Then I hied me into Est Chepe; One cries ribes of befe, and many a pie; Pewtar potts they clatteryd or a heape; Ther was harpe, pipe, and sawtry; Ye by cokke, nay by cokke, some began to cry; Some sang of Jenken and Julian, to get themselves mede; Ful fayne I wold hadd of that mynstralsie, But for lacke of money I cowld not spede. Into Cornhill anon I yede, Where is moche stolne gere amonge; I saw wher henge myne owne hode, That I had lost in Westminstar amonge the throng; Then I beheld it with lokes full longe, I kenned it as well as I dyd my crede, To be myne owne hode agayne; me thought it wrong, But for lacke of money I might not spede. Then came the Taverner, and toke me by the sleve, And seyd Ser, a pint of wyn would yow assay? Syr, qwod I, it may not greve, For a peny may do no more then it may: I dranke a pint, and therefore gan pay; Sore a hungred away I yede, For well London lykke peny for ones eye, For lake of money I may not spede. Then I hyed me to Byllingesgate, And cried wagge wagge gow hens; I praye a barge man, for Gods sake, That they would spare me myn expens; He sayde, ryse up, man, and get the hens, What menist thow, I will do on the no almes dede, Here scapeth no man byneth ij pens, For lacke of money I myght not spede. Then I conveyed me into Kent; For of the law would I medle no more, By caus no man to me would take entent, I dight me to the plowe even as I did before. Thus save London that in Bethelem was bore, And every trew man of law God graunt hymsels med, And they that be othar, God theyr state restore; For he that lacketh money with them he shall not spede. EXPLICIT LONDON LIKKE PENY. LONDON LYCKPENY. A BALLADE COMPYLED BY DAN JOHN LYDGATE MONKE OF BERY, ABOUT ---- YERES AGOE, AND NOW NEWLY OVERSENE AND AMENDED. [_Harleian MSS._ 367, f. 126, 127.] To London once, my stepps I bent, Where trouth in no wyse should be faynt: To Westmynster ward I forthwith went, To a man of law to make complaynt. I sayd, for Mary's love that holy saynt, Pity the poore that would proceede; But for lack of mony I cold not spede. And as I thrust the prese amonge, By froward chaunce my hood was gone; Yet for all that I stayd not longe, Tyll at the kynge bench I was come. Before the judge I kneled anon, And prayd hym for Gods sake to take heede; But for lack of money I myght not spede. Beneth them sat clarkes a great rout, Which fast dyd wryte by one assent; There stoode up one and cryed about, Rychard, Robert, and John of Kent; I wyst not wele what this man ment: He cryed so thycke there indede, But he that lackt mony myght not spede. Unto the common place I yode thoo, Where sat one with a sylken hoode; I dyd hym reverence, for I ought to do so, And told my case as well as I coud, How my goods were defrauded me by falshood. I gat not a mum of his mouth for my meed, And for lack of mony I myght not spede.