LE GRAND TESTAMENT - XCIV-CXXVTHE TESTAMENT - XCIV-CXXV
François Villontr. Peter Dean
XCIV

Item, a maistre Ythier Marchant,
Auquel mon branc laissay jadiz,
Donne, mais qu'il le mecte en chant,
Ce lay contenant des vers dix,
Et au luz ung De profundiz
Pour ses ancïennes amours,
Desquelles le nom je ne diz,
Car il me hairoit a tousjours.


RONDEAU

Mort, j'appelle de ta rigueur,
Qui m'a ma maistresse ravie,
Et n'es pas encore assouvie,
Se tu ne me tiens en langueur.
Onc puis n'eus force ne vigueur;
Mais que te nuysoit elle en vie,
Mort?

Deux estions, et n'avions qu'ung cuer;
S'il est mort, force est que devie,
Voire, ou que je vive sans vie,
Comme les images, par cuer,
Mort!


XCV

Item, a maistre Jehan Cornu
Autre nouveau laiz lui vueil faire,
Car il m'a tousjours subvenu
A mon grant besoing et affaire.
Pour ce, le jardin lui transffaire
Que maistre Pierre Bobignon
M'arenta, en faisant reffaire
L'uys et redrecier le pignon.


XCVI

Par faulte d'ung huys g'y perdiz
Ung grez et ung manche de houe.
Alors, huit faucons, non pas dix,
N'y eussent pas prins une aloue:
L'ostel est seur, mais qu'on le cloue.
Pour enseigne y mis ung havet,
Qui que l'ait prins, point ne m'en loue:
Sanglante nuyt et bas chevet!


XCVII

Item, et pour ce que la femme
De maistre Piere Saint Amant
- Combien, se coulpe y a a l'ame,
Dieu luy pardonne doulcement! -
Me myt ou ranc de caÿmant,
Pour le Cheval Blanc qui ne bouge
Luy changë a une jument
Et la Mulle a ung asne rouge.


XCVIII

Item, donne a sire Denis
Hyncelin, esleu de Paris,
Quatorze muys de vins d'Aulnys
Prins sur Turgis a mes perilz;
S'il en buvoit tant que periz
En fust son sens et sa raison,
Qu'on mecte de l'eaue es bariz:
Vin pert mainte bonne maison.


XCIX

Item, donne a mon advocat,
Maistre Guillaume Charüau,
Quoy? que Marchant ot pour estat,
Mon branc; je me taiz du fourreau.
Il aura avec ce ung reau
En change, affin que sa bource enffle,
Prins sur la chaussee et carreau
De la grant costure du Temple.


C

Item, mon procureur Fournier
Aura pour toutes ses corvees
- Simple sera de l'espargnier -
En ma bource quatre havees,
Car maintes causes m'a saulvees,
Justes, ainsi Jhesuchrist m'aide;
Comme telles se sont trouvees,
Mais bon droit a bon mestier d'aide.


CI

Item, je donne a maistre Jacques
Raguier le Grand Godet de Greve,
Pourveu qu'il paiera quatre placques,
Deust il vendre, quoy qu'il luy griesve,
Ce dont on coeuvre mol et greve,
Aler nues jambes, en chappin,
Se sans moy boyt, assiet ne lieve
Au trou de la Pomme de Pin.


CII

Item, quant est de Merebuef
Et de Nicolas de Louviers,
Vache ne leur donne ne beuf,
Car vachiers ne sont bouviers,
Mais gans a porter espreviers
Ne cuidez pas que je me joue,
Et pour prendre perdrys, ploviers,
Sans faillir ... sur la Machecoue.


CIII

Item, viengne Robert Turgis
A moy, je luy paieray son vin;
Combien, s'il treuve mon logis,
Plus fort fera que le devin.
Le droit luy donne d'eschevin
Que j'ay comme enffant de Paris.
Se je parle ung poy poictevin,
Ice m'ont deux dames apris.


CIV

Illes sont tres belles et gentes,
Demourans a Saint Generou
Prez Saint Julïen de Voventes,
Marche de Bretaigne a Poictou.
Mais i ne di proprment ou
Yquelles pensent tous les jours;
M'arme ! i ne suy moy si treffou,
Car i vueil celer mes amours.


