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ied by the young king, they demand yet more, and become themselves the tyrants." "A traitor!--a traitor! Who speaks against our brave Wat Tyler? Kill the traitor! Down with tyranny! Death to the king! God save the people!" With such clamour and angry talk did the crowd agitate itself, till suddenly there arose a cry. "The king comes!" And there rode up fearlessly, at the head of sixty men, a boy, only fifteen years old, at sight of whom these rebels hung their heads and let their wild clamour die on their lips. A few of the most determined looked black as they regarded the royal boy, and noted the effect his frank carriage had on their followers. "I am come," said King Richard, rising on his horse at a few paces from the front of the crowd, "as I promised, to confer with my subjects and hear their grievances. Let your leader advance and speak with me." Then Wat Tyler turned to his followers and said to them, "I will go speak with him; do you abide my signal, then come on and slay all save the young king; he will serve us better as a humble captive in our hands, to lead through the land and bring all men to our service, than as a slaughtered tyrant at our feet." So he put spurs to his horse and advanced towards the king, whom he approached so close that the flank of the horse touched that of the king's. Richard, nothing daunted by this threatening demeanour, turned courteously towards him and waited for him to speak. "Do you see this concourse of people?" began Wat, rudely, pointing towards the now silent crowd. "I see them," said the boy. "What have you to ask on their behalf?" "These men," said Tyler, "have sworn, one and all, to obey me in all things, and to follow in whatever enterprise I shall lead them, and they will not go hence till you grant us our petition." "And I will grant it," replied the boy, frankly, for the demands to which Wat Tyler now alluded had reference to the rights of the people to hunt and fish on common lands. "I will grant it." What followed history does not very clearly record. Among the followers of the king, Wat, it is said, caught sight of a knight whom for some reason he hated. Turning his attention from the king, he glared angrily at his enemy, and, putting his hand on the hilt of his dagger, exclaimed, "By my faith, I will never eat bread till I have thy head!" At that same instant up rode Sir William Walworth, the Lord Mayor of London, who, seeing t
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