It is the articles of Traillebaston;—except the king himself, may he have God’s curse—whoever first granted such a commission!—For there is little reason in any of the points of it.
Sire, if I wished to chastise my lad—with a slap or two, to amend him,—he will ask a bill against me, and will cause me to be arrested,—and to give a great ransom before I escape from prison.
Forty shillings they take for my ransom,—and the sheriff comes for his fee,—that he may not put me in deep prison.—Now consider, lords, is this right?
For this cause I will keep myself among the woods, in the beautiful shade;—where there is no falseness and no bad law;—in the wood of Beauregard, where the jay flies,—and where the nightingale sings always without ceasing.
But the bad idlers, on whom may God have no pity!—with their false mouths have indited me—of ill robberies and other delinquency,—so that I dare not be received among my friends.
I have served my lord the king in peace and in war,—in Flanders, Scotland, and his land of Gascony;—but now I do not know how to make any expedient for myself;—all my time I have spent in vain to please such a man.
If these wicked jurors will not amend,—that I may be able to ride and go at my peace,—if I can reach them I will make their heads fly off,—I would not give a penny for all their threats.
The Martin and the Knoville are people of piety,—and pray for the poor that they may have safety;—Spigurnel and Belflour are people of cruelty,—if they were in my keeping they should not be returned.
I would teach them the game of Trailebaston,—and would break their backbone and their crupper,—their arms and their legs, it would be but right,—I would cut their tongues and their mouths likewise.
He who first commenced these things,—never in his life will he be amended;—I tell you for truth, he has committed therein too great a sin,—for out of the fear of prison there will be many a robber made.