Stanzas CLXVI–CLXXIII

CLXVI
Item, I will they toll for me
The ' Belfry ' Bell, that is so great
Of voice, that all astonied be
When he is tolled, early or late.
Many a good city, of old date,
He saved, as every one doth know ;
Thunder or war, all ills abate
When through the land his voices go.

CLXVII
Four loaves the ringers' wage shall be :
If that's too little, six : (that is
What rich folk wont to give for fee :)
But they St. Stephen's loaves, ywis,
Shall be. Let Vollant share in this ;
A man that earns his living hard:
'Twill furnish forth a week of his.
The other one ? Jehan de la Garde.

CLXVIII
Item, to carry out this all,
As my executors I name
Men who are good to deal withal
And never shirk an honest claim :
They're no great vauntards, all the same,
Though they've good cause for it, perdie ;
They shall fulfil my thought and aim :
Write, I will name six names to thee.

CLXIX
First, Master Martin de Bellefaye,
The King's Lieutenant-criminel.
Who shall be next ? Whom shall I say ?
It shall be Messire Colombel :
If, as I think, it like him well,
He'll undertake this charge for me.
The third one ? Michel Jouvenel :
I give the office to these three.

CLXX
Natheless, in case they should excuse
Themselves therefrom, for fear of fees,
Or altogether should refuse,
I name as their successors these,
Good men and true in their degrees :
Philip Brunel, the noble squire,
For next, his neighbour (an he please),
Master Jacques Raguyer, I desire.

CLXXI
Master Jacques James shall be the third :
Three men of worth and good renown,
That for believers in God's Word
And right God-fearing souls are known ;
Far rather would they spend their own
Than not my full intent fulfil.
No auditor on them shall frown :
They shall do all at their own will.

CLXXII
The Register of Wills from me
Shall have nor quid nor quod, I trow :
But every penny of his fee
To Tricot, the young priest, shall go;
At whose expense gladly eno'
I'd drink, though it my nightcap cost :
If but he knew the dice to throw,
Of Perrette's Den I'd make him host.

CLXXIII
Guillaume du Ru, for funeral,
Shall see the chapel duly lit ;
And as to who shall bear the pall,
Let my executors order it.
And now, my body every whit
(Groin, eyebrows, hair and beard and all )
Being racked with pain, the time seems fit
To cry folk mercy, great and small.