Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. I. Early Poetry: Chaucer to Donne

John Lydgate (c. 1370–c. 1451)

Extracts from London Lickpenny

TO London once my stepps I bent,

Where trouth in no wyse should be faynt,

To Westmynster-ward I forthwith went,

To a man of law to make complaynt;

I sayd, ‘for Marys love, that holy saynt!

Pity the poore that wold proceede’;

But for lack of mony I cold not spede.

Then unto London I dyd me hye,

Of all the land it beareth the pryse:

‘Hot pescodes,’ one began to crye,

‘Strabery rype, and cherryes in the ryse’;

One bad me come nere and by some spyce,

Peper and safforne they gan me bede,

But for lack of mony I myght not spede.

Then to the Chepe I began me drawne,

Where mutch people I saw for to stand;

One ofred me velvet, sylke, and lawne,

An other he taketh me by the hande,

‘Here is Parys thred, the fynest in the land’;

I never was used to such thyngs indede,

And wanting mony, I might not spede.

Then went I forth by London stone,

Th[o]roughout all Canwyke streete;

Drapers mutch cloth me offred anone;

Then comes me one, cryed, ‘Hot shepes feete’;

One cryde ‘makerell,’ ‘ryshes grene,’ an other gan greete;

On bad me by a hood to cover my head,

But for want of mony I myght not be sped.

Then I hyed me into Est-Chepe;

One cryes rybbs of befe, and many a pye:

Pewter pottes they clattered on a heape;

There was harpe, pype, and mynstralsye.

‘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 Corn-Hyll anon I yode,

Where was mutch 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 tooke me by the sleve,

‘Sir,’ sayth he, ‘wyll you our wyne assay’?

I answered, ‘That can not mutch me greve:

A peny can do no more then it may’;

I drank a pynt, and for it did paye;

Yet sone a-hungerd from thence I yede,

And wantyng mony, I cold not spede.

Then hyed I me to Belyngsgate;

And one cryed, ‘Hoo! go we hence!’

I prayd a barge-man, for God’s sake,

That he wold spare me my expence.

‘Thou scapst not here,’ quod he, ‘under two pence;

I lyst not yet bestow my almes dede.’

Thus, lackyng mony, I could not spede.

Then I convayd me into Kent;

For of the law wold I meddle no more;

Because no man to me tooke entent,

I dyght me to do as I dyd before.

Now Jesus, that in Bethlem was bore,

Save London, and send trew lawyers there mede!

For who so wantes mony with them shall not spede.