Their lot forbad—nor was it theirs, d’ye see?
The wretched in the toils of law to lure;
To prostitute their conscience for a fee,
And shut the gates of justice on the poor.
To try mean tricks to win a paltry cause,
With threadbare jests to catch the laugh of fools,
Or puff in court before all human laws,
The lofty wisdom of the last New Rules.
Not one rule nisi, even “to compute,”
Their gentle voices e’er were heard to pray,