Possibly the most solemn book in the world, not excepting Burton's
"Anatomy of Melancholy," or even "Fearne on Contingent Remainders,"
is an English publication of a half-century or so ago, entitled
"Jokes about Great Lawyers."
Of several hundred alleged jokes, two or three will bear
transplanting.
"My Lord," began a somewhat pompous barrister, "it is written
the book of nature ----" "Be kind enough," interposed Lord
Ellenborough, "to give me the _page_ from which you quote."
To the opening remark of an equally pompous barrister:
"My Lord, the unfortunate client for whom I appear ----" "Proceed
sir, proceed," hastily observed the judge, _"so far the court is
with you!"_
Ellenborough, when at the bar, after protracting his argument to
the hour of adjournment, said that he would conclude when it should
suit His Lordship's _pleasure_ to hear him.
The immediate reply was: "The Court will hear you, sir, to-morrow;
but as to the pleasure, _that_ had long been out of the question."