Lawyerus Bootatus & Spurratus: OR, THE Long Vacation. A POEM. By a Student of Lincolns-Inn.  
LONDON: Printed for E. Richardson, 1691.   

To my Honest Friend Mr. Fled-wit, Clerk to Mr. Dull-man.  
Dear Jack,  
WHEN I had finished this little Piece, I was thinking what Duke, Marquess, Earl, Lord, Knight, Squire or Gentleman to Dedicate it to; but hearing thou wert come to Town from thy Father's Paternal Seat of Fled-wit-Hall, I laid aside my thoughts of such designs, and to thy own judicious self Present this Poem.  
Ah Jack! those glorious Times are over, when thou and I were Chums together at Brazenose College in Oxford, when we valued Tutors, Proctors, or Vice-chancellors no more than a Vintner does a Proclamation against French Wines. When others were studying or making Declamations in the Schools, we were Refreshing our Understanding with the Juice of the Grape at the Crown; and I'll say that for thee, thou didst use to be so Witty after the second Bottle, and hadst such Magnificent Puns, such Exalted Clinches, such Caterquibbles and Cunundrums, as would have served to have set up half a Dozen Fourth-Rate Poets.  
Since our Parents, our Destinies, our Fate, or what you please to call it, designed us for the study of the Law, after which, though we have Rode Whip and Spur, we are never like to overtake, and therefore are resolved never to break our Brains with Cook upon Littleton, Plowden, Keeble, or Fitzherbert: No, let the Fraternity prate their Unintelligible Jargon at the Bar till their Lungs ache, we have found out a more pleasant way of Living.— But let the worst come to the worst, 'tis at last but going to the Devil— Tavern I mean; And so dear Rogue, I wish thee a pleasant Term, with two Thousand Millions of Rich easy bleeding Clients, hoping, expecting, desiring, wishing, nay certainly believing you would have the same good Luck attend,  
Dear Jack, Your Friend and Servant, Whilst P. Q.   

THE Long Vacation.  

Welcome thou long expected Season,  
Welcome as is to Madmen Reason,  
To Prisoners Freedom, Thiefs a Pardon,  
Or Rescue when the Bums press hard-on  
Poor Debtor fly'ng through Lanes and Alleys,  
To scape a Jail far worse than Gallows;  
Welcome as Alms to needy Poor,  
Or Wealth by Smirna-Fleet brought o'er;  
Welcome as sound of rise Sir Knight,  
Or French Success to Jacobite.   

But why should such Civility,  
Be, dear Sir Longshanks, paid to thee?  
Unless I would to World present,  
My little Skill in Compliment;  
Just like two Kings in Play we read in,  
Who both spoke French to show their Breeding;  
For there is no great alteration  
Between the Term and Long Vacation;  
The difference is scarce a Tester  
'Twixt Terms of Hilary or Easter,  
Or Michaelmas or Trinity,  
Compared with Gains we find in thee:  
True, at those times we keep a stir  
In famous Hall of Westminster,  
In torn Bar-Gowns we loudly bawl,  
And Echo murmurs through the Hall,  
In Trials mix our Sense with Jokes  
On John a Styles and John a Nokes;  
Not Ploughman sweats so much as we  
To get a Clients Guinea Fee;  
But as in Holy Writ we find,  
That God the first Eternal mind,  
When by his word, the whole Creation,  
Had in six Days received Formation,  
Is said to Rest; so 'tis but best fit  
Mankind should have some kind of respite.   

Assist me then some friendly Muse,  
And do not all kind Aids refuse,  
Whilst I describe the way and fashion  
Of Living in the Long Vacation.   

