But the next day, May 15th, whether they distinguished between the assurances given by his Majesty and the rejection of the bill by the Lords; or whether, as is more probable, they had been instigated under-hand, they went to the House of Lords in great bodies, behaving in the most riotous manner, abusing the Peers, and applauding the Commons, who had passed their bill. The Chancellor’s[123] coach they stopped, and asked him if he had been against the bill? He stoutly replied, Yes. They were abashed at his firmness, and said they hoped he would do justice. He replied, “Always, and everywhere; and whoever did, need fear nothing.” When the Duke of Bedford appeared, they hissed and pelted him; and one of the mob taking up a large stone for the new pavement, dashed it into the chariot: the Duke broke the force of the blow by holding up his arm, but it cut his hand, and bruised him on the temple; so narrowly he escaped with his life. They then followed him to his own house, where with great temper he admitted two of the ringleaders to a parley, and they went away seemingly appeased.[124] The next day the House of Lords issued out orders for preservation of the peace; but the weavers continued to parade the streets and the park, though without committing any violence. On the Friday, the Lords sent for Justice Fielding, who said the weavers had done no mischief. The Chancellor, who had been trusted by the Ministers with none of their late extraordinary measures, and who probably foresaw their downfall, was sullen, and would take no part. Few Lords attended, and everything announced to the Ministers their approaching disgrace. About dinner-time, the Duke of Bedford received intelligence that his house would be assaulted at night, on which he sent away his jewels and papers, and demanded a party of horse; the Duchess[125] persisting in remaining with him in the house. His friends and dependants, and several officers, garrisoned it; and as was foreseen, the rioters in prodigious numbers assaulted the house in the evening, and began to pull down the wall of the court;[126] but the great gates being thrown open, the party of horse appeared, and sallying out, while the riot act was read, rode round Bloomsbury Square, slashing and trampling on the mob, and dispersing them; yet not till two or three of the guards had been wounded. In the meantime a party of the rioters had passed to the back of the house, and were forcing their way through the garden, when fortunately fifty more horse arriving, in the very critical instant, the house was saved, and perhaps the lives of all that were in it. The Duke, however, and his company kept watch all night; and the coffee-houses were filled with curious and idle people, who sent with great indifference every hour to learn how the siege went on. The disappointed populace vented their rage on the house of Carr, a fashionable mercer, who dealt in French silks, and demolished the windows. All Saturday they remained