FLOS MERCATORUM! On that night of nights We drew from out our Mermaid cellarage All the old glory of London in one cask Of magic vintage. Never a city on earth-- Rome, Paris, Florence, Bagdad--held for Ben The colours of old London; and, that night, We staved them like a wine, and drank, drank deep! 'Twas Master Heywood, whom the Mermaid Inn Had dubbed our London laureate, hauled the cask Out of its ancient harbourage. "Ben," he cried, Bustling into the room with Dekker and Brome, "The prentices are up!" Ben raised his head Out of the chimney-corner where he drowsed, And listened, reaching slowly for his pipe. "_Clerk of the Bow Bell_," all along the Cheape There came a shout that swelled into a roar. "What! Will they storm the Mermaid?" Heywood laughed, "They are turning into Bread Street!" Down they came! We heard them hooting round the poor old Clerk-- "Clubs! Clubs! The rogue would have us work all night! He rang ten minutes late! Fifteen, by Paul's!" And over the hubbub rose, like a thin bell, The Clerk's entreaty--"Now, good boys, good boys, Children of Cheape, be still, I do beseech you! I took some forty winks, but then...." A roar Of wrathful laughter drowned him--"Forty winks! Remember Black May-day! We'll make you wink!" There was a scuffle, and into the tavern rushed Gregory Clopton, Clerk of the Bow Bell,-- A tall thin man, with yellow hair a-stream, And blazing eyes. "Hide me," he clamoured, "quick! These picaroons will murder me!" I closed The thick oak doors against the coloured storm Of prentices in red and green and ray, Saffron and Reading tawny. Twenty clubs Drubbed on the panels as I barred them out; And even our walls and shutters could not drown Their song that, like a mocking peal of bells, Under our windows, made all Bread Street ring:-- "_Clerk of the Bow Bell, With the yellow locks, For thy late ringing Thy head shall have knocks!_" Then Heywood, seeing the Clerk was all a-quake, Went to an upper casement that o'er-looked The whole of Bread Street. Heywood knew their ways, And parleyed with them till their anger turned To shouts of merriment. Then, like one deep bell His voice rang out, in answer to their peal:-- "_Children of Cheape, Hold you all still! You shall have Bow Bell Rung at your will!_" Loudly they cheered him. Courteously he bowed, Then firmly shut the window; and, ere I filled His cup with sack again, the crowd had gone.