They spent much of their time now in St. Paul's Church. Here employment was like to offer, and here was comparative safety from arrest, certain parts of the church being held sanctuary for debtors. To St. Paul's, therefore, they went on the morning that found them again roofless; keeping a lookout on the way thither for any sheriff's men who might with warrant be in quest of them. It was fortunate that none waylaid them, for the captain was in such mood that he would have gone near slaying any that had. Neither he nor Holyday had eaten for two days.
They took their station against a pillar in the middle aisle of the great church, and watched with sharp eyes the many-coloured crowd of men, of every grade from silken gallants to burden-bearing porters, that passed up and down before them, making a ceaseless noise of footfalls and voices, and sometimes giving the pair scant room for their famished bodies.
The St. Paul's of that time was larger than the present cathedral. It covered three and a half acres, and was proportionately lofty. Thanks to its great doors and wide aisles, it afforded a short way through for those foot-goers in whose route it lay,—porters, labourers, and citizens going about their business. But its wide aisles served better still as a covered lounging-place for those on whose hands time hung heavy,—gentlemen of fashion, men who lived by their wits, fellows who sought service, and the like. These were the true "Paul's walkers." It was a meeting-place, too, for those who had miscellaneous business to transact; a great resort for the exchange of news, in a day when newspapers did not exist. Certain of the huge pillars supporting the groined arches of the roof were used to post advertising bills upon. The services, in which a very fine organ and other instruments were employed, were usually held in the choir only, and the crowd in the nave and transepts did not much disturb itself on account of them. The time of most resort was the hour before the midday dinner; and it was then that Ravenshaw and Holyday took their stand before the pillar on this May morning.
"There walks a poet that hath found a patron," said the scholar. "Yet 'tis ten to one the verses he is showing are no better than these sonnets in my breeches pocket here."
"If you had a capon's leg or two in your breeches pocket it were more to the purpose," replied the captain.
"'Troth, my sonnets are full of capon's legs and all other things good to eat," sighed Holyday. "I've conceived rare dishes lately; I have writ of nothing else."
"If we could but eat the dishes out of thy sonnets!" muttered Ravenshaw. "How can you write sonnets while you are hungry?"
"Why, your born poet finds discomfort a spur. There was the prophet Jonas writ a sonnet in the whale's belly."