The Trial of Chivalry (This Gallant Cavaliero Dick Bowyer) · chunk 19 of 38
Anonymous · published 1605 · first performed or written 1601 [1599-1604] (Annals) romance · Derby's (Strange's) Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.76 · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
A sorry argument to kill your friend. I must have better reason than your will, Or i'll not draw upon my Ferdinand: Our love is older than of one days growth, A years continuance hath united us. Have we not made an interchange of oaths, Sworn love to one another twenty times, Confirmed that friendship by society, Increased it with the sympathy of mind, Making one pleasure, pleasure unto both? And shall this bond be broken upon will? Then you'll not draw? Yes, nearer to thy person, In friendly sort to embrace thee, Ferdinand. Thou art a coward, and thou dar'st not fight. Thou know'st the contrary: for we have fought At every weapon, to approve our skill. Go to, you are a villain and a coward, And by the royal blood that gave me life, I'll kill thee, Pembroke, though thou do not draw. Kill me? thou wilt not wrong thine honour so? Zounds, but I will: & traitor, take thou that. Wound me so desperately? nay then i'll draw, Not to offend, but to defend myself. Now I perceive it is my blood thou seekst: Witness you heavens, and all you gracious powers, That stand auspicious to this enterprise, That Pembroke draws forth an unwilling sword. Why so, now manfully defend thyself. Another wound? then Pembroke, rouse thy spirit, And bear no longer with this harebrained man. Yet (Ferdinand) resolve me of the cause, That moves thee to this unkind enterprise: And if I satisfy thee not in words, This double wound shall please thee with my blood. Nay, with my sword I'll make a score of wounds, Rather than want of blood divorce thy love. I hate thee deadly, and I seek thy life: What other reason, Pembroke, wouldst thou have? Prepare, prepare, in this conflict to show, Thou art a Knight, and canst o'ercome thy foe. And if I spare thee not, impute the cause To thine own rashness, and mine aching wounds. I hope I have slain thee. Oh, I fear thy life: how fares my Ferdinand? What, liv'st thou yet? than my fare is ill. I am marked for death, I feel a general faintness through my limbs: Expense of blood will soon expend my life. The like debility my joints do feel. Then we must both die in the latest of death. Tell me, oh tell me, whence proceeds this hate? I fear not (Pembroke) to discover now. Thou wert my Spokesman unto Katharine, And treacherously thou stolest away her heart. Oh, I can say no more, my spirits do faint. Pembroke, farewell, I have revenged my wrong. Oh▪ yet a little longer, gracious time, Detain his princely spirit in his breast, That I may tell him he is misinformed, And purge myself unto my dying friend: But death hath laid his numb-cold hand upon me: I am arrested to depart this life. Dear Ferdinand, although thou be my death,
nodes 965–1028 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 19 of 38 in this edition
Length
487 words · 657 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.761 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T7 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
A ſorry argument to kill your friend. I muſt haue better reaſon then your will, Or ile not draw vpon my Ferdinand: Our loue is older then of one dayes growth, A yeres continuance hath vnited vs. Haue we not made an enterchange of othes, Sworne loue to one another twenty times, Confirmd that friendſhip by ſociety, Encreaſde it with the ſimpathy of mind, Making one pleaſure, pleaſure vnto both? And ſhall this bond be broken vpon will? Then youle not draw? Yes, neerer to thy perſon, In friendly ſort to imbrace thee, Ferdinand. Thou art a coward, and thou dar'ſt not fight. Thou knowſt the contrary: for we haue fought At euery weapon, to approue our skill. Goe to, you are a villayne and a coward, And by the royall bloud that gaue me life, Ile kill thee, Pembrooke, though thou do not draw. Kill me? thou wilt not wrong thine honour ſo? Zounds, but I will: & traitor, take thou that. Wound me ſo deſperately? nay then ile draw, Not to offend, but to defend my ſelfe. Now I perceyue it is my bloud thou ſeekſt: Witneſſe you heauens, and all you gracious powers, That ſtand auſpicious to this enterpriſe, That Pembrooke drawes forth an vnwilling ſword. Why ſo, now manfully defend thy ſelfe. Another woūd? then Pembrook, rowſe thy ſpirit, And beare no longer with this haire-braynd man. Yet (Ferdinand) reſolue me of the cauſe, That moues thee to this vnkind enterpriſe: And if I ſatiſfie thee not in words, This double wound ſhall pleaſe thee with my bloud. Nay, with my ſword Ile make a ſcore of wounds, Rather then want of bloud diuorce thy loue. I hate thee deadly, and I ſeeke thy life: What other reaſon, Pembrook, wouldſt thou haue? Prepare, prepare, in this conflict to ſhow, Thou art a Knight, and canſt o'recome thy foe. And if I ſpare thee not, impute the cauſe To thine owne raſhnes, and mine aking wounds. I hope I haue ſlayne thee. Oh, I feare thy life: how fares my Ferdinand? What, liu'ſt thou yet? then my fare is ill. I am markt for death, I feele a generall fayntneſſe through my lymmes: Expence of bloud will ſoone expend my life. The like debility my ioynts doe feele. Then we muſt both dye in the lateſt of death. Tell me, oh tell me, whence proceeds this hate? I feare not (Pembrooke) to diſcouer now. Thou wert my Spokeſ-man vnto Katharine, And treacherouſly thou ſtol'ſt away her heart. Oh, I can ſay no more, my ſpirits doe faynt. Pembrooke, farewell, I haue reueng'd my wrong. Oh▪ yet a little longer, gracious time, Detayne his princely ſpirit in his breſt, That I may tell him he is miſſe-inform'd, And purge my ſelfe vnto my dying friend: But death hath layd his num-cold hand vpon me: I am arreſted to depart this life. Deare Ferdinand, although thou be my death,