In Stripe's edition of Stow, 1721 (vol. i., b. 3, p. 542), speaking of St. Mary-le-Bow, it is stated that "The parish clerk's office, belonging to this church, was to ring the curfew bell; as it was to be rung at three other churches in London, at a pretty distance from each other. That, so this notice, all the curfew bells in other parishes might be rung in due season, viz., Barking Church, S. Bride's, and S. Giles's without Cripplegate." In the articles agreed upon and settled in 22 Henry VIII. (1531), for the guidance of the sexton of Faversham, we read: "Imprimis, the sexton, or his sufficient deputy, shall lye in the church steeple; and, at eight o'clock every night, shall ring the curfewe by the space of a quarter of an hour, with such bell as of old time hath been accustomed." In the Middle Ages, so much regard was paid to ringing the _couvre-feu_, that land was occasionally left to pay for it. This feeling appears to have been not altogether extinct, even so late as the close of the sixteenth century, for in Bishop Hall's "Fourth Satire" occurs the following: "Who ever gives a paire of velvet shooes To th' Holy Rood, or liberally allowes But a new rope to ring the _couvre-feu_ bell, But he desires that his great deed may dwell, Or graven in the chancel-window glasse, Or in his lasting tombe of plated brasse." In the churchwardens' and chamberlains' accounts of Kingston-on-Thames, occurs the following item: "1651. For ringing the curfew bell for one year L1 10." According to the Hon. Daines Barrington, curfew is written _curphour_ "in an old Scottish poem, published in 1770, with many others, from the MSS. of George Bannatyne, who collected them in the year 1568." It is observed in the notes which accompany these poems, that, by "Act 144, Parliament 13, James I., this bell was to be rung in boroughs at nine in the evening, and that the hour was afterwards changed to ten, at the solicitation of the wife of James VI.'s favourite, James Stewart." This lends some countenance to what might otherwise seem erroneous in the works of the poets and dramatists. Thus, in the old play of the _Merry Devil of Edmonton_ (1631), the sexton exclaims: "Well, 'tis nine a clocke, 'tis time to ring curfew." We fear, however, that Shakespeare cannot be held free from mistake and uncertainty in his fixing of the curfew hour. Thus, in _Measure for Measure_, the Duke says: "The best and wholesom'st spirits of the night Invellop you, good Provost! Who call'd here o' late? _Provost_: None since the curfew rang." In _The Tempest_, Prospero says: "You whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew." Again, in _Romeo and Juliet_, he seems to advance the time still further. Lord Capulet is made to say: "Come stir, stir, stir, the second cock hath crowed, The curphew bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock."