To prove Calote and vent his own spleen Jack Straw said this; but he reckoned without the peddler, who immediately rose up and cracked him with his fist betwixt his insolent white-lashed eyes so that he fell over backward on the floor and lay a-blinking.
“I thank thee, friend,” said Langland.
“Thou 'rt well served, Jack,” said Wat Tyler. “Get up and mind thy manners!”
“I 'll kill him,—I 'll beat out 's brains,” muttered Jack Straw, and scrambled shakily to his knees.
“Thou 'lt touch no hair on 's head,” Wat answered roughly. “Go kill Calote her cowards! this one 's an honest man, shall be kept.”
“Sh-shall I hi-hit him again, mistress?” asked the peddler.
“Nay, prythee, nay!” cried Calote. And to Jack Straw she said: “Thou knowest well that I am not aweary of mine own folk, nor never shall be. Yet, 't were pity if I might wander in England, up and down, two year, and come home no wiser than afore. The people is not ready to rise up. Each man striveth after his own gain, his own vengeance,—'t is mockery to call it fellowship.”
“Thou hast not journeyed in Kent; thou hast not heard John Ball,” said Wat, “else wouldst thou never say 't is hate is the soul and spring of this uprising. What have the Kentish men to gain, of freedom, but here and there the name of 't? They 're freest men in England, no fools neither. 'T is for their brothers' sake they 'll rise; for Essex' sake, where Christen men are sold to be slaves. Small wonder men are slow to learn love in Essex. Come down to Canterbury, come down into the Weald,—I 'll show thee fellowship that is no mockery.”
“Then let 's be patient, Wat! Let 's wait till other shires be so wise and loving as Kent!”
“Wait, quotha!” sneered Jack Straw. “And what hast thou been about, this two year, that thou wert sent to learn them fellowship? I trow there hath been little wisdom, but loving a-plenty,—in corners with stray peddlers and packmen. 'Wait,' sayst 'ou? But I say 't is time! Wherefore is not the people ready?”