For there was no more going back to work on a day like this.
"To the front, clubs, and lead the way," shouted I, with what voice was left me.
It was enough for the lads without Temple Bar.

They closed on me with a cheer, and followed me at the run, past the gaping Court ushers, past the royal jockeys, past the Queen herself (Heaven bless her!) past Lord Mayor, Sheriffs, and yapping beagles, through the echoing gates of Temple Bar, till we stood at the head of the procession, and longed, with a mighty longing, that someone might dispute the way with us.
But we had no work for our clubs that morning.

As we moved forward, our body, like a growing snowball, was swelled by the 'prentices of each ward, shouting as lustily as we, "Make way!" and hurling defiance, like us, on all the Queen's foes by land and by sea.

Even the gay sparks of the Temple gave us no handle for a sally, for they shouted with the best of us.
And so, down Fleet Street and in at the Ludgate, past the square tower of Saint Paul's, and along merry Cheap, we passed; our numbers swelling at every step, till it seemed as if all London was out escorting her Majesty through the city.

As you passed below Bow Church you could scarcely hear the clanging of the bells for the shouting of the people.
At the New Exchange there was like to be a battle at last.