Now Judges with a mighty Train  
Of Tipstaffs, Clerks and other Men,  
Go by Their Majesty's Command  
To scatter Justice round the Land,  
Bold Malefactors Crimes to Punish,  
And Country Folks with Law astonish,  
Who gaping stand at each Assizes  
To hear'em Try their Nisi Prizes;  
Tho of their Sense they've no discerning,  
Yet they admire their mighty Learning,  
And wonder how in words such force is,  
To fetch the Money from their Purses;  
Mean while Attorneys and their Clerks,  
By Tricks of Law and other Quirks,  
Bleed the fat Purse of Country Yeoman,  
And run at all like Sheep in Common,  
Pick up the Pence from every Giver,  
As at Church Door does Poors Receiver,  
And will no kind of Fees Disown,  
From Guinea to the Clipped Half-Crown;  
But if the Client has no Ryno,  
Full well the World, and you and I know,  
The cause is in as bad Condition,  
As is a Soul in sad Contrition  
In middle World, and's left no Pence,  
To Priest to Pray him out from thence.   

But come, let s leave this wrangling crew,  
And step to Fair of Bartholomew,  
Where 'tis not thought the greatest curse,  
To eat lean Pigs were starved at Nurse;  
Thither whole droves of Punks repair,  
To Sell their Frenchifi d cracked Ware,  
To easy Youths whose greatest curse is,  
T'ave empty Skulls and laden Purses:  
Here Merry-Andrew with his Babble,  
Diverts the crowds of gaping Rabble,  
While Divers with their Fingers steady,  
From Pocket Pick out all the Ready;  
But here is such a cursed Noise,  
With Trumpets, Drums, and Hoarse Hant-Boys,  
With Buy my Damsins, Nuts and Pears,  
I thought with reverence to my Ears,  
To leave that cursed Hellish Crew,  
Another different Scene to View   

See how in droves on Pads and Tits,  
The Road is fill d with Scampring Cits,  
For Tunbriag, Epsom, and such places,  
To Drink, and Bowl, and Lose at Races;  
But still the greatest part repair  
To the famed Mart called Sturbridg-Fair,  
Their tarnisht Wares before them gone down,  
Which were not Vendible in London;  
While Country Chapmen from each Quarter,  
Pay down the Coal, or Trade by Barter:  
Poor Catholic to pay his Vow,  
Through parching Heat and Frost & Snow,  
Cannot with more Devotion go  
To famed Loretto's Shrine; or that  
Of blessed Lady Mountferrat,  
Than Tradesmen down to Marts and Fairs,  
Or any place where Gain Repairs;  
Money and Blood in this agree,  
When they're in Circulation free,  
A Healthful Corpse and Purse ensues,  
But both are sick when both we lose.   

Others on Nags in Smithfield bought,  
(Who at's return 's not worth a groat)  
Or else on Fifteen Pence a side,  
In mighty haste from London Ride;  
They Ride not forth for Air and Sun,  
Their business is the Gentle Dun,  
To this great Lord or Knight or 'Squire;  
But they may Dapple sound Tyre,  
And Ride full many tedious Miles  
Before the tempting Guinea Smiles;  
But here's a Christian Comfort still,  
If not their Purse, their Wems they fill:  
Did they at first their Errand tell,  
They might be Kicked or Cudgelled well;  
No, they are Treated all like Lords,  
With choicest Foods the Shire affords;  
Nor can each Meal of Plenty fail,  
Of choicest Wines or strongest Ale;  
(Tho after all this mighty Cheer,  
Is not th'effect of Love but Fear)  
And can the Dun be so ill-bred,  
When with such mighty Welcome sped,  
To whisper in the Ears of any,  
My business is, I come for Money?  
No, there is certainly a Spell  
In Eating and in Drinking well,  
When from our Purse it draws no Pence;  
And though with grumbling Minds from thence,  
They Prosecute their Journey home,  
This Pleasure to their thoughts does come,  
No Thiefs can them from Money Sever,  
Tho they may Stand, they can't Deliver,  
So jogging on pursue their Journey,  
Like Client Fleeced by Sharp Attorney.   