CV

Item, a Jehan Raguier je donne,
Qui est sergent, voire des Douze,
Tant qu'il vivra, ainsi l'ordonne,
Tous les jours une tallemouze
Pour boutter et fourrer sa mouse,
Prinse a la table de Bailly;
A Maubué sa gorge arrouse,
Car au mengier n'a pas failly.


CVI

Item, et au Prince des Sotz
Pour ung bon sot Michault du Four,
Qui a la foyz dit de bons motz
Et chante bien "Ma doulce amour",
Je lui donne, avec le bon jour;
Brief, mais qu'il fust ung peu en point,
Il est ung droit sot de sejour
Et est plaisant ou il n'est point.


CVII

Item, aux Unze Vingts sergens
Donne - car leur fait est honneste
Et sont bonnes et doulces gens
Denis Richier et Jehan Valecte -
A chascun une grant cornecte
Pour pendre a leurs chappeaux de faultres,
J'entens a ceulx a pié, hohecte!
Car je n'ay que faire des autres.


CVIII

De rechief donne a Perrenet,
J'entens le bastart de la Barre,
Pource qu'il est beau filz et net,
En son escu, en lieu de barre,
Trois dez plombez de bonne quarre
Et ung beau joly jeu de cartes.
Mais quoy! s'on l'ot vecir ne poire,
En oultre aura les fievres quartes.


CIX

Item, ne vueil plus que Chollet
Dolle, trenche douve ne boise,
Relie broc ne tonnelet,
Mais tous ses houstiz changer voise
A une espee lïonnoise,
Et retiengne le hutinet:
Combien qu'il n'ayme bruyt ne noise,
Sy lui plaist il ung tantinet.


XCIV

Item; to Ythier Marchant whom
I left my sword some time ago,
I give, so long as he finds room
to set to music, this rondeau
of ten lines. And a De Profundis
for lute in honour of old flames
of whom, since he’s my heir in this,
I kindly will forget the names.


RONDEAU

Death I protest against your rigour
which rips my mistress from my arms
and, still unsatisfied, alarms
and shakes my wasted figure,
which has but little force or vigour:
but how from her in life came harms,
Death?

Though two we were, we’d nothing bigger
than our one heart to live in: and no balms
arise for me if it is dead: no calms
unless as lifeless image I refigure,
Death!


XCV

Item; to John Cornu I’m pleased
to leave another legacy.
He always helped me out and eased
my burden, saw to my affairs, so he
receives the garden that I rented
from Peter Boubigny who needs
the doorway fixed to be contented;
also the gable-end with new reeds.


XCVI

Through fault of that doorway I lost
a hoe-shaft and a paving ridgeon.
Since then, as I know to my cost,
eight, nay ten, hawks can’t catch a pigeon!
The shack’s quite safe - but if you nail it!
I put a hook up for a sign:
he who nicked that won’t ever sell it -
hard bloody night will suit him fine!


XCVII

Item: and given that it was the wife
of master Peter St. Amant
(if she’s to blame then may her life
and soul most tenderly God pardon)
reduced me to the rank of beggar,
I’ll swap the White Horse which won’t do
for its tame twin and also beg her -
take for the Mule a hot billet-doux!


XCVIII

Item: Sir Denis Hesseline,
who holds the post Elector of Paris,
gets fourteen butts of Aulins wine,
raised at a risk to me on Turgis.
If he should lose both sense and wits
by having too much to carouse,
water the barrels, where it fits:
wine is the loss of many a good house.


XCIX

Item: I leave my advocate,
one master William Charruau,
my sword ... (I’ve nothing to relate
about the sheath) though I did owe
it Marchant earlier. With it there’s
a sou or so to swell his purse,
picked on the pavement or the squares
belonging to the Templars. Could be worse!


C

Item: to Fournier my attorney -
he’ll have for all his drudge and fag
(it’ll be cheap to spare his journey)
four handfuls taken from my bag,
since often he’s kept me free and sound;
justly, of course - through Jesus Christ it’s done,
as many others too have found:
on good attorneys shines the sun.


