Oh! Court of Equity, misnamed, where doubt
Leads many in; whence few, or none, get out;
Where law presides, in semblance, but to mock,—
Like priests, that pray round felons on the block;—
Where justice sits, with even-handed scale,
To shew the heaviest purse,—which must prevail—
Where Truth confounded flies, or ne’er is seen,
And Falsehood flourishes—an evergreen;—
Where foul Corruption keeps his secret cave,
And robs the suitor he pretends to save.—
Oh! Court, before whose gate, with reddened eye
Pale Reason stands, and bids each Plaintiff fly;
Bids right shake hands with fraud, nor tempt the strife,
Begun in sorrow—ending not with life—
The legal contest, which may never cease,—
A cure perhaps—but worse than the disease—
Oh! Court, where dull Procrastination reigns
Lacking decision—not for want of brains—
Which crowds of spectres haunt their doom to know
In suits commenced two centuries ago—
Where all is wrong, and nothing certain, save
A blasted fortune, and an early grave.
Behold yon clown, whose frugal care has made
A pretty something in his humble trade;—
Fit object now for pillage of the law!—
He sells a field;—the vendee finds a flaw—
What mean those writings underneath his arm?
Why rise those smirks of gratulation warm
From hungry black-coats,—eager for the prey,—
Who crowd the boro’ on a market day—[1]
The game is up—around the blood-hounds close,
And snuff their victim with prophetic nose.
The case he tells most luminously dark,
And puzzles (what will not?) each country shark.
An action bring, your right at once to try
Cries one;—an action bring the rest reply—
All to one object with one feeling tend,—
Deceit the means, and robbery the end.
But how much will it cost? the rustic cries,
A song, a song—the ready fox replies—
For fifty pounds your battle will be won,
The thing, my friend, is clearer than the sun.
You know our office, come with me and look,
This very point is in the statute book,
Confirmed by fifty judges dead and gone,—
Each wiser in his time than Solomon—
If still from caution sage you fear to err,
Resort at once to some King’s Counsellor;
His fee’s two guineas—or about the mark—
With two and sixpence more to bribe his clerk,
Lest on the shelf your case despised should rot,
Or lose its turn, and be at last forgot.
The Gudgeon bites, and lawyer Grabble gains
Another Client to reward his pains.
A case is drawn, ingrossed, and sent to town,
And twelve months after comes th’ opinion down.
Ill brooks exhausted Patience such a spell,
Tho’ loth to quarrel with the name of Bell.
What does he promise failure or success?
His words are few, and those one can but guess—
Like strange Egyptian characters of yore,
Or pot-hooks drawn upon an alehouse door,
Or like the scrawls a spider’s legs might trace,
When dipt in ink, upon as white a space—[2]
“He cannot say, but much inclines to doubt
“The vendee’s object will be brought about;
“And thinks the vendor has an equal chance,
“The law so much depends on circumstance—
“He knows not half the facts, so would advise
“That all disputes should end in compromise—
“But, if the vendor wish his luck to try,
“He straight must file a bill in Chancery.”[3]
Well have we sped, exulting Grabble shouts,
For all is sure, when cautious Johnny doubts—
The client nods, uncertain what is meant,
And therefore fearful to withhold assent.
Forth, with instructions goes the post that eve,
And crafty Grabble chuckles in his sleeve—
Instructions for a bill, which agents wile
Before the term’s last day may hope to file.
How vain that hope!—the dusty papers lie
For eighteen months within the draftsman’s eye.
To all complaints he beats the ready chime:—
“More weighty matters had beguiled his time—
“Injunctions, that would not admit delay,
“Answers, demurrers—and the motion day,
“All marr’d his wishes to effect dispatch,
“Though failing not each leisure hour to snatch.
“Vacation comes, and then he will be able
“To clear with ease his now o’erloaded table.” [4]
Vacation past;—the agent calls again,
And finds the draftsman just returned from Spain.
The soot-clad parcel lies unopened still,
Knaw’d by the rats, that hunger else would kill—
At last ’tis done, and then it must be sent
To country down for final settlement.
Then queries on the margin rise, like apes,—
And here and there a long hiatus gapes.
Facts change like mortals in a fairy tale,
And from a herring fancy coins a whale.
Then crowds of thrice repeated words express
What might be done in twenty thousand less;—
The whole one precious jargon, fitted well
To serve for fewel in a lawyer’s hell.
But what says Grabble?—as the folios mount,
He must demand some money on account,[5]
To pay the counsel and the court their fees,
Lest justice’ wheels be clogg’d for want of grease.
The client deep into his pocket dives;
To part with cash his inmost bowel rives;
With deep-drawn sighs he counts each stiver o’er,
And deems the law a most infernal bore.
What gall’d already? not so quick, my friend,
Or rage will turn to madness in the end.
Who takes a voyage but expects to be
Annoy’d at first by sickness on the sea?
Should weak impatience make him growl and weep,
His friends would laugh, and bid him shun the deep.
Aye, shun, but how? why look before you leap.
When once embark’d, no more can wisdom say;
Endure the billows, bluster as they may.
But to proceed. The draft by Grabble’s pen
Revised, must travel back to town again;
Again must be, neglected as before,
On draftman’s desk for fifteen months or more;
Again must wander o’er the self-same track
From town to country, and from country back.
At last ’tis settled: then must clerks begin
To cut, prepare, and rule the parchment skin;
Then will their zeal demand an overpay,
And turn, for expedition, night to day,
T’ ingross, examine, file;—another week
At least ’twill take; subpœnas then bespeak.
The seal is shut, and, if you wish them soon,
It must be open’d by a special boon—
The sum two guineas[6]. Eldon! fie, for shame!
Nay, truth’s a libel, spare his lordship’s fame.
His wants are many, and his stipend clear
Scarce mounts to forty thousand pounds a year.
’Tis said, that justice to each subject down
Flows in a stream untainted from the crown.
Then say, can kings for justice gold demand?
If not, why claims that right a meaner hand?
As well to Peter might a bribe be given
For keeping (not the seals) but keys of heav’n!
Defendant serv’d, five months must pass, or near,
Before the law compels him to appear;
For like some barren tree deprived of fruit,
In long vacation is a country suit;
Or, like a vessel by receding tide,
Left helpless on the shore, where it must bide
Till tracing back its course the stream once more shall glide.
Term come, then try the process of contempt,
If still defendant should delay attempt.
Seal an attachment; bear the rogue to goal,
And hope your efforts may at last prevail.
But ah! what sadness clouds that altered mein?
What, if at large the stubborn foe is seen?—
His freedom gained, he pays the whole expense—
Not so, the practice is a vile pretence.
The greater loss from wrong to right rebounds;
Ten shillings his, and thine as many pounds. [7]
Appearance entered, but renews the sport;
Demand an answer by the clerk in court.
He calls, like Glendower for a magic band
Of Ocean sprites, that come not at command.
He calls once more in peremptory terms and clear;
But none so deaf as those who will not hear. [8]
At length an order comes,—if sharp the spur—
For six weeks time to answer, plead, demur.
Thus to some famish’d dog, that asks a bone,
Derision throws with scorn the flinty stone:
He seeks but little, and that little sought
With eagerness, when gain’d, amounts to nought.
’Tis all a mockery from first to last;—
Wait must the Plaintiff, and the mongrel fast.
Six weeks are gone—once more the game’s alive;
Once more for breath must the Defendant strive.
Hark! thro’ the purlieus dark of Chancery Lane
The dogs are roused,—the chase begins again,—
Again delay pursues its wonted chime,—
And claims at last another rule for time.