ood
it were if the Holy Church were to look to it (and the Lollards might
help herein) that all these naughty and wearisome holidays were done
away with; or that it should be unlawful for any man below the degree
of a squire to keep the holy days of the church, except in the heart
and the spirit only, and let the body labour meanwhile; for does not
the Apostle say, 'If a man work not, neither should he eat'? And if
such things were done, and such an estate of noble rich men and worthy
poor men upholden for ever, then would it be good times in England, and
life were worth the living."

All this were the lords at work on, and such talk I knew was common not
only among the lords themselves, but also among their sergeants and
very serving-men. But the people would not abide it; therefore, as I
said, in Essex they were on the point of rising, and word had gone how
that at St. Albans they were wellnigh at blows with the Lord Abbot's
soldiers; that north away at Norwich John Litster was wiping the woad
from his arms, as who would have to stain them red again, but not with
grain or madder; and that the valiant tiler of Dartford had smitten a
poll-groat bailiff to death with his lath-rending axe for mishandling a
young maid, his daughter; and that the men of Kent were on the move.

Now, knowing all this I was not astonished that they shouted at the
thought of their fellows the men of Essex, but rather that they said
little more about it; only Will Green saying quietly, "Well, the
tidings shall be told when our fellowship is greater; fall-to now on
the meat, brother, that we may the sooner have thy tale." As he spoke
the blue-clad damsel bestirred herself and brought me a clean
trencher--that is, a square piece of thin oak board scraped clean--and
a pewter pot of liquor. So without more ado, and as one used to it, I
drew my knife out of my girdle and cut myself what I would of the flesh
and bread on the table. But Will Green mocked at me as I cut, and
said, "Certes, brother, thou hast not been a lord's carver, though but
for thy word thou mightest have been his reader. Hast thou seen
Oxford, scholar?"

A vision of grey-roofed houses and a long winding street and the sound
of many bells came over me at that word as I nodded "Yes" to him, my
mouth full of salt pork and rye-bread; and then I lifted my pot and we
made the clattering mugs kiss and I drank, and the fire of the good
Kentish mead ran through my veins and deepene