He
is a lawyer's mule, and the only beast upon which he ambles so often to
Westminster. And a lawyer is his God Almighty, in him only he trusts. To
him he flies in all his troubles; from him he seeks succour. To him he
prays, that he may by his means overcome his enemies. Him does he
worship both in the temple and abroad, and hopes by him and good angels
to prosper in all his actions. A scrivener is his farrier, and helps to
recover all his diseased and maimed obligations. Every term he sets up a
tenters in Westminster Hall, upon which he racks and stretches gentlemen
like English broadcloth, beyond the staple of the wool, till the threads
crack, and that causeth them with the least wet to shrink, and presently
to wear bars. Marry, he handles a citizen (at least if himself be one)
like a piece of Spanish cloth, gives him only a twitch, and strains him
not too hard, knowing how apt he is to break of himself, and then he can
cut nothing out of him but threads. To the one he comes like Tamburlain,
with his black and bloody flag; but to the other his white one hangs
out, and, upon the parley, rather than fail, he takes ten groats in the
pound for his ransom, and so lets him march away with bag and baggage.
From the beginning of Hilary to the end of Michaelmas his purse is full
of quicksilver, and that sets him running from sunrise to sunset up
Fleet Street, and so to the Chancery, from thence to Westminster, then
back to one court, after that to another. Then to an attorney, then to a
councillor, and in every of these places he melts some of his fat (his
money).
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