Classic Poem

Who canting learn, do only mean to cheat;
Sure law's in gibrish clothed, for deceit.
Amerc'ments made to fright the idle suit,
Have thriv'd so well, that they invite unto't.
Natura brevium sure is lost, for we
Nothing in nature can but long suits see.
An Habeas Corpus waits on every suit;
A suits worth nothing, if no body's to't.
Suits for Westminster , now so numerous are;
Nor Judge nor Lawyer can them all outwear.
For Councel-Coyn; and count'nance men disburse;
They satisfie revenge, and not their purse.
Both writs, and Courts of error are so many,
Take away these, and Law scarce admits any.
What though your Cook up all the Law doth dresse?
He makes a French Hash, of a Harsh French messe;
The Laws a two edg'd sword by which men play,
And with their art, make it wound either way;
To tenter out their phancy, they stretch Law:
Wrack the name Lawyers, you'l find liers aw.
My pen wants ink, state-tetters for to cure,
May th' ink writ Magna Charta , health procure.