mpanied by
dicing, and much gaming, oaths, execrations, and quarrels: being of a
serious turn of mind, he regrets this, for he adds, "the sport, of
itself, I conceive to be lawful."

I suspect that the last memorable act of a Lord of Misrule of the inns
of court occurred in 1627, when the Christmas game became serious. The
Lord of Misrule then issued an edict to his officers to go out at
Twelfth-night to collect his rents in the neighbourhood of the Temple,
at the rate of five shillings a house; and on those who were in their
beds, or would not pay, he levied a distress. An unexpected resistance
at length occurred in a memorable battle with the Lord Mayor in
person:--and I shall tell how the Lord of Misrule for some time stood
victor, with his gunner, and his trumpeter, and his martial array: and
how heavily and fearfully stood my Lord Mayor amidst his "watch and
ward:" and how their lordships agreed to meet half way, each to preserve
his independent dignity, till one knocked down the other: and how the
long halberds clashed with the short swords: how my Lord Mayor
valorously took the Lord of Misrule prisoner with his own civic hand:
and how the Christmas prince was immured in the Counter; and how the
learned Templars insisted on their privilege, and the unlearned of
Ram's-alley and Fleet-street asserted their right of saving their
crown-pieces: and finally how this combat of mockery and earnestness was
settled, not without the introduction of "a god," as Horace allows on
great occasions, in the interposition of the king and the
attorney-general--altogether the tale had been well told in some comic
epic; but the wits of that day let it pass out of their hands.

I find this event, which seems to record the last desperate effort of a
"Lord of Misrule," in a manuscript letter of the learned Mede to Sir
Martin Stuteville; and some particulars are collected from Hammond
L'Estrange's Life of Charles the First.

"_Jan._ 12, 1627-8.

"On Saturday the Templars chose one Mr. Palmer their Lord of Misrule,
who, on Twelfth-eve, late in the night, sent out to gather up his rents
at five shillings a house in Ram-alley and Fleet-street. At every door
they came they winded the Temple-horn, and if at the second blast or
summons they within opened not the door, then the Lord of Misrule cried
out, 'Give fire, gunner!' His gunner was a robustious Vulcan, and the
gun or petard itself was a huge overgrown smith's hammer. This being