Force of Example (Prose)

Last May Mr. Goosequill, attorney-at-law, liberally forgave a poor widow the expenses of a trial in which he had been engaged. It is a singular fact that a tom-cat, which had been for years in the gentleman's family, having caught a mouse, let it go for pity's sake the following day.

John Hartley

John Hartley was an English poet who wrote in the Yorkshire dialect. Born on January 1, 1839, in Halifax, West Yorkshire, he was known for his humorous and dialectical poetry, which vividly captured the spirit and culture of Yorkshire. Hartley's works were extremely popular in the 19th century, and he remains a significant figure in regional English literature. He passed away on March 10, 1915.

John Hartley

Shoo's thi Sister.

John Hartley, Simple Poetry

A Breet Prospect.

John Hartley, Simple Poetry

Somebody's.

John Hartley, Simple Poetry

A Quiet Day.

John Hartley, Simple Poetry

English

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A Friendly Apology For A Certain Justice Of Peace By Way Of Defence Of Hartley Hutcheson, Esq. By James Black-Well, Operator For The Feet

    But he by bawling news about,
    And aptly using brush and clout,
    A justice of the peace became,
    To punish rogues who do the same.

I sing the man of courage tried,
O'errun with ignorance and pride,
Who boldly hunted out disgrace
With canker'd mind, and hideous face;
The first who made (let none deny it)
The libel-vending rogues be quiet.
    The fact was glorious, we must own,
For Hartley was before unknown,
Contemn'd I mean; - for who would chuse
So vile a subject for the Muse?
    'Twas once the noblest of his wishes
To fill his paunch with scraps from dishes,
For which he'd parch before the grate,
Or wind the jack's slow-rising weight,
(Such toils as best his talents fit,)
Or polish shoes, or turn the spit;
But, unexpe...

Jonathan Swift

The Answer. By Dr. Swift

Lindsay mistakes the matter quite,
And honest Paulus judges right.
Then, why these quarrels to the sun,
Without whose aid you're all undone?
Did Paulus e'er complain of sweat?
Did Paulus e'er the sun forget;
The influence of whose golden beams
Soon licks up all unsavoury steams?
The sun, you say, his face has kiss'd:
It has; but then it greased his fist.
True lawyers, for the wisest ends,
Have always been Apollo's friends.
Not for his superficial powers
Of ripening fruits, and gilding flowers;
Not for inspiring poets' brains
With penniless and starveling strains;
Not for his boasted healing art;
Not for his skill to shoot the dart;
Nor yet because he sweetly fiddles;
Nor for his prophecies in riddles:
But for a more substantial cause -

Jonathan Swift

The Force Of Argument

Lord B. was a nobleman bold,
Who came of illustrious stocks,
He was thirty or forty years old,
And several feet in his socks.

To Turniptopville-by-the-Sea
This elegant nobleman went,
For that was a borough that he
Was anxious to rep-per-re-sent.

At local assemblies he danced
Until he felt thoroughly ill
He waltzed, and he galloped, and lanced,
And threaded the mazy quadrille.

The maidens of Turniptopville
Were simple ingenuous pure
And they all worked away with a will
The nobleman's heart to secure.

Two maidens all others beyond
Imagined their chances looked well
The one was the lively Ann Pond,
The other sad Mary Morell.

Ann Pond had determined to try
And carry the Earl with a rush.
Her principal fea...

William Schwenck Gilbert

Dog And Fox.

        (To a Lawyer.)


        My friend, the sophisticated tongue
        Of lawyers can turn right to wrong;
        And language, by your skill made pliant,
        Can save an undeserving client.
        Is it the fee directs the sense
        To injure injured innocence?
        Or can you, with a double face
        Like Janus's, mistate a case?
        Is scepticism your profession,
        And justice absent from your session?
        And is, e'en so, the bar supplied,
        Where eloquence takes either side?

        A man can well express his meaning,
        Except in law deeds, where your gleaning
        Must be first purchased - must be fee'd;
        Engrossed, too, the too-prolix deed.
        But do we shelter be...

John Gay

A Case Of Libel.

        "The greater the truth, the worse the libel."


A certain Sprite, who dwells below,
    ('Twere a libel perhaps to mention where,)
Came up incog. some years ago
    To try for a change the London air.

So well he lookt and drest and talkt,
    And hid his tail and horns so handy,
You'd hardly have known him as he walkt
    From C----e, or any other Dandy.

(His horns, it seems, are made to unscrew;
    So he has but to take them out of the socket,
And--just as some fine husbands do--
    Conveniently clap them into his pocket.)

In short, he lookt extremely natty,
    And even contrived--to his own great wonder--
By dint of sundry scents from Gattie,
    To keep the sulphurous hogo under.

And so my gent...

Thomas Moore

A Vindication Of The Libel; Or, A New Ballad, Written By A Shoe-Boy, On An Attorney Who Was Formerly A Shoe-Boy

"Qui color ater erat, nunc est contrarius atro."[1]

With singing of ballads, and crying of news,
With whitening of buckles, and blacking of shoes,
Did Hartley set out, both shoeless and shirtless,
And moneyless too, but not very dirtless;
Two pence he had gotten by begging, that's all;
One bought him a brush, and one a black ball;
For clouts at a loss he could not be much,
The clothes on his back as being but such;
Thus vamp'd and accoutred, with clouts, ball, and brush,
He gallantly ventured his fortune to push:
Vespasian[2] thus, being bespatter'd with dirt,
Was omen'd to be Rome's emperor for't.
But as a wise fiddler is noted, you know,
To have a good couple of strings to one bow;
So Hartley[3] judiciously thought it too little,
To live by the sweat o...

Jonathan Swift