And its true produce, Strength and Liberty. 
   Yet if we could th’ attendant ills suppress,
If we could make the sum of mischief less;
If we could warm and angry men persuade
No more man’s common comforts to invade;
And that old ease and harmony re-seat,
In all our meetings, so in joy to meet;
Much would of glory to the Muse ensue,
And our good Vicar would have less to do.

LETTER VI.

Quid leges sine moribus
Vanae proficiunt? 
                 Horace.

Vae! misero mihi, mea nunc facinora
Aperiuntur, clam quae speravi fore. 
                          MANILIUS.

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Trades and Professions of every kind to be found in the Borough—­Its Seamen and Soldiers—­Law, the Danger of the Subject—­Coddrington’s Offence—­Attorneys increased; their splendid Appearance, how supported—­Some worthy Exceptions—­Spirit of Litigation, how stirred up—­A Boy articled as a Clerk; his Ideas—­How this Profession perverts the Judgement—­Actions appear through this medium in a false Light—­Success from honest Application—­Archer, a worthy Character—­Swallow, a character of a different kind—­His Origin, Progress, Success &c.

Professions—­law.

“Trades and Professions”—­these are themes the Muse,
Left to her freedom, would forbear to choose;
But to our Borough they in truth belong,
And we, perforce, must take them in our song. 
   Be it then known that we can boast of these
In all denominations, ranks, degrees;
All who our numerous wants through life supply,
Who soothe us sick, attend us when we die,
Or for the dead their various talents try. 
Then have we those who live by secret arts,
By hunting fortunes, and by stealing hearts;
Or who by nobler means themselves advance,
Or who subsist by charity and chance. 
   Say, of our native heroes shall I boast,
Born in our streets, to thunder on our coast,
Our Borough-seamen?  Could the timid Muse
More patriot ardour in their breasts infuse;
Or could she paint their merit or their skill,
She wants not love, alacrity, or will: 
But needless all; that ardour is their own,
And for their deeds, themselves have made them known. 
   Soldiers in arms!  Defenders of our soil! 
Who from destruction save us; who from spoil
Protect the sons of peace, who traffic, or who toil;
Would I could duly praise you; that each deed
Your foes might honour, and your friends might read: 
This too is needless; you’ve imprinted well
Your powers, and told what I should feebly tell: 
Beside, a Muse like mine, to satire prone,
Would fail in themes where there is praise alone.
- Law shall I sing, or what to Law belongs? 
Alas! there may be danger in such songs;
A foolish rhyme, ’tis said, a trifling thing,
The law found treason, for it touch’d the King.