The Lawyers Demurrer Argued.
By the Loyall ADDRESSERS (the Gentlemen) of Grays-Inne,
Against an ORDER made by the Bench of the Said Society.
To the Tune of Packingtons Pound, Or, The Round-Head Reviv'd.
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I.
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DEar Friends, and Good People, with Gowns and with none,
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I'le tell you a Tale of a parcell of Whiggs,
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The Spawn of some Rebells in year Forty One,
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Who like their damn'd Sires pursues their Intrigues:
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It occasion's amazing,
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That some Members of Grays-Inne,
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Turn Tail to their King, from whom they'd their Raising:
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You Mortals of Law be confounded forever,
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Who refuse an Address made to your Law-giver.
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II.
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By a musty old Custome, call'd Order of Pension,
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Giving Thanks to the King was judg'd an Affray;
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And straight they Decree'd. 'twas Just to Disbench One, (S)
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For shewing Himself more Loyal then they:
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So thus the Dom. Com.
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Speak loudly for some,
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But propose the Kings Int'rest, the word shall be Mum.
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You Mortalls of Law be confounded forever;
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Who refuse an Address made to your Law-giver.
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III.
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Men of the Sword they say make a Division, (S)
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And militant Lawyers their Wisdoms disown,
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So that from the King to have had a Commission,
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Does not consist with a tatter'd old Gown:
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These men make pretense,
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Both to Law and to Sense,
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Yet say, the Law's broke, if you Fight for your Prince.
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You Mortalls of Law be confounded forever,
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Who refuse an Address made to your Law-giver.
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IV.
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From th' Antients (they urge) this Order comes out,
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And therefore expect a ready Obedience,
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But how can that be, since their Masterships doat,
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And they themselves have forgotten Allegeance:
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Therefore let's pray,
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Both by night and by Day,
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That they may Conform, and then we'll Obey.
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You Mortalls of Law be confounded forever,
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Who refuse an Address unto your Law-giver.
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V.
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But wou'd it not move a Heart made of Flint,
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To think that a House must continue no longer,
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Since the grave Gubernators refus'd to consent,
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Except 'twere propos'd by a Bar-Iron-monger; (C)
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Or else by a Brewer, (O)
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Who serves them with Beer,
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So small, that they're fill'd with Suspition and Fear.
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You Mortals of Law be confounded forever,
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Who refuse an Address made to your Law-giver.
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VI.
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Now some of the younger disconsolate fry, (G)
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As if they'd been still at------Quaeso Magister,
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Under such strange Apprehensions did lye,
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They desir'd to consult the Chappell-Minister.
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One of the young Men,
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Wou'd not handle a Pen,
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For my Lord, and my Father won't take me agen. (B)
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You Mortalls of Law be confounded forever,
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Who refuse an Address made to your Law-giver.
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VII.
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The Number of those who refus'd to Subscribe,
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Are fitly compar'd to the days of poor Job,
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Few and Evil------and of a Satanicall Tribe,
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Who Scandalize all the rest of the Robe;
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Those of the Bar-messe,
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Who cry'd------No Address,
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Found their Party of Faction were two to one Lesse;
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You Mortalls of Law be confounded forever,
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Who refuse an Address made to your Law-giver.
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VIII.
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Now you have heard of these Lawyers Demurrer,
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And how their weak Arguments are over-rul'd,
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Without all Dispute will think an Abhorrer,
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Of them and Petitions are loyally Bold.
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For such Impudence,
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Both at Bar and at Bench,
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Proceeds from those Men, who their King would Retrench:
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You Mortalls of Law be confounded forever,
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Who refuse an Address made to your Law-giver.
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