CI

Item: I give to master Jack
Raguier The Great Gobbet at Greve,
on condition that he pays back
four plackets. And that too will leave
him sad, having to sell fine leather neat!
So hoseless and in pumps he’ll spin
if he won’t drink or take a seat
with me in that dump, the Pine Cone Inn.


CII

Item: I give no bull nor cow
to Merbeuf or to Nicolas
de Louviers for they don’t know how
to keep them, more the type, alas,
of gentlemen who carry hawks
(don’t get the idea I’m fooling you)
for taking partridge without squawks
at the home of Madame Machecoue.


CIII

Item, when Robin Turgis comes
to me I’ll pay him for his wine:
if he can find me then it’s thumbs
up for his nose - he’s a divine!
He has to have the rights I give
of vagabond, being Paris-bred.
If my tongue now sounds primitive
two ladies put that in my head.


CIV

They are both beautiful and kind,
in residence at St. Gennou,
near St. Julien de Viventes, you’ll find,
the border of Bretagne-Poitou.
But ‘oi won’t tell ‘ee zackly where
they do be passin’ toime o’ day.
‘Strewth! ‘Oim not such a booby bear:
‘oi’ll keep my lovers ‘idden away!


CV

Item, to John Reguier I give,
(Sergeant of Twelve, no less, is he)
on order for him while he live,
each day a souffle, nice and cheesy
to fill his gob and keep him quiet
and eaten straight from Bailly’s table:
and at Maubue’s his appetite
should rise - at scoffing he’s most able.


CVI

Item, the Prince of Fools I leave,
as good a fool, Michael du Four,
who cracks a good joke and, I believe,
sings My Sweet Love in voice most pure.
I make him his and give good-day:
but just to bring him into line,
he’s a right idiot in his way
and when not trying he is fine.


CVII

Item, because their work’s so honest
I give to Sergeants of the Two-Twenty
who’re such good blokes, gentler than the rest,
Denis Richier, John Vallette (and that’s plenty),
there goes a velvet band for each
to hang down from their velvet caps:
it’s those on foot that I would reach
since I’ve not met the other chaps.


CVIII

I give to Perrenet again -
the Bastard of the Bar I mean -
because he is the best of men,
upon his shield, where there is seen
a bar sinister, now should show
a pack of cards and three loaded dice,
then, should one hear him fart but low,
he’ll get the quartern fever, twice!


CIX

Item, I would that Cholet would
slice, dovetail, groove and gouge no more,
repairing casks and hoops of wood
and change all his utensils for
a sharp and shining Lyons blade:
his cooper’s mallet he may keep
for, though all noise he like to evade,
a bit of knocking pleases him a heap.


CX

Item, je donne a Jehan le Lou,
Homme de bien et bon merchant,
Pource qu'il est linget et flou
Et que Cholet est mal serchant
Ung beau petit chiennet couchant,
Qu'il ne laira poulaille en voye.
Le long tabart est bien cachant
Pour les mucer, qu'on ne les voye.


CXI

Item, a l'Orfevre de Boys
Donne cent clouz, queues et testes,
De gingembre sarrazionys,
Non pas pour accouppler ses boictes,
Mais pour joindre cuz et couëctes
Et couldre jambons et andoulles,
Tant que le let en monte aux tectes
Et le sang en devalle aux coulles.


CXII

Au cappitaine Jehan Riou,
Tant pour lui que pour ses archiers,
Je donne six hures de lou,
Qui n'est pas vïande a porchiers,
Prins a groz matins de bouchiers
Et cuictes en vin de buffet;
Pour manger de ces morceaulx chiers,
On en feroit bien ung mauffait.


CXIII

C'est vïande ung peu plus pesante
Que duvet n'est, plume ne liege;
Elle est bonne a porter en tante
Ou pour user en quelque siege.
S'ilz estoiënt prins en un piege,
Que ces matins ne seussent courre,
J'ordonne, moy qui suis son miege,
Que des peaulx sur l'iver se fourre.


CXIV

Item, a Robinet Trouscaille,
Qui en service, c'est bien fait,
A pié ne va comme une caille
Mais sur roncin gras et reffait,
Je lui donne de mon buffet
une jacte, qu'emprunter n'ose;
Sy aura mesnage parfait,
Plus ne lui failloit autre chose.


