Not like their ancient way of war,
To wait on his triumphal car;
But when he went to dine or fup,
More bravely ate his captives up,
And left all war, by his example,
Reduc'd to vict❜ling of a camp well.
Quoth Ralph, by all that you have said,
And twice as much that I cou'd add,
'Tis plain you cannot now do worse
Than take this out-of-fashion'd course;
To hope, by stratagem, to woo her,
Or waging battle to fubdue her;
Tho' fome have done it in romances,
And bang'd them into am'rous fancies;
As those who won the Amazons,
By wanton drubbing of their bones;
And stout Rinaldo gain'd his bride
By courting of her back and side.
But fince those times and feats are over,
They are not for a modern lover,
When mistresses are too cross-grain'd,
By fuch addresses to be gain'd;
And if they were, would have it out
With many another kind of bout.
Therefore I hold no courfe s' infeasible,
As this of force, to win the Jezebel,
To storm her heart by th' antic charms
Of ladies errant, force of arms;
But rather strive by law to win her,
And try the title you have in her.
Your cafe is clear, you have her word,
And me to witness the accord;
Befides two more of her retinue
To testify what pass'd between you;
More probable, and like to hold,
Than hand, or seal, or breaking gold,
For which fo many that renounc'd
Their plighted contracts have been trounc'd,
And bills upon record been found,
That forc'd the ladies to compound;
And that, unless I miss the matter,
Is all the bus'nefs you look after.
Befides, encounters at the bar
Are braver now than those in war,
In which the law does execution,
With lefs diforder and confufion;
Has more of honour in 't, some hold,
Not like the new way, but the old,
When those the pen had drawn together, 415
Decided quarrels with the feather,
And winged arrows kill'd as dead,
And more than bullets now of lead:
So all their combats now, as then,
Are manag'd chiefly by the pen;
That does the feat, with braver vigours,
In words at length, as well as figures ;
Is judge of all the world performs
In voluntary feats of arms,
And whatfoe'er 's atchiev'd in fight,
Determines which is wrong or right;
For whether you prevail, or lose,
All must be try'd there in the close;
And therefore 'tis not wife to fhun
What you must trust to ere ye've done.
The law that fettles all you do,
And marries where you did but woo;
That makes the most perfidious lover,
A lady, that's as false, recover;
And if it judge upon your fide,
Will foon extend her for your bride,
And put her person, goods, or lands,
Or which you like beft, int'
like best, int' your hands.
For law's the wisdom of all
And manag'd by the ablest sages,
Who, tho' their bus'nefs at the bar
Be but a kind of civil war,
In which th' engage with fiercer dudgeons
Than e'er the Grecians did, and Trojans ;
They never manage the contest
T'impair the public interest,
Or by their controverfies leffen
The dignity of their profeffion :
Not like us brethren, who divide
Our commonwealth, the cause, and fide; 450
And tho' we're all as near of kindred
As th' outward man is to the inward,
We agree in nothing, but to wrangle
About the slightest fingle-fangle,
While lawyers have more fober sense,
Than t'argue at their own expense,
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