s love, of help I hym praye.
I wot not what thou meanest, gan he say;
To get me thence he dyd me bede,
For lack of mony I cold not speed.

Within this hall, neithere ryche nor yett poor,
Wold do for me ought, although I shold dye;
Which seing, I gat me out of the doore,
Where Flemynge began on me for to cry,
Master, what will you copen or by,
Fyne felt hatts, or spectacles to reede?
Lay down your sylver, and here you may spede.

Then to Westmynster gate I presently went,
When the sonn was at hyghe pryme;
Cokes to me, they tooke good entent,
And profered me bread with ale and wyne,
Rybbs of befe both fat and ful fyne;
A fayre cloth they gan for to sprede,
But wantyng mony I might not be speede.

Then unto London I dyd me hye,
Of all the land it beareth the pryse;
Hot pescods one began to crye,
Straberry rype, and cherryes in the ryse:
One bad me come nere, and by some spyce,
Peper, and sayforne, they gan me bede;
But for lacke of money I myght not spede.

Then to the Chepe I began me drawne,
Where mutch people I sawe for to stande;
One ofred me velvet, sylke, and lawne,
An other he taketh me by the haunde,
Here is Parys thred, the fynest in the launde.
I never was used to such thyngs in dede,
And wanting mony I myght not spede.

Then went I forth by London stone,
Throughout all Canwyke streete;
Drapers mutch cloth me offred anone:
Then comes me one, cryd hot shepes feete,
One cryde makerell, ryshes grene, another gan greete,
One bad me by a hood to cover my head;
But fore want of mony I myght not be sped.

Then I hyed me into Estchepe;
One cryes rybbs of befe, and many a pye;
Pewter potts they clattered on a heape,
There was harpe, pype, and mynstrelsye;
Yea by cock, nay by cock, some began crye,
Some songe of Jenken and Julyan for there mede;
But for lack of mony I myght not spede.

Then into Cornhyll anon I yode,
Where was much stolen gere amonge;
I saw where honge myne owne hoode,
That I had lost amonge the thronge;
To by my own hood I thought it wronge,
I knew it well as I dyd my crede;
But for lack of mony I could not spede.

The Taverner took mee by the sleve;
Sir, sayth he, wyll you our wyne assay?
I answerd, that can not mutch me greve,
A peny can do no more than it may:
I dranke a pynt, and for it dyd pay;
Yet sore a hungerd from thence I yede,
And wantyng my mony I cold not spede.

Then hyed I me to Belyngsgate;
And one cryed hoo, go we hence;
I prayd a barge man for Gods sake,