to the first honours of his beloved city of London, had become to
Nicholas Alwyn a hope and aspiration which made as much a part of his
being as glory to a warrior, power to a king, a Eureka to a scholar;
and, though more mechanically than with any sordid calculation or
self-seeking, Nicholas Alwyn repaired to his ware in the Chepe. The
streets, when he landed, already presented a different appearance from
the disorder and tumult noticeable when he had before passed them.
The citizens now had decided what course to adopt; and though the
shops, or rather booths, were carefully closed, streamers of silk,
cloth of arras and gold, were hung from the upper casements; the
balconies were crowded with holiday gazers; the fickle populace (the
same herd that had hooted the meek Henry when led to the Tower) were
now shouting, "A Warwick!" "A Clarence!" and pouring throng after
throng, to gaze upon the army, which, with the mayor and aldermen, had
already entered the city. Having seen to the security of his costly
goods, and praised his apprentices duly for their care of his
interests, and their abstinence from joining the crowd, Nicholas then
repaired to the upper story of his house, and set forth from his
casements and balcony the richest stuffs he possessed. However, there
was his own shrewd, sarcastic smile on his firm lips, as he said to
his apprentices, "When these are done with, lay them carefully by
against Edward of York's re-entry."

Meanwhile, preceded by trumpets, drums, and heralds, the Earl of
Warwick and his royal son-in-law rode into the shouting city. Behind
came the litter of the Duchess of Clarence, attended by the Earl of
Oxford, Lord Fitzhugh, the Lords Stanley and Shrewsbury, Sir Robert de
Lytton, and a princely cortege of knights, squires, and nobles; while,
file upon file, rank upon rank, followed the long march of the
unresisted armament.