Every day the lobbies of the Houses were thronged by people eagerly watching the fate of the documents which expressed their opinions. Every day the area of Westminster Hall echoed with the tramp of jostling crowds and the loud buzz of angry talk touching Church and Bishops. Episcopalians came face to face with Puritans and Separatists. Staid and sober citizens anxious for reform, were elbowed by rollicking country squires, who wished to see things restored to the state in which they had been in the days of Lord Strafford. Cavaliers, full of pride and state, crossed the path of patriots whom they denounced as the enemies of their country. Soldiers, with swords by their side, marched up and down amidst the rabble, who carried staves or clubs. Roistering apprentices, with idlers and vagabonds of all descriptions, putting on a semblance of religious zeal, shouted at the top of their voice favourite watchwords as they went along, and delighted in all sorts of mischief.[243] [Sidenote: _Westminster Riots._] December the 27th, being the Monday after Christmas Day, Colonel Lunsford, just appointed Lieutenant of the Tower--much to the disquietude of the Londoners, who denounced him as a Papist, and as being on that account utterly unfit for such a trust--came into the Hall; when some of the citizens beginning to abuse him, he and his companions drew their swords. The same day, Archbishop Williams walked towards the House of Peers with the Earl of Dover, when an apprentice lad, seeing his Grace, vociferated the popular cry of "No Bishop." This so aroused the Welshman's ire, that, leaving his noble friend, he rushed toward the vulgar urchin, and laid hands on him. This unbecoming act,--for "a Bishop should be no striker,"--made the wrath of the populace boil up afresh; and hemming in the prelate so that he could not stir, they continued shouting in his ears, "No Bishop," "No Bishop:" until they proceeded to an act of violence, and tore his gown "as he passed from the stairhead into the entry that leads to the Lords' House."[244] It is also stated that he was beaten by the prentices. A blustering "reformado," named David Hide, mingled in the fray, and looking savagely on the apprentices with their cropped hair, declared that he would cut the throats of "those round-headed dogs that bawled against bishops."[245] "Round-headed,"--the words so aptly fitted to the London lads--took with the Cavalier gentlemen; they forthwith applied it to the whole Puritan party, and so David Hide's impromptu became Court slang, and rose into the dignity of a world-known appellation.