Cross Inn. Once, a northern chaplain, “with other malefactors,” embattled themselves and sought out the Welshmen with bent bows, crying to the “Welsh dogs and their whelps” that an Owen or a Meredydd who looked out at his door was a dead man. The Welshmen were driven out of the city with ignominy and blood. The Northeners robbed and murdered indiscriminately, and destroyed not only books but harps, until, finding an ale-house, they were incontinently appeased. On another occasion some townsmen burst in, on a Sunday, upon a few scholars, wounding and despoiling them. The scholars spread their story and collected friends. The townsmen responded to the sound of horns and St. Martin’s bell. Countrymen from Hinksey and Headington came to the help of the unlearned. The air whistled and hummed with the flight of arrows and stones; the streets were crimsoned. But the reverend gentleman who led the learned was untimely shot down, and his cause evaporated. Some scholars fled to the country, some to sanctuary, and were comforted by the excommunication and fining of their opponents. After a similar fight the University was allowed that exemption from the city courts which it still enjoys. In fact, the disturbances earned very cheaply for the University concessions which put the citizens at a disadvantage, and emphasised distinctions, so as to cause other disturbances in turn. Henry V., himself a Queen’s College man, at last interfered with an order that scholars would only be treated as such if they were under the rule of an approved head. It was an attempt to banish the wild errant scholars, often Irishmen, and to make a common type of Chaucer’s Clerk of Oxenford, who had been to Padua and knew Petrarch’s verse. He was one who, even in his devotion to books, did not forget the souls of his benefactors, for which he was, in the first instance, endowed to pray-- And he was not right fat, I undertake, But looked holwe, and therto sobrely; Ful thredbare was his overeste courtepy; For he hadde geten hym yet no benefice, Ne was so worldly for to have office; For hym was levere have at his beddes heed Twenty bookes clad in black or reed Of Aristotle and his philosophic, Than robës riche, or fithele, or gay sautrie; But al be that he was a philosophre, Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre; But al that he myghte of his freendes hente On bookes and his lernynge he it spent, And bisily gan for the soules preye Of him that yaf hym wherewith to scoleye. Of studie tooke he moost cure and moost heede, Noght o word spake he moore than was neede, And that was seyd in forme and reverence, And short and quyk and ful of hy sentence. Sounynge in moral vertu was his speche, And gladly wolde he lerne and gladly teche.