'Thas been a word this Fourscore Years,  
Talk of the devil and he appears,  
Which Sentence if it e'er was true,  
It must most certainly be now:  
Lo, on the Road before our Faces,  
On Pads with most uneven Paces,  
Twenty Attorneys of that swarm,  
Who flock from Norfolk to the Term,  
With Hearts all Light, and Purses Swelling,  
Jog home to their respective Dwelling;  
Not Caesar (when his Foes o'ercome)  
Could with more Triumph enter Rome,  
Than they, along the Road in State,  
Looked big and did of Causes Prate,  
Contriving as they sat on Crupper  
What they should have that Night for Supper,  
What Fowl was scarce, what Fish was Dearest,  
And where was Sold the Wine was Clearest;  
Resolving since the Term was over,  
To Feast themselves and live or ●lover,  
And nobly gratify their Bellies,  
As did the Emperor Vitellius.   

From them about some three Miles distance  
Helped by their Horses lame Assistance,  
A crew of Tattered Clients troth on,  
Not one of which had good Coat got on,  
But did exactly represent,  
The talked of Ragged Regiment,  
And by their looks 'twas plainly seen,  
Their Pockets had small Coin within;  
Strange 'tis that every one we look at  
Should know the want of Cole in Pocket,  
For the Face carries strange Reports,  
When Bag and Purse is out of Sorts:  
These did not talk with what fine Cates,  
They should Regale themselves and Mates,  
Nor did they talk of Partridge, Plover,  
Or of strange Dish from France brought over,  
They with their Stomaches were no Jesters,  
Nor talked of Fish with Shrimps and Oysters;  
But Minds most Pensive entertain  
With thoughts where they that night should gain  
Domestic Bread and Cheese and Butter,  
To satisfy loud Colons clutter,  
Cursing all Lawyers where they met any,  
Repeating o'er the Devil's Litany  
For all the Pen and Parchment Fighters,  
From Judges down to Hackney Writers.   

By what strange Magic am I held,  
I cannot quit this Country Field?  
New objects still my Muse invite,  
And still of Groves and Shades I write.  
Here by a purling Brook there sits  
A Nymph by Love deprived of Wits;  
For having once at London been,  
And in the Walks of Grays-Inn seen  
A Dressing Beau, by Tailors made,  
Her silly Heart by Love betrayed;  
And since her Passion for the Spark,  
She modestly Conceals i'th' Dark,  
Turns Mope, and twirling of her Garters,  
Is named amongst God Cupid's Martyrs.   

Not far from thence in Country Village,  
Renowned for Husbandry and Tillage;  
Encircled round with Clowns was sat  
A Spark just come to his Estate,  
Whilst liberally they Drink and Eat all,  
Upon the Charge of Young Sir Treat-all;  
Extolling to the very Skies  
His bounteous Liberalities:  
One who'd more breeding than the rest Sir,  
In a large Bowl, to's Noble Master,  
Begins a Health, which each one follows  
With hoarse loud shouts and rustic hollows,  
Whilst he with Pride puffed up, does swell  
As big as Midnight Constable  
Amongst his Watchmen clad in Flannel;  
So he by every Country Spaniel  
Is fawned upon, while each pretends  
To Honour him for their own ends.   

What show on yonder Hill appears?  
They seem a Troop of Mountaineer,  
And by the swiftness of their Pace  
To be of the true Irish Race,  
They yelp, they bawl, they hoop, they hollow,  
And each one cries out follow, follow;  
But when they something nearer came,  
I found them Sportsmen of the Game,  
Who Hunting loved above their Vi'tels,  
And cry of Hounds 'fore Lutes and Fiddles.  
'Twas now about the dawn o'th' Even,  
And they had been at th' sport since seeven  
Th' Morning, all that time employing,  
Themselves, with Hunger much annoying,  
Receiving falls and blows and knocks Sir,  
In chase of a damned stinking Fox Sir,  
Which they with much more triumph Killed  
Than e'er did Tamberlane i'th' Field,  
When his Victorious Foot he set,  
Upon the Neck of Bajazet.  
I must confess I looked with wonder,  
But never shall with pleasure under-  
Stand where in truth the mighty sense is,  
In Riding over Hedges, Fences,  
Styles, Ditches, Five-bar-gates and Bogs,  
After a crew of Yelping Dogs,  
Indang'ring still my Life, which bears  
More value than ten Thousand Hares;  
A Leg or Arm is often Cured,  
But no Man's Neck was e'er Insured;  
Yet each Man best his Pleasure knows,  
As th' Woman said, who picked her Toes.   

But now 'tis time we should be gone,  
And leave the Country for the Town;  
My Muse and I with easy pace,  
towered London now have set our Face:  
But had you seen, as we took notice,  
Of such a numerous train of Coaches,  
Both Hackney, Stage, and those of Gentry,  
Who had upon the Road made entry,  
Calashes made by Workmen's Art,  
A much more modish sort of Cart;  
And every one of these 'forenam'd,  
With Folks as thick as Bee-hives crammed;  
Or had you likewise seen beside,  
The numerous company that Ride  
On Long-tails, Bob-tails, Trotters, Pacers,  
Pads, Higlers, Hawkers, Hunters, Racers,  
Who did with Whip and Spur repair,  
To taste the Country's purer Air,  
You would have almost took your Oath,  
That Pestilence, or Fire, or both,  
Could be the only sole occasion  
Of leaving City Habitation;  
But all our fears were fled to tell ye,  
When we arrived at Peccadilly,  
We found the Streets with People swarm,  
As if it were in height of Term,  
And though so many thousands gone,  
There scarce was miss of them in Town;  
However 'twas my first desire  
To visit Hall of Westminster,  
Where oft till two a Clock I've stayed,  
Starving my Guts to feed my Head  
With scraps of Law and bits of Latin,  
(Oh! what a Bliss is Learned Prating)  
Into that School-house of the Law,  
I entered with a kind of Awe,  
Which when more strictly I surveyed,  
It looked like Garrison decayed;  
For tattered Flags from Ireland brought  
Did very much improve the Thought;  
No Judges learned in the Law,  
Nor Sergeants who choice Plead Draw,  
Nor Council who can split a Hair,  
Were seen on Bench or at the Bar;  
Not one Attorney with his Bags,  
Stuffed full of Law, or Rogues in Rags,  
We justly Pettifoggers call,  
Were to be seen about the Hall;  
No Affidavit-Men, nor those  
In Temple-Walk with Straws in Shoes;  
The Lawyers and their Hangers on,  
Like Rats from falling House were gone;  
But where the Sages of the Law  
Did use to sit, were Boys at Taw,  
And Folks with Plums and Gingerbread  
Stood where the Learned Counsel Plead,  
And Country Folks to show their Manners,  
Stood bare to view the Irish Banners;  
Pert Sempstress with her what d'ye buy Sir?  
Did nodding on her Elbow lie Sir,  
And Bookseller long time may snort,  
Before he's asked for Cook's Reports;  
The place appeared so Melancholy,  
To stay there longer was a folly,  
Therefore did most convenient judge it,  
To Lincolns-Inn on Foot to trudg it;  
But when I came to Charing-Cross,  
Sitting on Steps by Horse of Brass,  
Saw Splitcause the Solicitor,  
Expecting, like some humble Cur,  
What scraps or bones would fall for Dinner;  
Taking compassion on the Sinner,  
To Cellar gave him Invitation,  
Where instantly he took occasion  
To cram his Guts with Beef and Pudding,  
Which for two days had had no Food in;  
His Belly filled and Bones at rest,  
He told me that with Interest  
He would repay the Obligation  
I showed him in the Long Vacation,  
And had he had but Cole in Pockets,  
He'd take me instantly to Lockets,  
And fill my Skin with old Burgundy,  
But he would not forget me one day:  
Seeming to like his grateful Humour,  
We parted, when just against the Rummer,  
I met a very honest Croney,  
Who values, just like Dirt, his Money;  
But by his sad dejected looks,  
I found his Purse was off the Hooks,  
To meet (as every Mortal well-knows)  
A Man with Stockings out at Elbows,  
His Linen foul, and clothes all torn in,  
With Hands and Face in Natural Mourning,  
Informs a Man, beyond all doubt,  
The World and he are fallen out:  
He seemed amazed when first I met him;  
But since I was resolved to Treat him,  
Consented, and to drown all Sorrow,  
All anxious thoughts about to morrow,  
Drank Bumpers Supernaculum,  
To better Luck for time to come;  
Strange power of Wine, whose sprightly Juice,  
Can a new kind of Soul infuse:  
My Friend had now forgot his Cares,  
And for a cheerful Song prepares;  
Nay, thought himself as great to th'full,  
As is the Indian Great Mogul:  
But I not willing the Delusion  
Should bring his Senses to Confusion,  
Soon sent him Home in Hackney-Coach,  
To keep him from a worse Debauch.   

