How long the City guild of tailors has sustained a corporate dignity it would be hard to say; we know however that Edward I. confirmed the guild under their old name of “Merchant Tailors and Linen Armourers.” Their symbolic shield bore a tent between two mantles, denoting that the honest men of the guild made cloaks for all customers, and tents for the royal army. Many a marquis has not half so delicate a device; and the _Mercatores Scissores_ have been worthily translated by those far less useful gentlemen,—the members of the College of Arms. The oath of the livery bound the new brother to the utmost possible respectability of life; but the oath was not broken when the taker of it, in a fit of enthusiastic pride, broke the head of a “Merchant Skinner” who dared claim precedency over the “Tailor.” A “bloody coxcomb” was too often the crest of the valiant Mercatores Scissores. Of the members of the company, in the olden time, the most illustrious was Hawkwood, to whom I have assigned a chapter, as becoming his super-sartorial dignity. Here I will only briefly speak of the school, and the more illustrious men whom it has furnished to the public service. The latter are bound to drink the immortal memory of the royal founder of the “Merchant Tailors and Linen Armourers.” The school was established by the company in 1560-1, “for children of all nations and countries indifferently;” a liberal provision, which was contracted in 1731 by an order of court, whereby express exclusion was made of the children of Jews. Among the statutes, there is especial injunction that, “in the schoole, at noe time of the yere, they shall use tallow candle in noe wise, but wax candles only;” an injunction which shows less regard for grammar than gentility. The school rather tripped at the beginning; for though Mulcaster, the head master, was an accomplished scholar, the ushers brought with them from the north such a Bœotian accent, that the boys went home talking “broad Yorkshire!” Mulcaster, the master, too could occasionally indulge in very harsh English of the vulgar tongue, abusing the “visitors” roundly,—a rudeness that ought not to have been seen at a school lit only with wax candles, and having six or seven and thirty scholarships at St. John’s. Mulcaster was a choleric man; but in his mastership of a quarter of a century he “turned out” four bishops. These, when boys, had been the widest awake, while the master slept; for, as Fuller tells us, “he slept his hour (custom made him critical to proportion it) in his desk in the school, but woe be to the scholar that slept the while. Awaking, he heard them accurately; and Atropos might be persuaded to pity, as soon as he to pardon. The prayers of cockering mothers prevailed with him as much as the requests of indulgent fathers, rather increasing than mitigating his severity on their offending children.” In our days, Dr. Hessey can make good scholars by a more merciful and dignified process.