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Painted women, the refuse of Lewkner Lane and Whetstone Park, passed themselves on him for countesses and maids of honour. If he asked his way to Saint James's, his informants sent him to Mile End. If he went into a shop, he was instantly discerned to be a fit purchaser of everything that nobody else would buy, of second-hand embroidery, copper rings, and watches that would not go.

The above letter is undated, but the sequel to the story is related by the Lieutenant himself in the minutes of a letter to the Council. "Please it your Grace and my Lords to be advertised that this present Sunday, the 6th September, Edward Lewkner, prisoner, attainted by long sickness, departed this transitory life to God, about the hour of eight of the clock of the night.

He died the next year, the heretics said, of remorse for what he had done against the reformed religion. Edward Lewkner, who according to Machyn's Diary had been groom-porter to Edward VI. and Mary, "was cast to suffer death" in the third year of Mary's reign for participation in the Dudley conspiracy.

"Right Worshipful, After my hearty commendations these shall be to certify your Mastership that where your charity was declared in that it pleased you to take pains to declare by your wise and discreet letters the piteous state of Lewkner, your prisoner, I was thereby the more ready and yet not wanting the counsel of a counseller to move the Queen's goodness in the matter.

Painted women, the refuse of Lewkner Lane and Whetstone Park, passed themselves on him for countesses and maids of honour. If he asked his way to St. James', his informants sent him to Mile End. If he went into a shop, he was instantly discerned to be a fit purchaser of everything that nobody else would buy, of second-hand embroidery, copper rings, and watches that would not go.

A hoarse roar of laughter from all the company answered it, and flushed faces craned over each other to catch a glimpse of the veteran. "There's Buckhorse!" they cried. "Buckhorse is comin' round again." "You can laugh if you vill, masters," he cried, in his Lewkner Lane dialect, holding up his two thin, vein-covered hands.