The Trial of Chivalry (This Gallant Cavaliero Dick Bowyer) · chunk 21 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 · 466 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Well, I were best be going, now I am so fairly offered. Mistress, your reward hath stopped my tears, and enticed my legs to be walking. Farewell, I will go, God knows whither, to seek and to find both, and neither. Farewell, sweet Mistress. O Pembroke, let me kneel unto thy blood: And yet I know not whether't be thy blood, Save that my soul by a divine instinct, Tells me it is the treasure of thy veins. If thou be'st dead, thou mirror of all men, I vow to die with thee: this field, this grove Shall be my receptacle till my last: Content with that that feeds the airy souls, My pillow shall be made a bank of moss, And what I drink, the silver brook shall yield. No other camp nor Court will Katharine have, Till fates do limit her a common grave. Our daughter fled! when? whither? which way? how? I know not. Bellamira, my lives joy, Upon those pinionw that support her flight, Hovers my heart, you bear away my soul. Turn, turn again, and give this earthly frame Essential power, which for thine absence dies: Thou art the sweet of sweets, the joy of joys: For thee was Philip borne. O turn again, And Philip is the blessedest of men. We are glad she's gone, though we dissemble it. Son, bridle this affection, cease these laments, She did not value them. Lewes, she did, Till savage hate that shape disfigured. O, she was worthy to be Queen of heaven. Her beauty, ere it suffered violence, Was like the Sun in his Meridian Throne, Too splendent for weak eyes to gaze upon. she was too bright before, till being hid Under that envious cloud, it took the place Of a dark ground, to show a lovelier face. That Leprosy in her seemed perfect beauty: And she did . With virtue, which no foul calumnious breath Could ever soil, true virtues die is such, That malice cannot stain, nor envy touch. Then say not but her worth surmounts these woes. She grieved to tie you to a hated bed, And therefore followed Bourbon for revenge. Bourbon? who names him? that same verbal sound Is like a thunder clap to Philip's ears, Frighting my very soul. Sure, you said, Bourbon, And to that prodigy you joined revenge: Revenge, that like a shadow follows him. 'Twas he that made me bankrupt of all bliss, Sued the divorce of that pure white and red, Which decked my Bellamira's lovely cheeks: And shall he scape unpunished? join your hands, And all with us swear vengeance on the Duke. Not for the world: who prosecutes his hare On Bourbon, injures me: I am his foe, And none but I will work his overthrow. What means our son?
seed 43: T0 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Well, I were beſt bee going, now I am ſo fayrely offred. Miſtris, your reward hath ſtopt my teares, and entic'de my legges to be walking. Farewell, I will goe, God knowes whither, to ſeeke and to finde both, and neyther. Farewell, ſweet Miſtris. O Pembrooke, let me kneele vnto thy bloud: And yet I know not whether't be thy bloud, Saue that my ſoule by a diuine inſtinct, Tells me it is the treaſure of thy veynes. If thou beeſt dead, thou mirrour of all men, I vow to dye with thee: this field, this groue Shall be my receptacle till my laſt: Content with that that feeds the ayry ſoules, My pillow ſhall be made a banke of moſſe, And what I drinke, the ſiluer brooke ſhall yeeld. No other campe nor Court will Katharine haue, Till fates do limit her a common graue. Our daughter fled! whē? whither? which way? how? I know not. Bellamira, my liues ioy, Vpon thoſe pinnyons that ſupport her flight, Houers my heart, you beare away my ſoule. Turne, turne agayne, and giue this earthly frame Eſſentiall power, which for thine abſence dyes: Thou art the ſweet of ſweets, the ioy of ioyes: For thee was Philip borne. O turne agayne, And Philip is the bleſſedeſt of men. We are glad ſhe's gone, though we diſſemble it. Sonne, bridle this affection, ceaſe theſe laments, Shee did not value them. Lewes, ſhe did, Till ſauage hate that ſhape diſfigured. O, ſhe was worthy to be Queene of heauen. Her beauty, e're it ſuffred violence, Was like the Sunne in his Meridian Throne, Too ſplendant for weake eyes to gaze vpon. Shee was too bright before, till being hid Vnder that enuious cloud, it tooke the place Of a darke ground, to ſhow a louelyer face. That Leproſie in her ſeemd perfect beauty: And ſhe did . With vertue, which no calumnious breath Could euer ſoyle, true vertues dye is ſuch, That malice cannot ſtayne, nor enuy tuch. Then ſay not but her worth ſurmoūts theſe woes. She grieu'd to tye you to a hated bed, And therefore followed Burbon for reuenge. Burbon? who names him? that ſame verball ſound Is like a thunder clap to Philips eares, Frighting my very ſoule. Sure, you ſaid, Burbon, And to that prodegie you ioynd reuenge: Reuenge, that like a ſhaddow followes him. 'Twas he that made me bankrout of all bliſſe, Sude the diuorce of that pure white and red, Which deckt my Bellamiraes louely cheeks: And ſhall he ſcape vnpuniſht? Ioyne your hands, And all with vs ſweare vengeance on the Duke. Not for the world: who proſecutes his hare On Burbon, iniures me: I am his foe, And none but I will worke his ouerthrow. What meanes our ſonne?