I should before-hand,
Swear he robb’d me?—I understand.
Or bring my action of conversion
And trover for my goods?—Ah, whoreson!
Or if ’tis better to indite,
And bring him to his trial?—Right.
Prevent what he designs to do,
And swear for th’ state against him?—True.
Or whether he that is defendant
In this case has the better end on ’t;
Who, putting in a new cross-bill,
May traverse th’ action?—Better still.
Then there’s a Lady too—Aye, marry.
That’s easily prov’d accessary;
A widow, who, by solemn vows
Contracted to me, for my spouse,
Combin’d with him to break her word,
And has abetted all—Good Lord!
Suborn’d th’ aforesaid Sidrophel
To tamper with the dev’l of hell;
Who put m’ into a horrid fear,
Fear of my life—Make that appear.
Made an assault with fiends and men
Upon my body—Good agen.
And kept me in a deadly fright,
And false imprisonment, all night.
Meanwhile they robb’d me, and my horse,
And stole my saddle—Worse and worse.
And made me mount upon the bare ridge,
T’ avoid a wretcheder miscarriage.
Sir, quoth the Lawyer, not to flatter ye,
You have as good and fair a battery
As heart can wish, and need not shame
The proudest man alive to claim:
For if th’ have us’d you as you say,
Marry, quoth I, God give you joy.
I would it were my case, I’d give
More than I’ll say, or you’ll believe.
I would so trounce her, and her purse;
I’d make her kneel for better or worse;
For matrimony and hanging here
Both go by destiny so clear,
That you as sure may pick and choose,
As Cross, I win; and, Pile, you lose;
And, if I durst, I would advance
As much in ready maintenance,
As upon any case I’ve known;
But we that practise dare not own:
The law severely contrabands
Our taking bus’ness off men’s hands;
’Tis common barratry, that bears
Point-blank an action ’gainst our ears,
And crops them till there is not leather
To stick a pin in left of either;
For which some do the summer-sault,
And o’er the bar, like tumblers, vault,
But you may swear, at any rate,
Things not in nature, for the state;
For in all courts of justice here,
A witness is not said to swear,
But make oath; that is, in plain terms,
To forge whatever he affirms.
I thank you, (quoth the Knight) for that,
Because ’tis to my purpose pat—
For Justice, though she’s painted blind,
Is to the weaker side inclin’d,
Like Charity; else right and wrong
Could never hold it out so long,
And, like blind Fortune, with a sleight
Convey mens’ interest and right
From Stiles’s pocket into Nokes’s,210
As easily as Hocus Pocus;
Play fast and loose; make men obnoxious,
And clear again, like Hiccius Doctius.
Then whether you would take her life,
Or but recover her for your wife,
Or be content with what she has,
And let all other matters pass,
The bus’ness to the law ’s alone,
The proof is all it looks upon;
And you can want no witnesses
To swear to any thing you please,
That hardly get their mere expenses
By th’ labour of their consciences;
Or letting out to hire their ears
To affidavit customers,
At inconsiderable values,
To serve for jury-men or tallies,
Although retain’d in th’ hardest matters
Of trustees and administrators.
For that, quoth he, let me alone;
W’ have store of such, and all our own;
Bred up and tutor’d by our teachers,
The ablest of conscience-stretchers.
That’s well, quoth he; but I should guess,
By weighing all advantages,
Your surest way is first to pitch
On Bongey for a water-witch;211
And when y’ have hang’d the conjurer,
Y’ have time enough to deal with her.
In th’ int’rim, spare for no trepans
To
