The Trial of Chivalry (This Gallant Cavaliero Dick Bowyer) · chunk 20 of 38
Anonymous · published 1605 · first performed or written 1601 [1599-1604] (Annals) romance · Derby's (Strange's) Men unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
How full of pleasure is this Forest life! My Park I liken to a Common wealth, In which, my Bucks and Does are Citizens: The Hunter's Lodge, the Court, from whence is sent Sentence of life or death, as please the King: Only our government's a tyranny, In that we kill our subjects upon sport. But stay, what Gentlemen do here lie slain? If any spark of life do yet remain, I'll help to fan it with a nimble hands The Organ of his arm doth play apace, He is not so far spent, but that with help, He may recover to his former state. How is the other? I do feel soft-breath Break from between his lips. Oh, for some aid, To bear them to the Forest, to my Lodge: But as I am, i'll try my utmost strength, To save their lives: first seen, shall be the first: Patience, and i'll return and fetch the other. My angle-rod is broke, my sport is done; But I will fetch my net, to catch some fish: To lose both fish and pleasure, is too much. Oh what contentment lives there in the brook! What pretty trames are made by cunning hands, To entrap the wily watery Citizens! But what art thou that liest upon the ground? Sleepest thou? or art thou slain? hath breath his last? No spark of life appears: yet from his eye, methinks I see a glimmering light break-forth, Which wanting strength, is like a twilight glimpse. If there be any hope to save his life, I'll try my utmost cunning, To my house, Poor Gentleman, I'll bear thee as a guest, And either cure thy wounds, or make thy grave. just in this circle I left the two Princes ready to draw; for I read the whole discourse of the Combat in their red eyes. Here lie their weapons, and here flows their blood. Have they not slain one another, and buried themselves? Peace, fool, 'tis too sure, that they are slain. O Lord, then let me turn myself into a Ballad, and mourn for them. Thou anger'st me, with jesting at my sorrow: Hence from my sight, my heart is full of grief, And it will break, the burden is so great. Go from your sight? then let me go out of your company: for I had as lief leave your sight as your company. Is this my reward for watching and watching? Oh Mistress, do not kill me with unkindness: I shall, I shall— What shall you? Weep out mine eyes, and fill the holes with salt water. I prithee leave me, I am not displeased, But fain would vent my sorrow from my heart. Hold, take my purse, spend that, and leave my presence: Go everywhere, inquire my Pembroke out: And if thou bringst meto his breathless trunk. I will reward thee with a treble gift.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
How full of pleaſure is this Forreſt life! My Parke I liken to a Common wealth, In which, my Bucks and Does are Citizens: The Hunters Lodge, the Court, from whence is ſent Sentence of life or death, as pleaſe the King: Onely our gouernment's a tyranny, In that wee kill our ſubiects vpon ſport. But ſtay, what Gentlemen doe heere lye ſlayne? If any ſparke of life doe yet remayne, Ile helpe to fanne it with a nymble hands The Organ of his arme doth play apace, He is not ſo far ſpent, but that with helpe, He may recouer to his former ſtate. How is the other? I doe feele ſoft-breath Breake from between his lips. Oh, for ſome ayd, To beare them to the Forreſt, to my Lodge: But as I am, ile try my vtmoſt ſtrength, To ſaue their liues: firit ſeene, ſhall be the firſt: Patience, and ile returne and fetch the other. My angle-rod is broke, my ſport is done; But I will fetch my net, to catch ſome fiſh: To loſe both fiſh and pleaſure, is too much. Oh what contentment liues there in the brooke! What prety trames are made by cunning hands, To intrap the wily watry Citizens! But what art thou that lyeſt vpon the ground? Sleepſt thou? or art thou ſlaine? hath breath his laſt? No ſparke of life appeares: yet from his eye, Me thinks I ſee a glymmering light breakeforth, Which wanting ſtrength, is like a twilight glimſe. If there be any hope to ſaue his life, Ile try my vtmoſt cunning, To my houſe, Poore Gentleman, Ile beare thee as a gheſt, And eyther cure thy wounds, or make thy graue. Iuſt in this circle I left the two Princes ready to draw; for I read the whole diſcourſe of the Combate in their red eyes. Heere lye their weapons, and heere flowes their bloud. Haue they not ſlayne one another, and buryed themſelues? Peace, foole▪ tis too ſure, that they are ſlayne. O Lord, then let mee turne my ſelfe into a Ballad, and mourne for them. Thou angreſt me, with ieſting at my ſorrow: Hence from my ſight, my heart is full of griefe, And it will breake, the burthen is ſo great. Goe from your ſight? then let me goe out of your company: for I had as leeue leaue your ſight as your company. Is this my reward for watching and watching? Oh Miſtris, doe not kill mee with vnkindneſſe: I ſhall, I ſhall— What ſhall you? Weepe out mine eyes, and fill the holes with ſalt water. I prythee leaue me, I am not diſpleaſd, But fayne would vent my ſorrowe from my heart. Hold, take my purſe, ſpend that, and leaue my preſence: Go euery where, enquire my Pembrooke out: And if thou bringſt meto his breathleſſe truncke. I will reward thee with a treble gift.