II.  BALLADES FROM FRANÇOIS VILLON

53

BALLAD CRYING ALL FOLK MERCY.

I.

FRERES, be they white or be they grey;
Nuns, mumpers, chanters awry that tread
And cling their patterns on each highway;
    Lackeys and handmaids, apparellèd
    In tight-fitting surcoats, white and red;
Gallants, whose boots o’er their ankles fall,
    That vaunt and ruffle it unadread;
I cry folk mercy, one and all.

II.

Wantons who all their charms display,
    That so more custom to them be led,
Brawlers and jugglers and tumblers gay;
    Clowns with their apes and carpet spread;
    Players that whistle for lustihead,
As they trudge it ’twixt village and town and hall;
    Gentle and simple, living and dead, —
I cry folk mercy, one and all.

III.

Save only the treacherous beasts of prey.
    That garred me batten on prison bread
And water, many a night and day.
    I fear them not now, no, not a shred;
54     And gladly (but that I lie a-bed
And have small stomach for strife or brawl)
    I’d have my wreak of them. Now, instead,
I cry folk mercy, one and all.

ENVOI.

So but the knaves be ribroastéd
    And basted well with an oaken maul
Or some stout horsewhip weighted with lead,
    I cry folk mercy, one and all.