CXV

Item, donne a Perrot Girard,
Barbier juré du Bourg la Royne,
Deux bacins et ung cocquemart,
Puis qu'a gaignier mect telle peine.
Des ans y a demye douzaine
Qu'en son hostel de cochons gras
M'apatella une sepmaine,
Tesmoing l'abesse de Pourras.


CXVI

Item, aux Freres mendïans,
Aux Devotes et aux Beguines,
Tant de Paris que d'Orleans,
Tant Turlupins que Turlupines
De graces souppes jacoppines
Et flans leur faiz oblacïon;
Et puis aprés, soubz ces courtines,
Parler de contemplacïon.


CXVII

Ce ne suis je pas qui leur donne,
Mais de tous enffans sont les meres,
Et Dieu, qui ainsi les guerdonne,
Pour quy seuffrent peines ameres.
Il faut qu'il vivent, les beaulx peres,
Et mesmement ceulx de Paris,
S'ilz font plaisir a noz commeres,
Ilz ayment ainsi leurs marys.


CXVIII

Quoy que maistre Jehan de Poullieu
En voulsist dire et relicqua,
Contraint et en publicque lieu
Honteusement s'en revocqua.
Maistre Jehan de Meun s'en mocqua
De leur façon si fist Mathieu;
Mais on doit honnorer ce qu'a
Honnoré l'Eglise de Dieu.


CX

Item, I give to John le Lou,
a good man with an eye for a snip,
since he’s rake-thin and feeble too
and for Cholet’s hunts can’t make the trip,
a little spaniel, trained to heel,
who’ll not lose sight of any duck,
and a long cloak in which he’ll feel
able to bear them off, with luck.


CXI

Item, the Woodsmith I shall give
a hundred roots with heads and tails
of Muslem ginger, not to live
safe in a box but so it fails
not to join cocks and cunts, perhaps
together, welding thighs with groins,
so causing milk to mount to paps
and making blood surge down to loins.


CXII

And as to Captain John Riou,
he gets what his six archers get,
that is, six wolf-heads, not a stew
of meat that’s fit for pigs, but yet
was taken from the butcher’s mutts
and simmered in a cooking wine.
Just one taste of these primest cuts
would send a man into decline.


CXIII

It’s heavier, this kind of meat,
than feathers, down, or cork, yet fit
to take into your tent to eat
or, during siege, maybe use it.
If they were taken in a pit,
these hounds, from which they couldn’t leap,
the doctor orders in his wit
these skins, cooked, all winter would them keep.


CXIV

Item, to Robinet Trescaille,
who’s well set-up in his position,
never has to go on foot like quail
but rides a sturdy cob in fine condition,
I give him of my own preserve
a dish he’d never dare to waste.
A perfect household you deserve?
There’s always one thing more to taste.


CXV

Item, I give Perrot Girart,
licensed barber of Bourg la Reine,
two basins and a rounded jar
in earning which cost him such pain.
About six years ago I suppose
he stuffed me eyeball-full, I swear,
with greasy pork down in his close.
Ask Abbess Pourras - she was there.


CXVI

Item, to the begging Brothers,
Daughters of God and the Beguines
of Paris and Orleans and others -
male and female Tulipines -
I make oblation in their favour
of hearty Jacobin stews and that,
then afterwards, and under cover
of meditation, they may chat.


CXVII

If it’s not I who should provide
but down to all children with their mums -
and God, who’s thus their source and guide,
from whom their bitterest suffering comes -
then they must live, the fathers-in-law,
especially the Parisian ones:
they make our women ask for more
and thus their husbands happy sons.


CXVIII

Though John de Poullieu wished to say
"Et reliquas" on this in the courts,
contrite, in public light of day,
shame is - he gave it second thoughts.
And John de Meun, too, had a go
against their trickery; as Matthew did.
You’ve got to pay your own respects though
to what God’s Holy Church included.


CXIX

Sy me soubzmectz, leur serviteur
Et tout ce que puis faire et dire,
A les honnorer de bon cueur
Et obeïr sans contredire.
L'omme bien fol est d'en mesdire,
Car soit a part ou en prescher
Ou ailleurs, il ne fault pas dire,
Ces gens sont pour eulx revanchier.


