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My labour I renew, but having seen ,
How ill dispos'd my former truth hath been
I grow a little wiser, and agree
To make an essay prove an ironie.
Then what profession shall I now disgrace?
Reproofe is thought to have no better face
Then impudence or malice, and is thought
To be a scandall by corruption wrought.
Tis true a thriving knowledge hath by some
Who lack'd such happy wit, been thought a scum,
And under shadow of reproofe hath beene
Made an extreame derision to be seene,
Nay made a publike injury to please
Them who should punish the contempt and ease
That shamefull envy, till it doth remaine
As empty as the rugged authors braine.
Alas I am too modest and obscure,
I shew in darke reproofe what is impure,
And therfore have beene blamed. But I will now
Speake with an open zeale and disavow
The mincing tearmes of caution. If I faile
To speake my meaning let me nere prevaile
To speake a righteous thought, and if I misse
Opinion of a tempered zeale in this,
I shall account it glory, For the thing
Needs such a poets vehemence to sing
Her hated trophies that will neither care
To purchase hate, nor will his knowledge spare.
Nay such a poet that will be most glad,
In her defence to be accounted mad.
Thine, whose provoking rarity doth draw
My soule unto thy rescue. Thou hast made
Way through the bloudy and victorious blade
Of Danes and Normans to maintaine thy right,
And hast preservd thine honour in despight
Of time and conquest. Like Religion, thou
Hast among persecutions gotten through:
And when prevailing rage of sword and lance
Threatned thy titles, then didst thou advance.
Nay (which is miracle) thy beauties have
Enforc'd the cruell forrainer to sue
And thinke them precious. All insatiate warre,
Which doth not learning and men learned spare,
Had not the power to demolish thee,
Nor time, to which the greatest fortunes be
Condemned vassailes, nor distracting change
That almost doth all noble arts estrange.
Nor nice opinion that doth oft supplant
The holy truth and make the best recant.
These (which hve ruin'd others) did increase
Thy native glory and augment thy peace.
When strict invasion overcame the land,
Thou hadst the grace within thee to command,
Nay to intice the flinty Conqueror.
He who had strong sufficience to abhorre
Thy bliss-full knowledge, he was well content
To love thee and obey thy regiment.
Can it be said a stranger did embrace
Thine infant worth, and shall thine aged face
Be now forgotten and derided then
By those who call themselves thy country-men?
It is, and undergoes the shamefull mocke
Of them who have consum'd their idle stocke
Of witty jesting: It is now the way
To keepe a writers credit from decay.
If he can foyst into his fly-blowne stuffe
Some twenty law-tearmes, he hath wit enough:
The very basest wretch (who cannot lay
Matter in two yeares for a ragged play)
Will taxe the law with errors most untrue,
And teach the follies which it never knew.
Poore sneaking fellowes who be discontent
With every fashion, art, and argument
Which doth not magnifie their witlesse rimes
Produce the law to prove our wicked times.
Be these examples fitting to direct
Thy ripe inventions, and to tutor thee
Who art, if well awak'd, most fit and free
To tutor all the world? Is plenties date
So much exspir'd that thou must imitate?
What prodigall and riotous expence
Hath turn'd thee bankroupt? Is thy nobler sence
Now punish'd for mispending former cost,
Or be thy riches by aduenture lost?
Hast thou not carefull been to multiply
Thy precious wealth, or did the parties dye,
Or else run mad, on whom thou hast disposd
Thy honour'd portions? Is thy wealth inclosd
Where none but worthy men may it behold?
Or be thy worthy poets cheapely sold
As bondslaues to detraction? Or what then?
Hath thy good nature trusted many men
And doe they all forget to pay thee now?
Some have enough to spend but care not how,
And so perhaps thy poets, have they so?
Good poets write whether they will or no
And worthily, why therfore doe not they?
Dost thou or nature curse them with delay,
Or doth thy bounty turne to poysoned gall?
Else art thou growne so covetous withall
That thou canst nothing spare but mouldy sauce
To welcome and deserve the Kings applause?
Thou keepst those wits within thy plenteous hand
Who can establish works with easie choise,
Worthy to be commended by the voice
Of God and angels, but it hath been tolde
Sound wits are modest, shallow-braines are bold,
And therefore did the law-tearme poet weene
To please a publike eare with private spleene.
Now (o the pitty!) that a misconceite
Of some should all the law and lawyers baite.
