The Trial of Chivalry (This Gallant Cavaliero Dick Bowyer) · chunk 3 of 38
Anonymous · published 1605 · first performed or written 1601 [1599-1604] (Annals) romance · Derby's (Strange's) Men T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.80 · 519 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Peter de Lions is your Lordship's servant, A boon companion, and a lusty Knave: He is in love with Bellamira's maid, And by that love he may bestead your Highness, More than your best friends in your best designs. Call him forth. What Peter. Here, my Lord. Why dost thou look so wildly? Not with drink, nor yet with rage. His looks are wild with love. With love surreverence? can there be a face In all the world patched up with eyes and lips, A forehead, and a pair of Crimson cheeks, To make me do at on, to make me look wild? Come, come, 'tis known that you love Thomasin. Zounds, they that know that, know my heart & all, I have not the power to deny it, 'tis most true. And 'tis most true that I love Bellamira: Now if thou art in favour of thy wench, Many a meeting thou mayst help me to, And learn besides what suitors seek her love, And whom she most affects. These things once known, 'twere worth a Dukedom, Peter. 'sblood, give me a Dukedom, and i'll warrant you The knowledge of these things ten times o'er. There's Angels for thee, Peter, think on them, And do thy best to help thy master's love. Well, howsoever I smooth it to the Duke, My thoughts are bent on his destruction. You have my heart in your purse, i'll do any thing for you. And thou shalt want no gold, & so farewell. I cannot choose but farewell, and have the good Angels to comfort me; yet I am melancholy. here's gold to make me merry: O but (heigh ho) here's love to make me sad. To avoid prolixity, I am crossed with a Suitor, that wants a piece of his tongue, and that makes him come lisping home: they call him Cavaliero Bowyer, he will have no nay, but the wench. By these hilts, such another swashbuckler lives not in the nine quarters of the world: why, he came over with the Earl of Pembroke; and he limps, and he limps, & he devours more French ground at two paces, than will serve Thomasin at nineteen. If ever he speak French, to avoid prolixity, he will murder the tongue. I'll provide for him, there's but small choice, either he shall renounce the wench, or forsake his lame legs, his lisping tongue, and his life to: for by S. Denis, I had rather die in a ditch, then be bobbed of my fair Thomasin. Whither goes royal Philip thus prepared? On what adventure goes Prince Ferdinand? To conquer all the world, fair Katharine, Whose beauty in mine eye surmounts it far. Virtue and love conducts me to your sister. On the like voyage are my fortunes bound, I go to win thy sister. Some fair Star, On our great hopes shine fair and debonair. Amen, sayth Pembroke. Amen, sayth Roderick. This way my Love dwells. In this air breathes mine. Farewell. Prince Ferdinand, if these cross loves Enjoy a wished success, peace here shall dwell. And we be friendly Brothers. True. Farewell.
seed 43: T0 · seed 44: T0 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Peter de Lions is your Lordſhips ſeruant, A boone companion, and a luſty Knaue: He is in loue with Bellamiraes mayd, And by that loue he may beſtead your Highneſſe, More then your beſt friends in your beſt deſignes. Call him forth. What Peter. Here, my Lord. Why doſt thou looke ſo wildly? Not with drinke, nor yet with rage. His lookes are wild with loue. With loue ſurreuerence? can there be a face In all the world patcht vp with eyes and lips, A forhead, and a payre of Crimſon cheeks, To make me do at on, to make me looke wild? Come, come, tis knowne that you loue Thomaſin. Zounds, they that know that, know my heart & all, I haue not the power to deny it, tis moſt true. And tis moſt true that I loue Bellamira: Now if thou art in fauour of thy wench, Many a meeting thou mayſt helpe me to, And learne beſides what ſutors ſeeke her loue, And whom ſhe moſt affects. Theſe things once knowne, Twere worth a Dukedome, Peter. Sbloud, giue me a Dukedome, and ile warrant you The knowledge of theſe things ten times o're. Theres Angels for thee, Peter, thinke on them, And doe thy beſt to helpe thy maſters loue. Well, howſoeuer I ſmooth it to the Duke, My thoughts are bent on his deſtruction. You haue my heart in your purſe, ile doe any thing for you. And thou ſhalt want no gold, & ſo farwel. I cannot chuſe but farewell, and haue the good Angels to comfort me; yet I am melancholy. Heeres gold to make me merry: O but (hey ho) heres loue to make me ſad. To auoyd prolixity, I am croſt with a Sutor, that wants a piece of his toung, and that makes him come liſping home: they call him Caualiero Bowyer, he will haue no nay, but the wench. By theſe hilts, ſuch another ſwaſh-Buckler liues not in the nyne quarters of the world: why, he came ouer with the Earle of Pembrooke; and he limps, and he limps, & he deuoures more French ground at two paces, thē will ſerue Thomaſin at nineteene. If euer he ſpeake French, to auoyd prolixity, he will murder the toung. Ile prouide for him, theres but ſmall choice, either he ſhall renounce the wēch, or forſake his lame legs, his liſping toung, and his life to: for by S. Denis, I had rather dye in a ditch, then be bobd of my fayre Thomaſin. Whither goes royall Philip thus prepar'd? On what aduenture goes Prince Ferdinand? To conquer all the world, fayre Katharine, Whoſe beauty in mine eye ſurmounts it far. Vertue and loue conducts me to your ſiſter. On the like voyage are my fortunes bound, I goe to winne thy ſiſter. Some fayre Starre, On our great hopes ſhine fayre and debonaire. Amen, ſayth Pembrocke. Amen, ſayth Rodoricke. This way my Loue dwels. In this ayre breathes mine. Farewell. Prince Ferdinand, if theſe croſſe loues Enioy a wiſht ſucceſſe, peace here ſhall dwell. And we be friendly Brothers. True. Farewell.