n." "I
know not," said I, "what could be your meaning, unless it was, that the
yellow plague {50} which destroyed Maelgwn of Gwynedd, put an end to you
on the sea-shore, and that your body was divided amongst the crows and
the fishes." "Peace, fool!" said he, "I was alluding to my two callings,
of man of the law and poet. Please to tell me, has a lawyer more
similitude to a raven, than a poet to a whale? How many a one doth a
single lawyer divest of his flesh, to swell out his own craw; and with
what indifference does he extract the blood, and leave a man half alive!
And as for the poet, where is the fish which is able to swallow like him?
he is drinking oceans of liquor at all times, but the briny sea itself
would not slack his thirst. And provided a man be a poet and a lawyer,
how is it possible to know whether he be fish or flesh, especially if he
be a courtier to boot, as I was, and obliged to vary his taste to every
ones palate. But tell me," said he, "whether there are at present, any
of those fellows upon the earth?" "There's plenty of them," said I; "if
one can patch together any nonsensical derry, he is styled a graduate
bard. But as for the others; there is such a plague of lawyers, petty
attornies, and scribes, that the locusts of Egypt bore light upon the
country, in comparison with them. In your time, sir, there were but
bargains of tofts and crofts, and a hand's breadth of writing for a farm
of a hundred pounds, and a raising of cairns and crosses, as memorials of
the purchase and boundaries. There is no longer any such security, but
there is far more craft and deceit, and a tombstone's breadth of written
parchment to secure the bargain; and for all that, it is a wonder if a
flaw be not in it, or said to be at least." "Well then," said Taliesin,
"I should not be worth a straw in the world at present. I am better
where I am. Truth will never be had where there are many poets, nor fair
dealing where there are many lawyers; no, nor health where there are many
physicians." At this moment, a little grey-headed hobgoblin, who had
heard that a living man was arrived, flung himself at my feet, weeping
abundantly. "Dear me," said I, "what are you?" "One who is grievously
wronged every day in the world," said he. "May God move your soul to
procure justice for me." "What is your name?" said I. "I am called
_Somebody_," he replied, "and there is scarcely a piece of pimping, or a
calumny, or a lie, or