And therewith the king came the same way unaware of them, for he had thought to have passed that way without London, and with him forty horse.... The mayor of London came to the king with twelve horsemen well armed under their coats, and so he broke the press and saw and heard how Wat Tyler demeaned himself, and said to him: "Ha, thou knave, how art thou so hardy in the king's presence to speak such words? It is too much for thee to do so." Then the king began to chafe and said to the mayor: "Set hands on him." And while the king said so, Tyler said to the mayor: "A God's name, what have I said to displease thee?" "Yes, truly," quoth the mayor, "thou false knave, shalt thou speak thus in the presence of the king, my natural lord?" And with these words the mayor drew out his sword and strake Tyler so great a stroke on the head, that he fell down at the feet of his horse, and as soon as he was fallen, they environed him all about, whereby he was not seen of his company. Then a squire of the king alighted, called John Standish, and he drew out his sword and put it through Wat Tyler's body, and so he died. Then the ungracious people there assembled, perceiving their captain slain, began to murmur among themselves and said: "Ah, our captain is slain, let us go and slay them all;" and therewith they arrayed themselves on the same place in manner of battle, and their bows before them. Then the king began a great deed; howbeit, all turned to the best: for as soon as Tyler was on the earth, the king departed from all his company, and all alone he rode to these people, and said to them: "Sirs, what aileth you? Ye shall have no captain but me: I am your king: be all in rest and peace." And so the most part of the people that heard the king speak and saw him among them, were shamefast and began to wax peaceable and depart. LONDON LICKPENNY (EARLY FIFTEENTH CENTURY). This poem is generally ascribed to John Lydgate, a disciple of Chaucer, but the authorship is doubtful. Whatever its poetical merit may be, it is full of interest as a picture of contemporary life in London, and the description of the adventures of the poor countryman, endeavouring to obtain legal justice in the metropolis, lacks neither pathos nor humour. =Source.=—_Minor Poems of Lydgate_, edited by Halliwell, p. 103. To London once my stepps I bent, Where trouth in no wyse should be faynt, To Westmynster-ward I forthwith went, To a man of law to make complaynt, I sayd, "For Marys love, that holy saynt! Pity the poore that wold proceede;" But for lack of mony I could not spede.