“Cry aloud to the working men and women of England: ‘You, who for ages cried out because the heel of your masters was heavy on you; and who have said, ‘We curse the kings that sit at ease, and care not who oppresses the folk, so their coffers be full and their bellies satisfied, and they be not troubled with the trouble of rule’; you, who have taken the king’s rule from him and sit enthroned within his seat; is his sin not yours today? If men should add but one hour to your day’s labour, or make but one fraction dearer the bread you eat, would you not rise up as one man? Yet, what is dealt out to men beyond seas whom you rule wounds you not. Nay, have you not sometimes said, as kings of old: ‘It matters not who holds out our sword, marauder or speculator, so he calls it ours, we must cloak up the evil it has done!’ Think you, no other curses rise to heaven but yours? Where is your sword? Into whose hand has it fallen? Take it quickly and cleanse it!’”

Peter Halket crouched, looking upwards; then he cried: “Master, I cannot give that message, I am a poor unlearn’d man. And if I should go to England and cry aloud, they would say, ‘Who is this, who comes preaching to a great people? Is not his mother with us, and a washerwoman; and was not his father a day labourer at two shillings a day?’ and they would laugh me to scorn. And, in truth, the message is so long I could not well remember it; give me other work to do.”