“Content your selfe.” saith Ignoramus, “I
Taxe not the law, but lawyers vanity,
Nor do I taxe good lawyers, but the ranke
Of those who purchase wealth and yet are blank.”
Content thy selfe, slight Ignoramus, I
Am well acquainted with your pollicy:
You in the fencers trick are deeply read,
And offering at the foot you meane the head,
As doth a rebell who hath taken armes.
He promises to helpe his countries harmes,
But hath a meaning to supprise the towne
And make the totall regiment his owne
Such was thy meaning to disgrace the law
Under a colour'd trick, and wisely draw
That honour to yourselves which followes them.
Invisible designements? You proclaime
Your meanings in each taverne, will you blame
Those that believe you when you do rejoyce
That lawyers be offended with your noise?
Trust me, a tender mercy doth inforce
Be to compassion and a silent course,
When any crime that doth deserve the scourge
Is too much tortur'd. I had rather urge
Defence for folly then reproofe when all
Insult upon it, and so much miscall
An easie error that it gathers strength.
I feele methinkes a happy scorne at length
To adde my curses to the vulgar curse,
In the most hatefull mischiefe. It is worse
To over-punish crimes then to commit.
I doe abhor to exercise my witt
On a most troden theame, and doe account
A sleepy cave better then such a mount.
Me thinks 'tis noble, and most humane too,
If I forbeare when I might freely doo.
And could that sparke of goodnes be in you
So much forgotten that you durst allow
The broad contempt of them whose happines
All common envy labours to make lesse?
Did it seeme honest, politicke, or wise,
Humane, or vertuous to you to devise
So bad a proiect, and to multiply
The times detraction with an open lye?
What will you answer? What will you compose
Able to make defence in vearse or prose?
Your libell was bespoken by the King.
For no evasion can your wisedome spare
Except the foolish one: “I doe not care.”
But Ignoramus may conceive that I
Am over-earnest now, and may reply
“Things are as they be taken,” and indeed
Things oft be taken worser then they need.
But you and your additions doe expound
Your hearty tryumphes unto malice bound,
Seeking (as if you had forsworne the law
Of reason and of reverence) to misdrawe
That ornament of men, and to annoy
The chiefest justice and the chiefest joy
That our law doth acknowledge. Were it so
As the report already seemes to know,
You should affixe unto your tainted place
Eternity of shame and of disgrace.
Was this the fittest way to be reliev'd?
Perhaps you doe account it as your griefe
Because the judge hath spar'd som scholler theefe,
And so his mercy hath corrupted more.
This might excuse and get amends before
Such bold invectives, but you doe prolong
Your strife say your suites haue sufferd wrong.
So so: impatient arrogance will finde
The way to quarrell when her eyes be blinde.
For though men conquer a malicious hart
And give no causes to complaine of smart,
Nay, turne her quickest sences into steele
That (though a cause were given) she might not feele,
Yet would she (rather then be mute) suggest
Causes of quarrell out of sleepy rest.
Nay, 'tis a schollers vice and veniall pride
To thinke his owne conceit the surer side.
If therefore he dislike the lawes intent
We may neglect his tales with merriment
And pardon what he saith. For every youth
In Cambridge seemes to understand the truth
Of logick and philosophy so plaine
That other truth he holdes in much disdaine,
Or he beleives the colledges know all,
And onely truth approves which they so call.
And hearing them dislike the lawyers brood
When suites decline or cases be not good,
He lookes no further then the grudging fame,
And is not ready to discerne, but blame.
Nay rather all become so valiant
That they abhorre to be thought ignorant
Of any truth in law, because our ile
Hath call'd it Common and makes John a Stile
The rustick worde so frequent in our bookes.
And therfore with contempt each scholler looks
Upon the weighty meanings, whose pure light
Hath iron gates to stop their scornfull sight.
Though they presume their sight can reach the starres,
And therfore they proceed in simple jarrs,
And then exclaime upon the lawyers sence
When they doe loose through idle confidence.
The lawes proceedings when they loose their game,
For though they win and suffer no disgrace,
Their best opinion of the law is base.
But it is possible a poets witt
Should be so flesh'd in mischiefe to commit
Rape with an matron and despoile
Her honor'd gravity with impious toile,
Except his former sinnes have taught before
The way to gett some bastard by a whoore?
I cannot thinke it possible, nor may,
Till proofe convert my thoughts another way.
He seemes (like one in reputation crost)
By desperate meanes to purchase what he lost.
