by
Shakespeare. It is said that in his last mayoralty King Henry V. and
Queen Catherine dined with him in the City, when Whittington caused a
fire to be lighted of precious woods, mixed with cinnamon and other
spices; and then taking all the bonds given him by the king for money
lent, amounting to no less than L60,000, he threw them into the fire and
burnt them, thereby freeing his sovereign from his debts. The king,
astonished at such a proceeding, exclaimed, "Surely, never had king such
a subject;" to which Whittington, with court gallantry, replied,
"Surely, sire, never had subject such a king."

Whittington was really four times mayor--twice in Richard II.'s reign,
once in that of Henry IV., and once in that of Henry V. As a mayor
Whittington was popular, and his justice and patriotism became
proverbial. He vigorously opposed the admission of foreigners into the
freedom of the City, and he fined the Brewers' Company L20 for selling
bad ale and forestalling the market. His generosity was like a
well-spring; and being childless, he spent his life in deeds of charity
and generosity. He erected conduits at Cripplegate and Billingsgate; he
founded a library at the Grey Friars' Monastery in Newgate Street (now
Christ's Hospital); he procured the completion of the "Liber Albus," a
book of City customs; and he gave largely towards the Guildhall library.
He paved the Guildhall, restored the hospital of St. Bartholomew, and by
his will left money to rebuild Newgate, and erect almshouses on College
Hill (now removed to Highgate). He died in 1427 (Henry VI.). Nor should
we forget that Whittington was also a great architect, and enlarged the
nave of Westminster Abbey for his knightly master, Henry V. This
large-minded and munificent man resided in a grand mansion in Hart
Street, up a gateway a few doors from Mark Lane. A very curious old
house in Sweedon's Passage, Grub Street, with an external winding
staircase, used to be pointed out as Whittington's; and the splendid old
mansion in Hart Street, Crutched Friars, pulled down in 1861, and
replaced by offices and warehouses, was said to have cats'-heads for
knockers, and cats'-heads (whose eyes seemed always turned on you)
carved in the ceilings. The doorways, and the brackets of the long lines
of projecting Tudor windows, were beautifully carved with grotesque
figures.

In 1418 (Henry V.) Sir William de Sevenoke was mayor. This rich merchant
had risen to the top of the tree b