| Then I hied me into East-chepe, One cries ribs of beef, and many a pie; Pewter pots they clattered on a heap; There was harp, pipe, and minstrelsy; “Yea by Cock! Nay by Cock!” some began cry; Some sung of Jenkin and Julian for their meed; But, for lack of money, I might not speed. |
Eastcheap, this ancient thoroughfare, originally extended from Tower-street westward to the south end of Clement’s-lane, where Cannon-street begins. It was the Eastern Cheap or Market, as distinguished from Westcheap, now Cheapside. The site of the Boar’s Head Tavern, first mentioned temp. Richard II., the scene of the revels of Falstaff and Henry V., when Prince of Wales, is very nearly that of the statue of King William IV. Lackpenny had presented to him several of the real Signs of the Times and of Life in London with “ribs of beef—many a pie—pewter pots—music and singing”—strange oaths, “Yea by Cock” being a vulgar corruption for a profane oath. Our own taverns still supply us with ballad-singers—“Buskers”—who will sing of “Jenkin and Julian”—Ben Block; or, She Wore a Wreath of Roses, “for their meed.”
| Then into Cornhill anon I yode, [went] Where was much stolen gear among; I saw where hung mine own hood That I had lost among the throng; To buy my own hood I thought it wrong; I knew it well, as I did my creed; But, for lack of money, I could not speed. |
The manners and customs of the dwellers in Cornhill in the time of John Lydgate, when a stranger could have his hood stolen at one end of the town and see it exposed for sale at the other, forcibly reminds us of Field-lane and the Jew Fagin, so faithfully sketched in pen and ink by Charles Dickens of our day. Where “a young man from the country” would run the risk of meeting with an Artful Dodger, to pick his pocket of his silk handkerchief at the entrance of the Lane, and it would be offered him for sale by a Jew fence at the end, not only “Once a Week” but “All the Year Round.” However, when Charles Dickens and Oliver Twist came in, Field-lane and Fagin went out.
At length the Kentish man being wearied, falls a prey to the invitation of a taverner, who with a cringing bow, and taking him by the sleeve:—“Sir,” saith he, “will you our wine assay?” Whereupon Lackpenny, coming to the safe conclusion that “a penny can do no more than it may,” enters the tempting and hospitable house of entertainment, and there spends his only penny, for which he is supplied with a pint of wine:—
| The taverner took me by the sleeve, “Sir,” saith he, “will you our wine assay?” I answered “That cannot be much grieve, A penny can do no more than it may;” I drank a pint, and for it did pay; Yet, sore a-hungered from hence I yode, [went] And, wanting money, I could not speed. |
Worthy old John Stow supposes this interesting incident to have happened at the Pope’s Head, in Cornhill, and bids us enjoy the knowledge of the fact, that:—“Wine one pint for a pennie, and bread to drink it was given free in every taverne.” Yet Lydgate’s hero went away “Sore a-hungered,” for there was no eating at taverns at this time beyond a crust to relish the wine, and he who wished to dine before he drank had to go to the cook’s.
Wanting money, Lackpenny has now no choice but to return to the country, and applies to the watermen at Billingsgate:—
| Then hied I me to Billingsgate, And one cried “Hoo! go we hence!” I prayed a bargeman, for God’s sake, That he would spare me my expense, “Thou scap’st not here, quod he, under two-pence, I list not yet bestow any almes deed.” Thus, lacking money, I could not speed. |