Walking along the Strand, a Strange  
Young Spark salutes me by th' Exchange:  
I knew him not, yet he'd pretend  
To be my Servant and my Friend,  
And that as well we knew each other,  
As if the one was tother's Brother:  
Amazed I stood in strange suspense;  
But he with Air of Impudence,  
" Cried, surely Sir you can't forget  
" Our last Intrigue in Surry-street,  
" When amongst Ladies half a Dozen,  
" You only did select my Cousin;  
" She's a brisk Tit, and Sir you know it,  
" (Then begs my Ear) could you allow it,  
" To lend me Sir, but half a Crown,  
" I should be yours more than my own;  
I strait surveyed my Spark all o'er,  
Having ne'er seen his Face before,  
Instead of lending him a George,  
Kicked him and made him walk at large.   

From thence I met with no Adventure,  
Until I did the Temple Enter;  
Which come to, with amazement saw  
A brisk pretender to the Law,  
Who was in Termtime all men know  
A mighty Dressing Sparkish Beau,  
And would with Toothpick fixed in Mouth,  
Stand three full hours by th' Clock in troth  
At Temple-Gate, with Roguish Leering,  
Ogling all women who came near him;  
But now by some strange turn of Fate  
Reduced to very mean Estate;  
His Beaver was reduced to Caster,  
And Nekcloath hardly worth a Tester,  
Tucked in within a tattered Waistcoat,  
O'er which, a Coat was once a Lac'd-Coat;  
A Wigg so full of Knots and Stains,  
As if't had seen a score Campaigns,  
And all the other clothes he wore,  
Like those we mentioned just before:  
Surprised I was, I must confess,  
At such an odd and uncouth Dress;  
Whether 'twas Gaming, Whoring, Drinking  
Reduced him, thought not worth my thinking;  
So passing on to King's - Bench Walk,  
Surveyed a numerous crew were Talk-Ing, hither, thither, to and fro,  
As if they'd little else to do:  
Poor perifogging Pimps o'th' Law,  
travelers who ne'er Salt-water saw,  
Alsatian Biters and their Cullies,  
Pretended Wits and Sharping Bullies,  
Projectors and their Undertakers,  
News Writing 'Squires and Ballad Makers,  
Were Walking here this Long-Vacation,  
To give their thoughts some Recreation.   
Here the Author broke off Abruptly, being engaged for several Weeks to Visit his Friends in the Country.  

THank Heaven, I am at last returned,  
Tho no one for my Absence Mourned;  
Pleasure should give to Business place  
(Men do not use to feed on Sauce)  
Not down of Light to People, where  
'Tis Midnight Darkness half the Year,  
More welcome is, than dawn of Term  
To Lawyers, who to London swarm.   

The Nobles now and Gentry too,  
To Country Pleasures bid adieu,  
And with the City's Conversation,  
Supply the want of Recreation  
They met withal in Gardens, Fields,  
And all those Sports the Country yields:  
From Tunbridg, Epsom, Arstrop-Wells,  
The Bath and sundry places else,  
In mighty droves to London come,  
Where 'tis admired they all find room;  
In this, it like the Ocean seems,  
Near fuller for ten thousand Streams.   

Nay, I myself must take my leave  
Of Cow, Waller, Oldham, Cleave-  
Land, and beloved Hudibrass,  
To study Actions on the Case,  
And leave my Thought ere made an end on't,  
To think of Plaintiff and Defendant;  
And so farewell all Recreation  
In this Dull, Tedious, Long Vacation.   
FINIS.