The wages and hours of work of the craftsman have not been satisfactorily ascertained. The day's work probably meant the whole day. Like the rustic, he would begin in the summer at five and leave off at 7.30, with certain breaks. In winter he would work through the daylight. His wages, which were ordered for the craft by the company, seem to have been ample so long as employment was continuous. But the crafts were always complaining of foreign competition. Edward IV., in 1463, states that owing to the import of wares fully wrought and ready made for sale, "artificers cannot live by their mysteries and occupations as they have done in times past, but divers of them, as well householders as hirelings, and under-servants and apprentices in great numbers, be this day unoccupied, and do hardly live in great misery, poverty, and need." Therefore the statute enumerates a long list of things that are not to be exported. Among these we observe knives, razors, scissors--showing that the cutlery trade was already flourishing then--but not swords, spear-heads, or armor of any kind. Actual artificers were not to be employers but only servants; those already established could sell in gross but not in retail, and they were not to have alien servants. That there was discontent among the working-men is clear from these statutes and from the constant attempts of the craftsmen to form journeyman, or yeoman guilds, whose real objects, though they might mask them under the name of religion, were to increase wages and keep out new-comers. Apart from the question of wages, what the craftsmen wanted was what the masters, too, demanded--"encouragement of natives, discouragement of foreigners, the development of shipping, and the amassing of treasure."[13] Such were the people of London in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Such was Plantagenet London, the land of Cocaigne--Cockney Land--whither the penniless young gentleman, the son of the country squire, made his way in search of the fortune which others had picked up on its golden pavement. Strewed with gold and silver sheen, In Cockneys' streets no molde is seen; Pancakes be the shingles alle Of church and cloister, bower and halle; Running rivers, grete and fine, Of hypocras and ale and wine. But, indeed, a pavement of flints and stones the City offered to any who tried to win her fortunes save by the way prescribed. Of course there were--there always are--many who cannot enter by the appointed gate, nor keep to the ordered way. As it is now, so it was then. There were rogues and cheats; there were men who preferred any way of life to the honest way. How the City in its wisdom dealt with those we shall now see.