"Thou art a Stranger in _London_, then," saith he, "for every Cockney knows the _Tower_, whose foundation Stones were cemented, they say, with Mortar tempered with Blood. And truly, Blood enow hath been spilt within it to bring a Judgment on its Walls. _Henry_ the _Sixth_ was murdered in the _Tower_, _George_ of _Clarence_ was drowned in the _Tower_, _Edward_ the _Fifth_ and _Richard_ Duke of _York_, those pretty Innocents, were smothered in the _Tower_, _Anne Boleyn_ and _Katherine Howard_ were beheaded in the _Tower_. And, for all it hath held a King's Parliament, and is our Citadel of Defence, a royal Palace for Assemblies, a Council-house for Treaties, a Treasury of Crown Jewels, the royal Mint of Coinage, the prime Conservator of Records, and the Armoury of warlike Provisions, yet, for the Tears and the Blood that have been shed in it, I could say, Down with it, down with it even unto the Ground! And methinks its evil Story is not yet wound up, but that a dark Cloud hangs over it e'en now. We shall see! we shall see! Many an ignoble Man rises aloft, many a proud Man is brought low. 'Tis time enough at one's Life's end to sing Gloria. Ah! our Bridge Tower, whereof I am Gate-keeper, hath another guess Foundation than _Cæsar's_; for on every one of its four Corner-stones is graven the Name of JESUS; _deep, but out of Sight_." And he peered into my Face as he spake that Saying, to wit if I felt its Force. "And now my Turn hath come to be trimmed," quod he, "so thou mayst thrum the Mandoline." When I went back, there was a Man with a Burthen leaving the Shop; and my Master saith, "Follow this Porter to Master _Askew's_ in _Candlewickstrete_, and bring home my little Daughter, who hath been spending the Forenoon at her Godfather's." So I went with the Porter, and on reaching _Candlewickstrete_, which was not full of Tallow-chandlers' Shops, but of Drapers, he shewed me Master _Askew's_ House; and I entered and found him in Parley with a Man in a red Coat. Quod he, "Well, I suppose my Lord must have it, but I like not the Security;" and handed him over a heavy Bag that seemed full of Money. Said the Man in Red, stowing the Bag under his Coat, "You were best not offend my Lord, for I warrant the Loss of his Custom would make you the worse by a pretty Penny." "Tut!" cries the other, "we could better afford to lose the Court than the Court to lose the City." On which, they parted. "Who art thou, my Lad?" quod he. "I'm my Master's new 'Prentice," quod I, "come to fetch Mistress _Anne_." "Ah!" quod he, "then you're from Master _Hewet_, though you speak as if there were but one Master in the World.... _Anne!_ sweet _Anne_!"