Is but to squander more in vain;
And yet I have no other way
But is as difficult to play. 
For to reduce her by main force,
Is now in vain; by fair means, worse; 540
But worst of all, to give her over,
’Till she’s as desp’rate to recover
For bad games are thrown up too soon,
Until th’ are never to be won. 
But since I have no other course, 545
But is as bad t’ attempt, or worse,
He that complies against his will,
Is of his own opinion still;
Which he may adhere to, yet disown,
For reasons to himself best known:  550
But ‘tis not to b’ avoided now,
For Sidrophel resolves to sue;
Whom I must answer, or begin
Inevitably first with him. 
For I’ve receiv’d advertisement, 555
By times enough, of his intent;
And knowing he that first complains
Th’ advantage of the business gains;
For Courts of Justice understand
The plaintiff to be eldest hand; 560
Who what he pleases may aver;
The other, nothing, till he swear;
Is freely admitted to all grace,
And lawful favour, by his place;
And, for his bringing custom in, 565
Has all advantages to win. 
I, who resolve to oversee
No lucky opportunity,
Will go to council, to advise
Which way t’ encounter, or surprize, 570
And, after long consideration,
Have found out one to fit th’ occasion;
Most apt for what I have to do,
As counsellor and justice too. 
And truly so, no doubt, he was, 575
A lawyer fit for such a case.

An old dull sot, who told the clock
For many years at Bridewell-dock,
At Westminster, and Hicks’s-Hall,
And Hiccius Doctius play’d in all; 580
Where, in all governments and times,
H’ had been both friend and foe to crimes,
And us’d two equal ways of gaining
By hind’ring justice or maintaining;
To many a whore gave priviledge, 585
And whipp’d for want of quarteridge: 
Cart-loads of bawds to prison sent
For b’ing behind a fortnight’s rent
And many a trusty pimp and croney
To Puddle-dock for want of money; 590
Engag’d the constable to seize
All those that would not break the peace,
Nor give him back his own foul words,
Though sometimes Commoners or Lords,
And kept ’em prisoners of course, 595
For being sober at ill hours;
That in the morning he might free
Or bind ’em over for his fee;
Made monsters fine, and puppet-plays,
For leave to practise in their ways; 600
Farm’d out all cheats, and went a share
With th’ headborough and scavenger;
And made the dirt i’ th’ streets compound