Perhaps the fabulist can tell vs why
This writer tooke a theme of injury,
And as the chariot-driver ask'd his wheele
Wherfore it creak'd, which answered “I do feele
The want of that,which stopps a creaking voice,”
So the lowde Ignoramus may rejoyce
To learne this answer and protest with it:
He tooke meere sound because he wanted witt.
And canst not nipp the substance of our law;
(For busie fooles may blot but cannot sinkeTruth may be blamed but cannot be shamed.
Through solid stuffe with aqua fortis inke).
Let us a while examine your delight
And search the wounds where you most deeply bite.
You bring a large confused heape of noyse,
Voires dire, writs, and vocall empty toyes
To prove the lawes discredit. Then you joyne
A lawyers hearty love to yellow coyne
And then you snarle against our simple French
As if you had beene pepperd with your wench.
And then right harmeles Dulman doth inchant
The scaene with teaching Latine how to cant.
O most rare subject and bewitching scaene,
Able to make the fattest hearer leane!
If he would truly thinke how little paines
Doth fasten credit upon lucky braines,
When full deservings prove infortunate,
And neither purchase fame in love nor hate.
Doth not a lawyer that same angell see l
Tempting divines to flatter and belie
The dead, which tempted him to falsifie
The living truth? Resolve me, which of both
Approches neerest to a lewd untroth?
I thinke it worser to commit the sinne
That shall not be rebuk'd, and which will winne
Strength because uncontrold then to protect
An error which the court will contradict.
And if you talke of learning, they alone
Can yeeld us twenty dunces backe for one.
Then was the lyon wise, which gravely said,
“Asses may blowe the trumpet in our ayde.”
But you procure the king to laugh enough,
I darde not say to like such thredbare stuffe.
Because the tearmes are over-growne with age
May scorn the wrincles which have smoother beene
And love a strumpet with her painted skin.
Or he may mocke his mothers countenance
When it growes witherd by continuance.
Law is the kingdomes mother. She by light
Conceives, and is delivred of mens right,
And all her phrases which be wrincled now
Once had a youthfull and a lovely brow.
But is it lawfull to embase the true
And auncient Latine with devises new?
Embase we doe not, but enlarge we may
Where words approv'd wil not our sence convey.
You shall be taught to grace your native land
With yeelding love and honour to defend
Your countries credit, which the lawes intend.
Rich natures worke most absolute and wise
Doth give the liberty which you despise.
You may observe how in this earthly globe
She cloathes each creature with a suiting robe.
The quiet lambe she doth adorne with wooll
And makes the parot fine a beautious gull,
But because strength and durance are within
She cloathes the lyon with a rugged skin.
And such an outside doth become the part
Of a prevailing and perpetuall art,
An art which hath no meaning to respect
A mighty person and the poore neglect,
An art which in her habit rude and plaine
Disclaimes to be provok'd with love or gaine.
And with such art is Englands mother blest,
Being in all her lively habit drest.
Therefore I thinke it wisdome to adorne
The law with out-side which may merit scorne
That, like a wealthie farmer clad in frise,
She may preserve her treasure in disguise.
For, being like a glorious dame arraid,
Her tempting beauties then were all betraid
To multitude of suiters, and her love
Would more then infinite contentions move.
A beauteous woman, and behold how all
Spend their devotions, sacrifice their braine,
Engage their lives and credit to maintaine
That mappe of coulors:. Every man may see
Her suiters (though but two) will disagree
About her love. Nay, striving to be blest,
Each will presume he hath more interest,
And will the simplest wretch conceive that shee,
I meane our law and makers dignitie,
She, our Almighties minion, can display
Her quicke transparance, and not steale away
Mens deere affections? Or can she remove
Her vaile, and will not her attracting love
Provoke the wisest men to quarrell? Yes,
Love a conceit and firme opinion is,
And knowledge doth beget amasing doubts.
Then love with knowledge doth inspire the thoghts
To chuse opinion. Knowledge, being wide,
Can both maintaine opinion and divide.
So then contentions follow. Such would bee
The force of law if every man could see.
Admit she were adornd with costly phrase,
Admit all nations did her merits blaze,
And that the sweetest beautie she can take,
Would neither dotage nor dissention make.
Yet, having many suiters, she must minde
The due respect of all or prove unkinde,
Which would exceed her large (but aequal) dowre
If she were courted by more courts then foure.
Why be they suffred to abuse their text
And make the Gospell speake against our Law?
