Whose looks seem’d a passport for Botany Bay;
The lawyers, some with and some wanting a brief,
Around the green table were seated so gay:
Grave jurors and witnesses, waiting a call;
Attornies and clients, more angry than wise,
With strangers and town’s-people, throng’d the Guild-Hall,—
All waiting and gaping to see my Lord ’Size.
Oft stretch’d were their necks, oft erected their ears,
Still fancying they heard of the trumpets the sound,
When tidings arriv’d, which disolv’d them in tears,