THE EIGHTH LECTURE ON CONDUCTING A SUIT AT LAW.
(From the Second Edition of the PLEADER'S GUIDE, attributed to Mr. ANSTEY, Jun.)
Examination of Witnesses for the Plaintiff.
Mr. Simon Troat, Dissenting Preacher, Schoolmaster, examined by Mr. Bother'um-cross-examined by Mr. Bore'um. Evidence of Dr. Tench, Surgeon and Apothecary.
Bother um whispers his Attorney.
RAY, are our witnessess all here,
Our scaly friends, from Toadland Meer?
Here's Dr. Tench and preacher Trout,
And farmer Chubb will come, no doubt.
Pother. Call Simon Trout-we'll first begin
With Mr. Trout; come, swear him in.
Here, Simon, you shall (Silence there)
The truth, and all the truth declare,
And nothing but the truth be willing
To speak, so help you G-d,-(a shilling)-(aside.)
Trout's sworn,-
Pray, sir, did you attend
Th' election feast at Toadland's End?
The feast I mean before the poll-day?—
Trout. Yes, sir, I tarried there the whole day.
Albeit I never go to dinners,
To feast with publicans and sinners,
And ever it hath been my rule
On no account to quit my school,
As in my absence, I'm aware,
Satan will not be idle there!
I own, sir, I for once transgress'd it,
The inward light so strongly press'd it,
A call I never could withstand!
But touching the affair in hand,
As it regards the late election
I've but a feeble recollection
(Your inward light must fail you greatly,
(aside.) If you've forgot what pass'd so lately.-) Trout. There was a squabble and some oaths, And liquor spilt on plaintiff's clothes;
'Squire Gudgeon's face was bruis'd, I've heard;
His Sunday raiment much besmear'd;
And doctor Tench inform'd me
Don't tell us, sir, what Tench told you.
Bother. Stop, Mr. Bore'um, by your leave,-
Bore. My lord, I humbly do conceive-
Bother. These interruptions, I declare,
Would almost make a parson swear-
Bore. Do, Mr. Bother'um, let me speak-
Bother. Now he's begun, he'll talk this week-
Bore.
Well, Mr. Trout, so all you know then,
Is what you heard of plaintiff's clothing?
All hear-say is it?
No, sir, no,-
I lifted up mine eyes, and lo!
I did behold, in wrath, 'squire Gull,
Smite Mr. Gudgeon on the skull;
And doctor Tench, a wise, and wary,
And learned fen-apothecary,
Doubted, he said,-
Do stop, my friend,
Cannot I make you comprehend ?.
Bother. Come, sir, we won't detain you.-Gull,
You're sure, smote Gudgeon on the skull.
(Cross examined by Mr. Bore'um.)
Stay, Mr. What-d'ye-call him,
You say, you saw Gull bruise and maul him.
And you never go to dinners
To feast with publicans and sinners?
What, was the bludgeon pretty thick ?.
I cannot say I saw the stick.
Stay, sir, I think that you're a teacher,
A spiritual pastor, and a preacher.
Now recollect you're on your oath, sir.
Was there no boxing match --Speak out-
Nothing like fighting, master Trout? .
Trout. Why, verily, much strife arose,
Divers and sundry kinds of blows,
Much provocation too, albeit
I was not there at first to see it :
A song was humm'd which caus'd dissension,
And seem'd of heathenish invention;
Which, though it lack'd both wit and keenness,
Savour'd of malice and uncleanness;
And, sung with loud vociferation,
Rous'd the defendant's indignation,
Who seem'd to think it cast reflections
On him and all the Gull connexions.
This song, tho' spiritless, and dull,
Did sorely trouble Mr. Gull;
And, oft repeated in his ear,
Did cause him to blaspheme and swear,
'Till, G―d forgive him for't! he rose,
And seizing on 'squire Gudgeon's nose,
He squeez'd it 'twixt his thumb and finger-
Stampt on the song, and d-d the singer.
Now, when much strife and wrath ensu'd,
Both which I always have eschew'd,
I fled--but soon return'd to pray,
That Heaven would stop this sinful fray,
And we like brethren might agree,
And live in peace and unity.
Bother. Swear Dr. Tench.
Take off your glove, and kiss the book.
The doctor's sworn.
Good doctor Tench,
Pray tell the jury and the bench,
All that you saw and heard that day—
Tench. Sir, I know nothing of the fray;
I was call'd in at the conclusion,
T' inspect a vertical contusion :
Gudgeon was then without his shirt,
His body much besmear'd with dirt;
There was an ugly aukward cut
Ran quite athwart the occiput,
He'd have been comatose, I'm sure,
And far beyond my skill to cure,
Had I been call'd ten minutes later-
I trembled for the dura mater:
The cuticle, or outward skin,
Portended something wrong within.
The fauces in a sad condition!
Betwixt the nares no partition!
But both so forc'd into conjunction-
Th' olfactories declin'd their function;
Some teeth were broke and some were lost,
The incisores suffer'd most ;
Much mischief done to the molares,
And, what a very strange affair is,
Not the least symptom could I see
Of dentes sapientiæ.
In all my pugilistic cases,
At feasts, elections, fairs, and races,
A worse than this I never met,
Nor ever saw an instance yet,
In all that branch of my profession,
Where blows have made so much impression:
Optics, my lord, a perfect jelly!
One large contusion on the belly,
Two on the costæ, and, as I guess,
A kick upon the os coccygis,
Had caused a tuber, or a bump,
Around the region of the rump.
Bother. You took some blood, sir, from him?
Phlebotomiz'd him ounces twenty,
Order'd, in lieu, one ounce, good weight,
Magnesia vitriolat.
Subinde gave, when faint or sick, sir,
My renovating fen-elixir ;
Then clapp'd my patent plaster on,
My genuine icthupharmacon.
Bother. Sir, of your practice we've no doubt,—
Bore. So much for Tench-Come hand him out.
Gaze on-and thou'lt perchance forget
The long, the mournful lapse of years, Thy couch with tears of anguish wet,
And e'en the guilt which caused those tears,
And in my pure and artless child,
Thou'lt think her mother meets thy view;
Such as she was when life first smiled,
And guilt by name alone she knew.
Ah! then I see thee o'er her charms
A look of fond affection cast;
I see thee clasp her in thine arms,
And in the present lose the past.
But soon the dear illusion flies;
The sad reality returns;
My crimes again to memory rise,
And, ah! in vain my orphan mourns :
Till suddenly some keen remorse,
Some deep regret her claims shall aid; For wrath that held too long its course; For words of peace too long delayed.
For pardon (most, alas denied,
When pardon might have snatched from shame) And kindness, hadst thou kindness tried, Had checked my guilt, and saved my fame.
And then thou'lt wish, as I do now,
Thy hand my humble bed had smoothed,
Wiped the chill moisture off my brow,
And all the wants of sickness soothed.
For, oh! the means to sooth my pain
My poverty has still denied ;
And thou wilt wish, ah! wish in vain,
Thy riches had those means supplied.
Thou'lt wish, with keen repentance wrung,
I'd closed my eyes upon thy breast,
Expiring, while thy faultering tongue
Pardon in kindest tones expressed.
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