'
This sally brought more laughter. Poor Edward drew himself up
proudly and said:
'I am the prince; and it ill beseemeth you that feed upon the king
my father's bounty to use me so.'
This was vastly enjoyed, as the laughter testified. The youth
who had first spoken shouted to his comrades:
'Ho, swine, slaves, pensioners of his grace's princely father,
where be your manners? Down on your marrow bones, all of ye, and do
reverence to his kingly port and royal rags!'
With boisterous mirth they dropped upon their knees in a body
and did mock homage to their prey. The prince spurned the nearest
boy with his foot, and said fiercely:
'Take thou that, till the morrow come and I build thee a gibbet!'
Ah, but this was not a joke- this was going beyond fun. The
laughter ceased on the instant and fury took its place. A dozen
shouted:
'Hale him forth! To the horse-pond, to the horse-pond! Where be
the dogs? Ho, there, Lion! ho, Fangs!'
Then followed such a thing as England had never seen before- the
sacred person of the heir to the throne rudely buffeted by plebeian
hands, and set upon and torn by dogs.
As night drew to a close that day, the prince found himself far
down in the close-built portion of the city. His body was bruised, his
hands were bleeding, and his rags were all besmirched with mud. He
wandered on and on, and grew more and more bewildered, and so tired
and faint he could hardly drag one foot after the other. He had ceased
to ask questions of any one, since they brought him only insult
instead of information.
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