CRYPT IN BOW CHURCH, FROM THE NORTH SIDE, NEAR THE EAST END OF THE NAVE
The Mystery is over; the people have all gone away; the stage is removed, and the church is empty again. Two priests are left, and their talk is like a jarring note after sweet music. "Brother," says one, "were it not for such shows as these, if we did not present to the people the things which belong to religion in such a way that the dullest can understand, the Church would be in a parlous way. All folk cry out upon the profligacy of the monks, and their luxury, and the greed of the priests. What sayeth Walter Map, that good archdeacon?
"'Omnis a clericis fluit enormitas,
Cum Deo debeant mentes sollicitas,
Tractant negotia mercesque vetitas
Et rerum turpium vices indebitas.'"
"I hear," said the other, "that two Cistercians have lately become apostate to the Jews."
"Rather," replied the first, "they should have become Christians, so to separate themselves the better from that accursed body."
INTERIOR OF PORCH OF THE PARISH CHURCH OF ST. ALPHEGE, LONDON WALL, FORMERLY THE CHAPEL OF THE PRIORY OF ST. ELSYNGE SPITAL
These are the distant rumblings of the gathering storm. But the Church will become much richer, much more powerful, the monks will become much more profligate, the priests will become far more greedy before things grow to be intolerable.
It is an evening in May. What means this procession? Here comes a sturdy rogue marching along valiantly, blowing pipe and beating tabor. After him, a rabble rout of lads and young men, wearing flowers in their caps, and bearing branches and singing lustily. This is what they sing, not quite in these words, but very nearly: