Certainly the practice was growing in Essex, where, some twenty years after Thomas Paycocke's death, the weavers petitioned against the clothiers, who had their own looms and weavers and fullers in their own houses, so that the petitioners were rendered destitute; 'for the rich men, the clothiers, be concluded and agreed among themselves to hold and pay one price for weaving the said cloths,' a price too small to support their households, even if they worked day and night, holiday and work-day, so that many of them lost their independence and were reduced to become other men's servants.[7] Nevertheless, the outwork system remained the more common, and without doubt the majority of Paycocke's workers lived in their own cottages, though it is probable also that he had some looms in his house, perhaps in the long, low room at the back, which is traditionally supposed to have been used for weaving, perhaps in a shed or 'spinning house'.
A highly idyllic picture of work in one of these miniature factories, which we may amuse ourselves by applying to Thomas Paycocke's, is contained in Deloney's _Pleasant History of Jack of Newbery._ Jack of Newbury was an historical character, a very famous clothier named John Winchcomb who died at Newbury only a year later than Paycocke himself, and of whom Paycocke must certainly have heard, for his kersies were famous on the Continent, and old Fuller, who celebrates him among his _Worthies of England_ calls him 'the most considerable clothier (without fancy or fiction) England ever beheld'.[8] The tales of how he had led a hundred of his own 'prentices to Flodden Field, how he had feasted the King and Queen in his house at Newbury, how he had built part of Newbury Church, and how he had refused a knighthood, preferring 'to rest in his russet coat a poor clothier to his dying day,' spread about England, growing as they spread.

In 1597 Thomas Deloney, the forefather of the novel, enshrined them in a rambling tale, half prose and half verse, which soon became extremely popular.

It is from this tale that we may take an imaginary picture of work in a clothier's house, being wary to remember, however, that it is an exaggeration, a legend, and that the great John Winchcomb certainly never had as many as two hundred looms in his own house, while our Thomas Paycocke probably had not more than a dozen.

But the poet must have his licence, for, after all, the spirit of the ballad is the thing, and it is always a pleasant diversion to drop into rhyme: Within one roome, being large and long There stood two hundred Loomes full strong.
Two hundred men, the truth is so, Wrought in these Loomes all in a row.
By every one a pretty boy Sate making quilts with mickle joy, And in another place hard by A hundred women merily Were carding hard with joy full cheere Who singing sate with voyces cleere, And in a chamber close beside Two hundred maidens did abide, In petticoats of Stammell red, And milk white kerchers on their head.
Their smocke-sleeves like to winter snow That on the Westerne mountaines flow, And each sleeve with a silken band Was featly tied at the hand.
These pretty maids did never lin But in that place all day did spin, And spinning so with voyces meet Like nightingales they sang full sweet.
Then to another roome came they Where children were in poore aray; And every one sate picking wool The finest from the course to cull: The number was sevenscore and ten The children of poore silly men: And these their labours to requite Had every one a penny at night, Beside their meat and drinke all day, Which was to them a wondrous stay.
Within another place likewise Full fifty proper men he spies And these were sheremen everyone, Whose skill and cunning there was showne: And hard by them there did remaine Full four-score rowers taking paine.
A Dye-house likewise had he then, Wherein he kept full forty men: And likewise in his Fulling Mill Full twenty persons kept he still.
Each weeke ten good fat oxen he Spent in his house for certaintie, Beside good butter, cheese and fish And many another wholesome dish.
He kept a Butcher all the yeere, A Brewer eke for Ale and Beere; A Baker for to bake his Bread, Which stood his hushold in good stead.
Five Cookes within his kitchin great Were all the yeare to dress his meat.
Six Scullion boyes vnto their hands, To make clean dishes, pots and pans, Beside poore children that did stay To turne the broaches every day.
The old man that did see this sight Was much amaz'd, as well he might: This was a gallant Cloathier sure, Whose fame forever shall endure.[9] The private life of Thomas Paycocke, no less than his business, can be made to live again.

Of his family the invaluable will tells us a little.