The Trial of Chivalry (This Gallant Cavaliero Dick Bowyer) · chunk 23 of 38
Anonymous · published 1605 · first performed or written 1601 [1599-1604] (Annals) romance · Derby's (Strange's) Men unassigned nearest T10 England and France: war, embassy and pea · 510 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
He did a deed of merit and of fame, Poisoned the Sister of a ravisher, A Tarquin, an incestuous Tereus, And our poor Child the wronged Philomell: arraign our Battles straight, and join with Bourbon. Hear what we'll urge. Speak then in war and death: In other terms, out rage will spend no breath. And we will speak so loud, that heaven itself Shall echo with the clangor: both our children we'll raze from our remembrance, and advance No other thought, but how to plague proud France. Conjoin with Bourbon, ere three Suns shall set, In the vast Kingdom of Oreanus: In a pitched field we'll meet the King of France, And that false Traitor Duke. Navarre, thou dar'st not. Now by Saint Denis, and our grandsire's tomb, we'll meet thee. Welcome. O, bring valiant men. we'll think on nought but graves & tombs till then. Ha, ha: I laugh to see these Kings at jar. Now civil discord like a raging flood, Swelling above her banks, shall drown this land, Whilst Rodorick on her ruins builds his hopes. The King of France through my suggestion, Thinks Katharine his daughter ravished, Who only winged with love, is fled the Camp: Pembroke and Ferdinand, in mutual strife, Slain by each other, doth confirm my words▪ And for revenge whets keen the two Kings swords. I thank thee, forester, whose rough grown walks, Wild in aspect, afford more courtesy, Than places smother for civility. My life redeemed by thy industrious hand, Remains in love and duty bound to thee. Fair Knight, prevention of sad death, by health, More joys my soul, than thanks or rich reward. But is your armour easy? sits it well? I never in my life was better fitted. This should be that unlucky fatal place, Where causeless hate drew blood from Ferdinand. Behold the grass, a purple register, Still blusheth in remembrance of our fight. Why wither not these trees? those her be and plants? And every neighbour branch drop out their grief? Poor souls, they do, and have wept out their sap, Yet I have paid no duty to my friend. Where is the Tomb I willed you to erect? See, valiant knight, proportioned and set up, As well as my poor skill would suffer me: And here his picture hangs. You have done well: Your hand I see's a perfect Architect In sorrows building: once more let suffice I quite your painful travel but with thanks: Now leave me to myself, for here I vow To spend the remnant of my hapless days: No knight nor Prince shall ever pass this way, Before his tongue acknowledge Ferdinand The faithfullest lover and the lovingest friend The world contains: I'll have his Sepulchre As yet but naked and ungarnished, ere many days hang richer with the spoils And vanquished trophies of proud passengers, Then was the Romans wealthy Capitol: So, gentle forester, bequeath thy prayers In my assistance; that is all I crave. The God of power give power unto your arm, That you may prove victorious fortunate.
seed 43: T8 · seed 44: T8 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
He did a deed of merit and of fame, Poyſoned the Siſter of a rauiſher, A Tarquin, an inceſtuous Tereus, And our poore Child the wronged Philomell: Arayne our Battailes ſtraight, and ioyne with Burbon. Heare what wee'le vrge. Speake then in warre and death: In other termes, out rage will ſpend no breath. And we will ſpeake ſo lowd, that heauen it ſelfe Shall eccho with the clangor: both our children Weele race from our remembrance, and aduaunce No other thought, but how to plague proud Fraunce. Conioyne with Burbon, e're three Sunnes ſhall ſet, In the vaſt Kingdome of Oreanus: In a pitcht field weele meet the King of Fraunce, And that falſe Traytor Duke. Nauar, thou dar'ſt not. Now by Saynt Denis, and our Grandſires tombe, Weele meet thee. Welcome. O, bring valiant men. Weel think on nought but graues & tōbs til then. Ha, ha: I laugh to ſee theſe Kings at iarre. Now ciuill diſcord like a raging floud, Swelling aboue her banks, ſhall drowne this land, Whilſt Rodorick on her ruines builds his hopes. The King of Fraunce through my ſuggeſtion, Thinks Katharine his daughter rauiſhed, Who onely wingd with loue, is fled the Campe: Pembrooke and Ferdinand, in mutuall ſtrife, Slayne by eche other, doth confirme my words▪ And for reuēge whets keene the two Kings ſwords. I thāk thee, Forreſter, whoſe rough grown walks, Wild in aſpect, afford more courteſy, Then places or for ciuility. My life redeemd by thy induſtrious hand, Remaynes in loue and duty bound to thee. Fayre Knight, preuention of ſad death, by health, More ioyes my ſoule, then thanks or rich reward. But is your armour eaſy? ſits it well? I neuer in my life was better ſitted. This ſhould be that vnlucky fatall place, Where cauſleſſe hate drew bloud from Ferdinand. Behold the graſſe, a purple regiſter, Still bluſheth in remembrance of our fight. Why wither not theſe trees? thoſe her be and plants? And euery neighbour branch droup out their grief? Poore ſoules, they do, and haue wept out their ſap, Yet I haue paid no duety to my friend. Where is the Tombe I wild you to erect? See, valiant knight, proportiond and ſet vp, As well as my poore ſkill would ſuffer mee: And here his picture hangs. You haue done well: Your hand I ſee's a perfect Architect In ſorrowes building: once more let ſuffice I quite your painfull trauell but with thanks: Now leaue me to my ſelfe, for here I vow To ſpend the remnant of my haples dayes: No knight nor Prince ſhall euer paſſe this way, Before his tongue acknowledge Ferdinand The faythfulleſt louer and the louingſt friend The world contaynes: Ile haue his Sepulcher As yet but naked and vngarniſhed, E're many dayes hang richer with the ſpoyles And vanquiſht Tropheyes of proud paſſengers, Then was the Romanes wealthy Capitoll: So, gentle Forreſter, bequeath thy prayers In my aſſiſtance; that is all I craue. The God of power giue power vnto your arme, That you may proue victorious fortunate.