His antient beginning was a blue coat, since a livery, and his hatching
under a lawyer; whence, though but pen-feathered, he hath now nested for
himself, and with his hoarded pence purchased an office. Two desks and a
quire of paper set him up, where he now sits in state for all comers. We
can call him no great author, yet he writes very much and with the
infamy of the court is maintained in his libels[61]. He has some smatch
of a scholar, and yet uses Latin very hardly; and lest it should accuse
him, cuts it off in the midst, and will not let it speak out. He is,
contrary to great men, maintained by his followers, that is, his poor
country clients, that worship him more than their landlord, and be they
never such churls, he looks for their courtesy. He first racks them
soundly himself, and then delivers them to the lawyer for execution. His
looks are very solicitous, importing much haste and dispatch: he is
never without his hands full of business, that is--of paper. His skin
becomes at last as dry as his parchment, and his face as intricate as
the most winding cause. He talks statutes as fiercely as if he had
mooted[62] seven years in the inns of court, when all his skill is stuck
in his girdle, or in his office-window. Strife and wrangling have made
him rich, and he is thankful to his benefactor, and nourishes it. If he
live in a country village, he makes all his neighbours good subjects;
for there shall be nothing done but what there is law for. His business
gives him not leave to think of his conscience, and when the time, or
term, of his life is going out, for doomsday he is secure; for he hopes
he has a trick to reverse judgment.