I have spoken of the sober guise of the London merchant. That sober guise belonged to the places where the merchant was mostly found: to the Royal Exchange, for instance, or Thames Street, beside the quays and warehouses. We must not think that there was no longer brightness of colour and even splendour in the streets. The rich liveries of the great nobles were chiefly seen on the river—remember that the front of the Palace faced the river, that the back belonged to the Strand, and that the river was London’s principal highway. Their varlets lolled about on the river stairs or escorted their master in his barge, but hardly belonged to the City. A Court gallant was dressed as extravagantly as he could afford, or as his estate would bear. He carried manors on his back, broad acres in his velvet cloak, with golden buckles and lace trimming, a year’s rents in his fantastic doublet slashed and puffed, in his silken hose, in his splendid sword, his scabbard and the handle set with gold, in his rings, his scents, his gloves and in his chains. But the Court gallant seldom showed on Thames Street. In Norman and Plantagenet London there were no shops, nor was there anything sold in the streets except in the market-places, and the streets set aside for retail trade. But in the Tudor time Street Cries had already begun. We find, for instance, the following pleasant verses:— “Who liveth so merry in all this land As doth the poor widow that selleth the sand? And ever shee singeth as I can guesse, Will you buy any sand, any sand, mistress? The broom-man maketh his living most sweet, With carrying of broomes from street to street; Who would desire a pleasanter thing, Than all the day long to doe nothing but sing? The chimney-sweeper all the long day, He singeth and sweepeth the soote away; Yet when he comes home altho’ he be weary, With his sweet wife he maketh full merry. The cobbler he sits cobbling till none, And cobbleth his shoes till they be done; Yet doth he not feare, and so doth say, For he knows his worke will soone decay. Who liveth so merry and maketh such sport As those that be of the poorest sort? The poorest sort wheresoever they be, They gather together by one, two, and three. Broomes for old shoes! pouch-rings, bootes and buskings! Will yee buy any new broomes? New oysters! new oysters! new new cockels! Cockels nye! fresh herrings! Will yee buy any straw? Hay yee any kitchen stuffe, maides? Pippins fine, cherrie ripe, ripe, ripe! Cherrie ripe! etc. Hay any wood to cleave? Give eare to the clocke! Beware your locke! Your fire and your light! And God give you good night! One o’clocke!”