Then looked every man over his shoulder hastily.
“Wat was drunk,” quoth one after a little.
“When a man 's drunk he spills more than his victual,” other answered him.
“Wat Tyler biddeth you to Smithfield, all the Fellowship!” bawled the crier.
“Wat Tyler's leader of the Fellowship, what harm?”
“Or John Ball?”
“I 'm of Jack Straw's ményé.”
“Good folk, good folk, to Smithfield,—do the King's bidding!” shouted another crier.
“Afore all I 'm King's man,” said a Kentish villein.
“And I!”