[163]. The term ‘poll’ for the head, was far more familiar to our forefathers than to ourselves, as such terms as ‘poll-tax,’ or ‘going to the poll,’ testify. It was in great favour for nickname purposes, and beside the one in the text gave rise to such sobriquets as ‘ranti-poll,’ i.e., boisterous fellow; ‘doddy-poll,’ or ‘doddy-poul,’ as Latimer spells it, i.e., blockhead; or ‘withy-poll,’ i.e., spoiled one. The latter was a term of endearment, and as such would not be resented. Hence it is found twice as a surname:—‘Poule Withipoule, taillour’ (Rutland Papers, Cam. Soc.); ‘Edmund Withipole’ (State Papers, Domestic).
[164]. An old sermon, written in the fourteenth century, upon Matt. xxiv. 43, speaks of those whom we should now term as the ‘Devil and his angels’ as the ‘Devil and his kachereles.’
[165]. We have the surname of ‘Outlawe,’ or ‘Outlaghe,’ figuring in several rolls, and that of ‘Felon,’ or ‘le Felun,’ in at least one. These would be both unpleasant names to bear, perhaps more so then than now. A ‘felon’ was one who had, by court adjudicature, and for some specific crime, forfeited all his property, lands, or goods. An ‘outlaw’ was one who had been cited to judgment for some misdemeanour, and by refusing to make an appearance had put himself out of the protection of the law. Thus, Robin Hood was an outlaw. ‘Adam Outelaw’ signs ordinances of Guild of St. John Baptist, West Lynn, 1374. (English Gilds, p. 102.) This name, strange to say, lingered on to within the last two hundred years, a ‘Thomas Outlaw’ being found in a college register for 1674. (Vide Hist. C. C. Coll. Cam.) In 1661, too, ‘Ralph Outlaw’ was rector of Necton in Norfolk. (Hist. Norf., vi. 55.)
[166]. ‘On the 30th ult., at Greenheys, Manchester, formerly of Oxton, Cheshire, Sarah, widow of R. Bellringer, of Pendleton, aged 82.’ (Manchester Courier, May 2, 1874.) This is the only instance of this name I have hitherto met with.
[167]. ‘Thomas le Await’ occurs in the Rot. Curiæ Regis. This reminds us that our ‘waiter’ was once prefixed with ‘a’ likewise—‘xii. esquiers awaiters.’ (Ord. Household of Duke of Clarence, 1493.)
[168]. ‘And to meyris or presidentis and to kyngis ye shall be led for me in witnessyng to them.’—Matt x. 18 (Wicklyffe). In a Petition to Parliament, dated 1461, the following varieties of spelling occur within the space of thirty lines:—‘Maier,’ ‘Mayer,’ ‘Mayre,’and ‘Maire.’ (Rot. Parl. Ed. IV.)
[169]. I suspect the difference between the ‘claviger’ and the ‘clavier’ lay in that the former bore the key, and perhaps even the mace, in all the many public processions and pageants of the day.
[170]. The old and general custom of electing a boy-bishop on St. Nicholas’ Day gave their title, doubtless, to most of our ‘bishops.’ The familiarity of the ceremony is fully attested by Brand. To him I refer the reader. The boy thus elevated by his fellows could not but retain the sobriquet. Lyson quotes from the Lambeth Ch.wardens’ Accounts, 1523: ‘For the Bishop’s dynner and hys company on St. Nycolas’ Day, iis. viiid.’
[171]. Daniel Archdeacon was recommended to the King for his services, 1610. (State Papers, 1623–5, p. 545.)
[172]. ‘Roger le Archeprest’ (J.). The term was in use in the seventeenth century. Smith, the ‘silver-tongued’ preacher, speaks of ‘priest, or priests, or archpriests, or any such like.’ (God’s Arrow against Atheists.)