Nat Field bestrode our sign And kissed the painted Mermaid on her lips, Then waved his tankard. "Here they come," he cried. "Camden and Selden, Chapman and Marston, too, And half Will's company with our big Ben Riding upon their shoulders." "Look!" cried Dekker, "But where is Atlas now? O, let them have it! A thumping chorus, lads! Let the roof crack!" And all the Mermaid clashed and banged again In thunderous measure to the marching tune That rolled down Bread Street, forty voices strong:-- At _Ypres Inn_, by _Wring-wren Lane_, Old John of Gaunt would dine: He scarce had opened an oyster or twain, Or drunk one flagon of wine, When, all along the Vintry Ward, He heard the trumpets blow, And a voice that roared--"If thou love thy lord, Tell John of Gaunt to go!" _Chorus:_ A great voice roared--"If thou love thy lord, Tell John of Gaunt to go!" Then into the room rushed Haviland That fair fat Flemish host, "They are marching hither with sword and brand, Ten thousand men--almost! It is these oysters or thy sweet life, Thy blood or the best of the bin!"-- "Proud Pump, avaunt!" quoth John of Gaunt, "I will dine at _The Mermaid Inn!_" _Chorus:_ "Proud Pump, avaunt!" quoth John of Gaunt, "There is wine at _The Mermaid Inn!_"