When as the text (which they enforce to gnaw
Upon a lawyers credit) doth concerne
Their owne reproach, if they could well discerne.
O listen you that have but common sence
And marke with what injurious violence
They doe compell the Scripture. I haue knowne
Cynnicks to such a spightfull blindnes growne
That, on the silly wordes of Balaams asse,
They would inferre what slave a lawyer was.
The forraine papist is, against his will,
Beholding to our law, and must be still:
For we and our proceedings undergoe
A fury which the Pope and Rome should know.
The witty students doe endeavour thus
With squibbes and crackers against onely us
In such abundance that their wits be spent
E're they confute a Popish argument.
I cannot guesse what fatall curse incites
Their fluent envy, which (in triumph) bites,
But well assur'd I am that onely they
Whose lives their guilty meaning doe betray
Despise a lawyer, when the best divines
Scorne to be noted by such daring signes.
But others seeme as if their hungry mawes
Were cramm'd with all corruption of our lawes,
And that in chusing of a text they meane
To purge their guts and make their stomacks clean.
For any scriptures peece, like hellebore,
Rumbles within them, and doth bring up store
Of cholericke vomit in the lawyers face,
Whilst I lament their high and sacred place
And mavaile why the circle cannot charme
That frantick method, but be made a farme
To sowe and nourish byting nettle seed
Or slips of hemlocke. Rather it indeed
Is growne the charmed fortresse to condemne,
But cannot justifie their zeale, nor them.
For most of all their vehemence depends
On earthly zeal and prostituted ends.
Either they seeke to please themselves and men,
Or to displease their enemie, or then
To credit their owne colledge, or withall
To be accounted sharpe and cynicall,
Or to be great. or to discharge their name
And place least they incurre a publike shame.
The worthy men, whom no such end attaints,
Shall, if they come to me, become my saints.
To blame the truth or prove incredulous.
We shall a powerfull doctrine best obey,
Not thinking why but what they doe display.
Yet I doe wish them as a stander-by,
Henceforth to learne aright both what and why,
Least, seeming zealous, you doe make withall
God as a shadow to your secret gall.
It is a thing so common to traduce
The lawyer and besprinckle bitter juyce
That I (before some preacher doth begin)
Dare lay a wager he will raile and win.
For I have often heard such fuming stuffe
Presented to an audience all in snuffe,
That (trust me) I have wondred in my minde
Whether he spake before or spake behinde.
And so the parson spake (unlesse I faile)
Who preach'd of Tobyes dog that wagd his taile.
What? Shall the sacred learning which affrights
And conjures down the most inhumane sprights
Be so distracted with a sudden curse
That it must raise up spirits and much worse?
And yet from thence proceed things often good,
As from the fountaine of most heavenly food.
For Scorne itselfe and Envy must confesse
That many there excell in worthinesse.
If Passion sometimes did not Zeale condemne
We should account them gods and worship them.
Most voide of matter, will thus talke aloud:
“O the most gryping lawyer who doth make
Dissention upon earth, and mony take
On this side and on that side, and doth love
His gold and money, and dissention move,
Is not the lawyers wicked, then I say,
And very wicked, brethren? And, I pray,
Is it not shamefull, brethren? Fye for shame
That lawyers should love mony and enflame
Their hearts with love of silver, and so leave
Goodnes to turne a lawyer and deceive.
And then like covetous lawyers—” Thus he lay
Out-lawd in breath and knew not what to say.
Let me demand your purpose: doe you meane
To cleanse a dish with dish-clouts more unclean?
The most abusive scorne which man dares know
Upon the lawes profession. You that take
A patterne by damnations rule to make
The lawyer seeme more hatefull, and beleeve
Hate merits heaven, which may the lawyer grieve.
I pray resolve me (poets) doe you meane
To make that rampant and immodest queane,
Your Muse, the lawyers mistres, and repaire
A place infected with unwholsome ayre?
What? Doth a patient blame physitians skill
Because th' apothecary wrongs his bill?
You blame the lawyers gaine, and will not see
How offices consume the greater fee.
For as a pothecaries bills depend
On the physitian to surcharge his friend,
So, to surcharge the clyent, offices
Depend upon a lawyers busines.
To lawyers makes you practise a \debate
Whilst you declaime against the very sinne,
I pray resolve me, who hath ever beene
So fruitles in extreame reproofe as you?
Or after long invectiues who did know
So small detraction of the common strife?
What? Doe you purpose to amend our life
With bitter malice? Can reviling phrase
Make lawyers quiet? O you do amaze
My little braine with wonder. You may please
To see how furious windes do move the seas
And make the ocean roare when gentle gales
Adde a faire swiftnes to the marchants sailes,
When milde reproofe might quicken vertues age.
But you, as many doctors do, or can,
Seeming to heale the vice, abhorre the man.
You doe pretend with phisicke rules to cure
The lawes diseases, which might well indure
A potion, (I confesse) for you that urge
Might well endure a potion and a purge.
But you, pretending wisely to display
The cure of lawyers cannot finde the way.
You know the perfect method to displease,
But neither constitution nor disease.
You thinke a sanguine body cholericke,
And so your potion makes the lawyer sicke.
Lawyers be sanguine, lively, firme and free,
No marvaile then your medcines disagree.
For God himselfe may this full truth dispearce,
Medcines make sound men froward and perverse.
That lawyers do, as all professions, lay
Some part of meaning to increase their state,
And do deserve your phisicke not your hate.
Is therefore the disease so violent,
Or they so crazy, that with one consent
You must apply quicke medcines all the yeere?
The spring and autumne be fit times to cleere
A fowle grosse body. Then are they so foule
That all times must the lawyers art controule?
Small phisick knowledge may perswade you thus
That things which grow familiar with us
Can have no mightie vertue to prevaile,
Though taken seldome they do never faile.
For neither poyson'd sops nor opiates can
Releive or trouble an accustom'd man.
Nor can reproofe enforc'd with daily care
Make vitious people better then they are.
And we must thanke you or your holy love,
But will a pained sick-man safely trust
The phisicall advice of him who must
Inherit when the patient is dead?
You churchmen know, (and cannot be misled)
That you may claime by gift the next estate
If our lawes body did give way to fate.
And therefore all the world may well suspect
Your phisicke savours of a strange effect.
But all your subtile nips and privie querks
Doe prove such poore and un-prevailing yerks,
That you provided have a mastife dogge
Who runs about because he wants his clogge. note
But (thanks to wisedome and our bodies might)
The toothles roaring curre can hardly bite,
I meane your mastiffe Ignoramus now,
Who tooke his valors breath from only you.
And yet that engin of authority
(which makes the lesser fabricke stop and fly)
Might rather be propounded. For conceite
And all upon her lawles pleasure waite.
The world appeares most like a puppet-play
Wherein the motions walke, performe and say
Nothing but what the master will advance,
Though every tricke proclaimes dull ignorance.
Thus greatnes doth prevaile. What remedie?
May freely place among the soundest men),
Be still undaunted in your worth and then
Their pittied clamorous malice wil prove hoarce
And dumb, while you preferre an honest course.
Vapors be rais'd and exhalations flye
When the most fervent sunne appeares in skye.
Summer and heavenly sunshine do provoke
The noysome fennes to yeeld an ugly smoake
Which upward mounts but cannot touch the sun,
Although it should above the compasse runne.
So lawyers glory (which deserving paines,
Knowledge and study have enrich'd with gaines)
Doth move the sordid breath of baser wits
(As doth the sun prevaile in muddy pits)
To yeeld a stinking vapor, not defile
Lawyers with madnes and revenge more vile.
But as the sunne doth readily consume
And turne to nothing the poore vaprous fume;
So shall the lawyers bright and purer flame
Of good example turne contempt to shame.
Hath rank'd among the baser multitude,
With admiration I salute your peace,
Which hath been calme and patient while the seas
With boystrous fury did assaie to drowne
Your dearest hopes and pull your trophys down.
My riper knowledge and experience
Of your most often torturd innocence
So troubles me that I in serious sort,
Could wisely now forsweare to trust report.
My thoughts are all to narrow to disclose
Your manly suffering, which doth interpose
The vildest sharpe reproofe that may be borne,
And so confutes them with a noble scorne.
O I doe feele a heart above my power
To save your merits from the fatall shower
Of their detracting spight, and to disclowd
Your vertues lost in the confused crowd
Of headstrong rumor, which your foes invent
To nourish their detracting argument.
This only comfort I will now propound;
Give loosers leave to speake, which is the ground
Of all our foes abusive speech. For they,
Having lost manners and discretion, may
Speake boldly and be blameles though they raile.
But may their spight increase and matter faile.
And so, sweet poetry, I take my leave.
My greatest follies are already past,
And after noone I shall have breath'd my last.Finis
