Penn was a man of far more than the ordinary ability and wisdom in the customary affairs of life, but as his friend, James Logan, foresaw, from the contents of this will, which left such a large and varied estate to so many people to convey, with so little instructions regarding his intentions, it is not strange that litigation covering a period of nine years should have resulted from such a testament.[64] The searcher for the curious in testaments, will find wills in poetry as well as in prose, collated in Harris’ Ancient Wills. William Jackett, of the parish of St. Mary, Islington, died in 1789 and his will in the following form was admitted to probate: “I give and bequeath, When I’m laid underneath, To my two loving sisters most dear, The whole of my store, Were it twice as much more, Which God’s goodness has given me here. And that none may prevent This my will and intent, Or occasion the least of law-racket, With a solemn appeal I confirm, sign and seal This, the true act and deed of Will Jackett.”[65] William Hicklington, who dubbed himself, the Poet of Pocklington, penned his will in rhyme, in 1770, as follows: “Do give and bequeath, As free as I breathe, To thee, Mary Jarum, The Queen of my Harum, My cash and my cattle, With every chattel, To have and to hold, Come heat or come cold, _Sans_ hindrance or strife, Though thou art not my wife, As witness my hand, Just here as I stand, The twelfth of July, In the year seventy.”[66] Apropos this will, is the rhymed testament of the sacriligious Irishman, who, as the old books record, in this quatrain disposed of his earthly effects: “In the name of God, Amen: My featherbed to my wife Jen; Also my carpenter’s saw and hammer; Until she marries; then, God damn her.”[67] This, however, suggests the “Will in literature,” and in turning over the pages of the work above referred to, the “Lesser Testament,” of the plaintive poet, Francois Villon, who died in 1484, is not without interest. His gloves and silken hood are bequeathed to a friend in the following verse; “Item, my gloves and silken hood My friend Jacques Cardon, I declare, Shall have in fair free gift for good; Also the acorns willows bear And every day a capon fair Or goose; likewise a tenfold vat Of chalk-white wine, besides a pair Of Lawsuits, lest he wax too fat.” He desired his friends to record of him in his epitaph: “Acre or furrow had he none. ’Tis known his all he gave away; Bread, tables, tressels, all are gone, Gallants, of him this Roundel say.”[68]