; the chief man in
the riot was one of Clifford's Inn, named Harbottle; and this
irrepressible Harbottle and his fellows only the appearance of the mayor
and sheriffs could quiet. In 1458 (in the same reign) there was a more
serious riot of the same kind; the students were then driven back by
archers from the Conduit near Shoe Lane to their several inns, and some
slain, including "the Queen's attornie," who certainly ought to have
known better and kept closer to his parchments. Even the king's meek
nature was roused at this, he committed the principal governors of
Furnival's, Clifford's, and Barnard's inns, to the castle of Hertford,
and sent for several aldermen to Windsor Castle, where he either rated
or imprisoned them, or both.

Fleet Street often figures in the chronicles of Elizabeth's reign. On
one visit it is particularly said that she often graciously stopped her
coach to speak to the poor; and a green branch of rosemary given to her
by a poor woman near Fleet Bridge was seen, not without marvellous
wonder of such as knew the presenter, when her Majesty reached
Westminster. In the same reign we are told that the young Earl of
Oxford, after attending his father's funeral in Essex, rode through
Fleet Street to Westminster, attended by seven score horsemen, all in
black. Such was the splendid and proud profusion of Elizabeth's nobles.

James's reign was a stormy one for Fleet Street. Many a time the ready
'prentices snatched their clubs (as we read in "The Fortunes of Nigel"),
and, vaulting over their counters, joined in the fray that surged past
their shops. In 1621 particularly, three 'prentices having abused
Gondomar, the Spanish ambassador, as he passed their master's door in
Fenchurch Street, the king ordered the riotous youths to be whipped from
Aldgate to Temple Bar. In Fleet Street, however, the apprentices rose in
force, and shouting "Rescue!" quickly released the lads and beat the
marshalmen. If there had been any resistance, another thousand sturdy
'prentices would soon have carried on the war.

Nor did Charles's reign bring any quiet to Fleet Street, for then the
Templars began to lug out their swords. On the 12th of January, 1627,
the Templars, having chosen a Mr. Palmer as their Lord of Misrule, went
out late at night into Fleet Street to collect his rents. At every door
the jovial collectors winded the Temple horn, and if at the second blast
the door was not courteously opened, my lord cried majes