This sally met with a favourable reception from the crowd, and a voice exclaimed—­“Ay, hang all knavish Puritans.”

Again Hugh Calveley lifted up his voice.  “Think not to make me afraid,” he cried; “I have confronted armed hosts with boldness when engaged in a worse cause than this, and I am not likely to give way before a base rabble, now that I have become a soldier of Christ and fight his battles.  I repeat my warnings to you, and will not hold my peace till you give heed to them.  Continue not in the sins of the Gentiles lest their punishment come upon you.  These are fearful times we live in.  London is become another Nineveh, and will be devoured by flames like that great city.  It is full of corruption and debauchery, of oppressions, thefts, and deceits.  With the prophet Nahum I exclaim—­’Wo to the city, it is full of lies and robbery!  What griping usury, what extortion are practised within it!  What fraud, what injustice, what misrule!  But the Lord’s anger will be awakened against it.  Palaces of kings are of no more account in His eyes than cottages of peasants.—­He cutteth off the spirits of Princes:  he is terrible to the Kings of the earth.’  He knoweth no difference between them that sit on thrones, and those that go from door to door.  For what saith the prophet Isaiah?—­’I will punish the stout heart of the King of Assyria, and the glory of his high looks.’  Let the Great Ones of the land be warned as well as the meanest, or judgment will come upon them.”

“Methinks that smacks of treason,” cried Dick Taverner.  “Our Puritan has quitted us poor fowl to fly at higher game.  Hark ye, Sir!” he added to Hugh Calveley.  “You would not dare utter such words as those in the King’s presence.”

“Thou art mistaken, friend,” the other rejoined.  “It is my purpose to warn him in terms strong as those I have just used.  Why should I hold my peace when I have a mission from on high?  I shall speak to the King as Nathan spoke to David.”

“He speaks like a prophet,” cried the miller; “I begin to have faith in him.  No doubt the iniquities of London are fearful.”

“If he preach against extortioners and usurers only, I am with him,” Dick Taverner said.  “If he rid London of Sir Giles Mompesson and his peers he will do good service—­still better, if he will put down corruption and injustice as exhibited in the Court of Star-Chamber—­eh, Master Jocelyn Mounchensey?”

At the mention of this name the Puritan appeared greatly surprised, and looked round inquiringly, till his eye alighted upon the young man.

After regarding him for a moment fixedly, he demanded—­“Art thou Jocelyn Mounchensey?”

The young man, equally surprised, replied in the affirmative.

“The son of Sir Ferdinando Mounchensey, of Massingham, in Norfolk?” inquired the Puritan.

“The same,” Jocelyn answered.

“Thy father was my nearest and dearest friend, young man,” Hugh Calveley said; “and thy father’s son shall be welcome to my dwelling.  Enter, I pray of you.  Yet pause for a moment.  I have a word more to declare to these people.  Ye heed not my words, and make a mock of me,” he continued, addressing the assemblage:  “but I will give you a sign that I have spoken the truth.”