Then the whole company looked on while Hick the horsedealer and Clement the cobbler played at a kind of game called the _New Fair_; which was really a kind of bartering by handicap, and constituted a mild form of gambling. The idea was simple enough, though it led to a large amount of dispute and wrangling before it could be satisfactorily settled. First of all, Clement the cobbler took off his cloak and laid it on a table or chair. Then Hick took off his hood, and laid it beside the cloak. Then the whole business was to appraise the relative worth of the articles, which they wholly failed to do, till they appointed an umpire, viz. Robin the rope-maker. Robin’s decision was very advantageous to the taverner. It was clear that the cloak was worth more than the hood; so that some compensation was due to Clement, who accepted the hood in exchange. So he was allowed to fill up his cup at Hick’s expense. And it was further provided that, if either of the parties was dissatisfied with the award, he was to be fined in a gallon of ale; out of which gallon he was to drink the health of Sir Glutton, who had been so good as to preside over the matter in dispute. And so things went on, till every one grew more or less uproarious; and we are not surprised to hear that when Sir Glutton at last rose up, late in the evening, too late to go to church, he had already consumed about a gallon, and a gill over; and, in crossing the floor, he went no straighter than a blind man’s dog, which is sometimes in front and sometimes behind. He had much difficulty in finding the door, and finally stumbled over the threshold, unable to rise; and at last, Clement and others had to carry him home. Then, with all the trouble in the world, his wife and his maid got him safely into bed, and there he slept all Saturday and all Sunday, waking up at last on the Sunday evening. And as soon as ever he unclosed his eyes, the first word that he said was, “Where stands the bowl?” It is some satisfaction to know that his wife administered to him a severe rebuke, and that he was thoroughly ashamed of himself, and promised to observe Friday, thenceforward, as a day of abstinence and church-going. From this it would appear that the manner of life as conducted inside a tavern was not very different from what it is now. One of the most curious points in Langland’s description of this company is his inclusion of “the hangman of Tyburn.” Perhaps it is not generally known that there were, in fact, two Tyburns. The more celebrated one is that which took its name from the bourn or stream that was formerly called Tybourn. The exact spot where the gallows stood was not always precisely the same, but one position of it is denoted by a mark near the junction of Edgware Road with Oxford Street, not far from the Marble Arch. But there was another place of execution in Southwark, close to the St. Thomas-a-Waterings mentioned by Chaucer in his famous Prologue; and