CXX

Item, je donne a frere Baude,
Demourant en l'ostel des Carmes,
Portant chierre hardie et baude,
Une sallade et deux guisarmes,
Que Detusca et ses gens d'armes
Ne lui riblent sa caige vert;
Viel est : s'il ne se rent aux armes,
C'est bien le deable de Vauvert.


CXXI

Item, pour ce que le seelleur
Maint estront de mouche a machié,
Donne, car homme est de valleur,
Son seau d'avantaige crachié,
Et qu'il ait le poulce escachié
Pour tout empreindre a une voye;
J'entens celuy de l'Eveschié,
Car les autres, Dieu les pourvoye!


CXIX

I could become their slave, submit,
in all that I may do and say,
and honour them without reserve,
obey without the right of nay;
yet mad is he who ups and criticises
for, whether by preaching or elsewhere,
in speaking out he’ll win no prizes
and there are those who’ll pay him back out there.


CXX

Item, I give to Brother Baude,
He who lives in the Carmelite dorm
and put the hard-man act on - fraud! -
a helmet and two pikes to form
a guard against Tusca and his muscle,
so they don’t tickle his rib-cage.
He’s old: if his blade still will hustle
he’s the Vauvert devil of the age!


CXXI

Item, the Keeper of the Seal,
having chewed over so much wax
and being so worthy, I reveal
his seal which now no spittle lacks;
and, should he have his right thumb crushed,
he’ll be well fixed for imprinting in one throw.
This for the Bishop’s Guard I’ve rushed:
may God supply the rest just so!


CXXII

Quant des auditeurs messeigneurs,
Leur granche ilz auront lambroissee,
Et ceulx qui ont les culz rongneux,
Chacun une chaize persee,
Mais qu'a la petite Macee
D'Orleans, qui ot ma seinture,
L'amende en soit bien hault tauxee,
Elle est une mauvaise ordure.


CXXIII

Item, donne a maistre Françoys,
Promocteur, de la Vacquerie,
Ung hault gorgerin d'Escossoys,
Toutefoys sans orfaverie,
Car, quant receut chevallerye,
Il maugrea Dieu et saint George
- Parler n'en oit qui ne s'en rie -
Comme enragié, a plaine gorge.


CXXIV

Item, a maistre Jehan Laurens,
Qui a les povres yeulx si rouges
Pour le pechié de ses parens
Qui boivent en baris et courges,
Je donne l'envers de mes bouges
Pour tous les matins les torchier;
S'il fust arcevesque de Bourges,
Du cendail eust, mais il est cher.


CXXV

Item, a maistre Jehan Cotart,
Mon procureur en court d'Eglise,
Devoye environ ung patart,
- Car a present bien m'en advise -
Quant chicaner me feist Denise,
Disant que l'avoye mauldicte.
Pour son ame, qu'es cieulx soit mise,
Ceste orroison j'ay cy escripte.
CXXII

As for the eminent auditors,
whose granges, no doubt, are well-lined,
may each one of the scab-arsed sitters
a chair, with holes appropriate, find.
But most of all I hope sweet May,
that Orleans tart who stole my kit,
gets squeezed for the highest tax she can pay:
make no mistake - she is a shit.


CXXIII

Item, I give to master Frank,
promoter of the Vacquerie,
a long high Scottish neckpiece - bank
on it, it’ll have no nick-nackery!
For when he got his spurs he cursed
God and he cursed St. George as well.
Anyone who hears laughs fit to burst
a gut or gets as mad as hell.


CXXIV

Item, to master John Laurens,
whose poor eyes have been made quite red
by that same sin - intemperance -
his folks had: barrels and casks dry bled!
I give him the linings from my bags
to mop them down with every day:
Bourges’ archbishop’s may be silk, the snag’s
that that’s expensive and I can’t pay.


CXXV

Item, to master John Cotart,
my proxy in the Church’s Court,
I owe the value of a far-
thing (as I’ve just myself bethought)
from when Denise had me hauled up
for having slandered her, she said:
I’ve written this prayer to be called up
to heaven for his soul now he is dead.

Trans. Copyright © Peter Dean 2003


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