Master Serjeant's Clients
To the Noble Widow.
1
You, Madam, are handsome, prudent and witty,
Our Serjeant, alas, too sadly does know it;
But, if you can have a passion of pity,
His Clients, in troth, must perswade you to show it.
2
He once had a Tongue so sharp and so pliant,
That those who provokt it, quickly were undone;
More Brains then would serve the head of a Giant
Or all the Haranguers of Paris and London.
3
These once were the Gifts his Clients have joy'd in;
Now wildly he looks, then straite he turnes stupid:
His case and our case is alter'd, quoth Ploydin;
He pleads not for Clients, but talks of one Cupid.
4
A Lad of renowne, and still a great Leader
Through Lobbys of Court, where he whispers to all;
But the Devil ne'r thought to find him a pleader,
And whisp'ring our Serjeant in Westminster-Hall.
5
He turnes our Law-Cases to Cases of Love;
Demurrers, like Widowes delayes, he does dread;
Injunctions are things for a Rivall to move;
But when he joynes issue it brings him to bed.
6
All the Legends of love we soon may believe
Who watch the amours of this our learned Grandi;
He now reads the Poets, and studies to grieve,
By quoting the sighs in de arte amandi.
7
Good Madam, unless some mistery lie in't,
And Widowes see farther then a Casuist sees,
Dismiss our great Pleader, now grown your Client;
But send him not home till he payes you his Fees.
