“The brewers will be all ruined,” said a burly ’prentice, with a wooden shovel over his shoulder; “since every day a fresh ale-house is closed; and no new licences are granted.  Murrain seize all such monopolists!  They are worse than the fly in hops, or smut in barley.”

“Ay, plague take ’em!” exclaimed Dick Taverner.  “They are as bad as the locusts of Egypt.  When they have devoured the substance of one set of tradesfolk they will commence upon that of another.  No one is safe from them.  It will be your turn next, Master Mercer.  Yours after him, Master Ironmonger, however hard of digestion may be your wares.  You will come third, Master Fishmonger.  You fourth, Master Grocer.  And when they are surfeited with spiceries and fish, they will fall upon you, tooth and nail, Master Goldsmith.”

“I trow not,” cried the apprentice last appealed to.  “Our masters are too rich and too powerful to submit to such usage.”

“The very reason they will undergo it,” replied Dick.  “Their riches are only a temptation to plunder.  I repeat, no man is safe from these extortioners.  Since the law will not give us redress, and put them down, we must take the law into our own hands.  They shall have Club Law.”

“Ay, ay—­’Prentices’ law—­Club law!” chorussed the others.

“Sir Giles will make a Star-Chamber matter of it.  He will have us up before the Council,” laughed the goldsmith’s ’prentice.

“He will buy a monopoly of cudgels to deprive us of their use,” cried a bowyer.

“We will bestow that patent upon him gratis,” quoth Dick, making his staff whistle round his head.

“The prisoner!—­gentlemen ’prentices—­do not forget him!” cried Cyprien, who, with two other serving-men and the cook, had joined the assailing party.  “Madame Bonaventure implores you to effect his rescue.”

“And so we will, my jovial Gascon,” replied Dick.  “Come, Sir Giles! are we to have the young gentleman from you by force or free-will?”

“You shall have him in neither way, sirrah,” the knight rejoined.  “You, yourself, shall bear him company in the Fleet.  Upon them, my men, and make for the door!”

And as the command was given, he and his troop made a sudden dash upon the ’prentices, who, unable to stand against the bills levelled against their breasts, gave way.  Still, the gallant youths were by no means routed.  Instantly closing upon their opponents, and being quite as nimble of foot as they, they contrived to cut off their retreat from the garden; and a sharp conflict took place between the parties, as they came to close quarters near the entrance.  Three of the myrmidons were felled by Dick Taverner’s cudgel; and at last, watching his opportunity, with both hands he launched a bowl which he had picked up at Sir Giles’s head.  If the missile had taken effect, the fight would have been over; but the knight avoided the blow by stooping down, and the bowl, passing over him, hit Lupo Vulp full in the stomach, and brought him to the ground deprived of breath.  Meanwhile, Sir Giles, springing quickly forward, pinned the apprentice against the wall with his rapier’s point.