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As by the Templars holds you go,

The Horse and Lamb display'd,
In emblematic figures show,

The merits of their trade.

That travellers may infer from hence

How just is their profession;
The lamb sets forth their innocence,

The horse their expedition.

Oh! happy Britons ! happy isle,

May wondering nations say,
Where you get justice without guile,

And law without delay.


Deluded men, these holds forego;

Nor trust such cunning elves;
These artful emblems tend to show

Their clients, not themselves.

'Tis all a trick; these are but shams,

By which they mean to cheat you;
For have a care, you are the LAMBS,

And they the wolves that eat you.
Nor let the thought of no "delay,"

To these their courts misguide you;
You are the showy HORSE, and they

Are jockeys that will ride you.


The great affront of giving the lie arose from the phrase “ Thou liest,” in the oath taken by the defendant in judicial combats before engaging, when charged with any crime by the plaintiff; and Francis I. of France, to make current his giving the lie to the Emperor Charles V., first stamped it with infamy by say. ing, in a solemn assembly, that "he was no honest man that would bear the lie."


John Stowe the chronicler in his old age was reduced to poverty, or rather to actual beggary. Shortly before his death, when fourscore years old, he was permitted, by royal letters patent, to become a mendicant. This curious document is printed in Mr. Bolton Corney's Curiosities of Literature Illustrated, and sets forth, that

Whereas our louing Subiect, John Stowe, this fiue & forty yeers hath to his great charge, & with neglect of his ordinary meanes of maintenance (for the generall good as well of posteritie, as of the present age) compiled & published diuerse necessary bookes & Chronicles; and therefore we, in recompense of these his painfull laboures, & for the encouragement to the like, haue in our royall inclination ben pleased to graunt our Letters Patents &c. &c.; thereby authorizing him and his deputies to collect amongst our louing subiects, theyr voluntary contributions and kinde gratuities.


Macaulay has been often assailed for the account which he has given in his History of the former condition and rank of the clergy. He says they frequently married domestics and retainers of great houses—a statement which has grievously excited the wrath of Mr. Babington and other champions. In a little book, once very popular, first published in 1628, with the title, Microcosmographie, or a Piece of the World discovered, and which is known to have been written by John Earle, after the Restoration Bishop of Worcester and then of Salisbury, is the following passage. It occurs in what the author calls a character of “

a young raw preacher.”

You shall know him by his narrow velvet cape and serge facing, and his ruffe, next his hire, the shortest thing about him. His friends, and much painefulnesse, may preferre him to thirtie pounds a yeere, and this meanes, to a chamber-maide: with whom we leave him now in the bonds of wedlocke. Nest Sunday you shall have him againe.

The following is an additional illustration of Macaulay's sketch, from Bishop Hall's Byting Satyres, 1599:

A gentle squire would gladly entertaine
Into his house some Trencher-chapelaine ;
Some willing man, that might instruct his sons,
And that would stand to good conditions.
First, that he lie upon the truckle-bed,
While his young maister lieth o'er his head;
Second, that he do, upon no default,
Never to sit above the salt;
Third, that he never change his trencher twise;
Fourth, that he use all common courtesies,
Sit bare at meales, and one half rise and wait;
Last, that he never his yong maister beat,
But he must aske his mother to define
How manie jerks she would his breech should line;
All these obsery'd, he could contented be,
To give five markes, and winter liverie.

In a satire addressed to a friend about to leave the University, by Oldham, the condition of a chaplain in the times of Charles II. is thus pictured:

Some think themselves exalted to the sky,
If they light in some noble Family:
Diet, an Horse, and thirty pounds a year,
Besides th' advantage of his Lordship's ear,
The credit of the business, and the State,
Are things that in a Youngster's sense sound great.
Little the unexperienc'd Wretch does know,
What slavery he oft must undergo:
Who, though in Silken Scarf and Cassock drest,
Wears but a gayer Livery at best :
When Dinner calls, the Implement must wait
With holy words to consecrate the Meat:
But hold it for a Favour seldom known,
If he be deign’d the Honour to sit down.
Soon as the Tarts appear, Sir Crape, withdraw!
Those Dainties are not for a spiritual Maw :

Observe your distance, and be sure to stand
Hard by the Cistern with your Cap in hand:
There for diversion you may pick your Teeth
Till the kind voider comes for your Relief:
For meer Boardwages such their Freedom sell
Slaves to an Hour, and vassals to a Bell:
And if th' enjoyment of one day be stole,
They are but Pris'ners out upon Parole :
Always the marks of slavery remain,
And they, tho' loose, still drag about their Chain.
And where's the mighty Prospect after all,
A Chaplainship serv'd up, and seven years' Thrall ?
The menial things perhaps for a Reward
Is to some slender Benefice preferr'd,
With this Proviso bound, that he must wed
My Lady's antiquated Waiting-Maid,
In dressing only skilld and Marmalade.

The following are additional evidences of the truth of Macaulay's picture. The first describes the life at Wrest in Bedfordshire, where Carew wrote, the seat of Selden's Countess of Kent:

The Lord and Lady of this place delight
Rather to be in act than seem in sight;
Instead of statues to adorn their wall,
They throng with living men their merry hall,
Where at large tables filled with wholesome meats,
The servant tenant and kind neighbor eats.
Some of that rank, spun of a finer thread,
Are with the women, steward and chaplain fed
With daintier cates; others of better note,
Whom wealth, parts, office, or the herald's coat,
Have severed from the common, freely sit
At the Lord's table.

Carew. To my friend G. N., from Wrest.

The instances from Gay and Pope, or rather Swift, need no comment:

Cheese that the table's closing rites denies,
And bids me with th' unwilling chaplain rise.

Gay, Trivia, 1716.

No sooner said, but from the hall
Rush chaplain, butler, dogs and all,

A rat, a rat, clap to the door."
Pope and Swift, Sixth Satire of Second Book of Horace.


"Polly” is one of those "hypocorisms," or fet-names, in which our language abounds. Most are mere abbreviations, as Will, Nat, Pat, Bell, &c., taken usually from the beginning, sometimes from the end of the name. The ending y or ie is often added, as a more endearing form: as Annie, Willy, Amy, Charlie, &c. Many have letter-changes, most of which imitate the pronunciation of infants. L is lisped for r. A central consonant is doubled. O between mand l is more easily sounded than a. An infant forms p with its lips sooner than m: papa before mamma. The order of change is : Mary, Maly, Mally, Molly, Polly. L for r appears in Sally, Dolly, Hal; P for m in Patty, Peggy ; vowelchange in Harry, Jim, Meg, Kitty, &c.; and in several of these the double consonant. To pursue the subject : reduplication is used; as in Nannie, Nell, Dandie ; and (by substitution in Bob. Ded would be of ill omen: therefore we have, for Edward, Ned or Ted, n and t being coheir to d; for Rick, Dick, perhaps on account of the final d in Richard. Letters are dropped for softness; as Fanny for Franny, Bab for Barb, Wat for Walt. Maud is Norman for Mald, from Mathild, as Bauduin for Baldwin. Argidius becomes Giles, our nursery friend Gill, who accompanied Jack in his disastrous expedition“ up the hill.” Elizabeth gives birth to Elspeth, Eliza (Eloisa ?), Lisa, Lizzie, Bet, Betty, Betsy, Bessie, Bess; Alexander (c=cs) to Allick and Sandie. What are we to say of Jack for John ? It seems to be from

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