"What have ye?" asked Lucifer. "We have what a day or two ago
were called kings," answered one of the fiendish steeds. (I sought
carefully to see whether Lewis of France were among them.) "Throw them
here," bade the King; and at that they were thrown amongst the other
crowned heads that lay beneath Lucifer's feet; and following the monarchs
came their courtiers and their flatterers to receive sentence. Before I
had time to ask any question, I heard the blast of brazen trumpets and
shouts. "Make way, make way," and at once there came in view a herd of
assize-men and devils bearing the train of six justices, and millions of
their race--barristers, {95a} attorneys, clerks, recorders, bailiffs,
catchpolls, and the litigous busybody. I wondered that none of them was
examined; but in truth, they knew the matter had gone too far against
them, so none of the learned counsels opened their lips, but the busybody
threatened that he would bring an action for false imprisonment against
Lucifer. "Thou shalt have good cause of complaint now," said the Evil
One, "and never see a court at all." Then he donned his red cap, and
with unbearable, haughty mien, said: "Go, take the justices to the hall
of Pontius Pilate, to Master Bradshaw, who condemned King Charles; pack
the barristers with the assassins of Sir Edmundbury Godfrey, {95b} and
their other false co-partners who simulate mutual contention, merely in
order to slay whomsoever might interpose.
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