The Trial of Chivalry (This Gallant Cavaliero Dick Bowyer) · chunk 26 of 38
Anonymous · published 1605 · first performed or written 1601 [1599-1604] (Annals) romance · Derby's (Strange's) Men unassigned nearest T13 Knights, squires and ladies · 515 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T13: knight, raph, lady, knights, george, master, squire, rafe, pray, god.
That ruthless mind, that iron savage heart, So greatly loved, and so little loving, Breathes in this breast, 'twas I returned disdain, For deep affection; scorn for loyalty: And now compassionless shall pine myself. Oh Ferdinand, forgive me, Ferdinand: Enjoin me any penance for that wrong; Say I shall tread a tedious pilgrimage To furthest Palestine, and I will do it. But peace, fond woman, these exclaims are vain? Thy Ferdinand is dead and cannot hear, As thou wast sometimes deaf, and wouldst not hear. A just reward. Come, Madam, have you done? Give me the picture I may hang it up. Oh take it not away: since I have lost The substance, suffer me to keep the shadow: methinks, so long as this is in my hand, I clasp my Ferdinand between mine arms: So long as I behold this lively form, So long as I refreshed by his smiles: So long, methinks, I hear him speak to me. Knew I the Painter drew this counterfeit, I would reward him with a mint of gold. If such a pleasure you receive by this, I tell you, Madam, I shall shortly have His whole proportion cut in Alabaster, Armed as he was when he encountered here, Which kneeling, shall be set upon his tomb. On that condition I will gather flowers, And once a day come straw them at his feet: And once a day pay tribute of choice thanks, To you the furtherer of my happiness: Till then, I place the picture where it was. Come on, Madam, methinks now a mask would do well: but I perceive your drift, I smell your policy, you think a bald face hath no need of a black mask. Shall I tell you what you look like? A broiled herring, or a tortured Image made of plaster work. So, sirrah, you may scoff my misery. Still haunted with these women? are men vanished? Or what occasion leaves the Realm of France, So void and empty of adventurous Knights? Out of peradventure, Madam, the ghost of Saint George is come out of England, to see what hospitality S. Denis keeps in France. Poor Bellamira, I lament thy state; But I must still suppress my discontent. What are you so deformed with loathsome spots? And what that Antic keeps you company? Antic! thou liest, and thou wert a Knight of gingerbread: I am no Antic, the whole parish where I was borne will swear, that since the reign of Charlemagne there was not a better face bred or brought up amongst them. Have patience, Knight, however thus deformed, This Lady is the daughter of Navarre. Madam, it joys me I have met you here, Though much laments me of your heavy plight. There needs no repetition of your wrong: I know, the villain Bourbon did the dead, Whom my incensed brother will revenge. For Philip's sake I have been martyred thus, And for his sake left King and Courtly life, To entertain a Pilgrim's painful habit. But on what strange adventure stays this Knight, Within this desolate forsaken wood?
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)
That ruthleſſe mind, that iron ſauage heart, So greatly loued, and ſo little louing, Breathes in this breſt, 'twas I returnd diſdaine, For deepe affection; ſcorne for loyalty: And now compaſſionleſſe ſhall pine my ſelfe. Oh Ferdinand, forgiue me, Ferdinand: Inioyne me any penance for that wrong; Say I ſhall tread a tedious pilgrimage To furtheſt Paleſtine, and I will do it. But peace, fond womā, theſe exclaimes are vaine? Thy Ferdinand is dead and cannot heare, As thou waſt ſomtimes deafe, and wouldſt not heare. A iuſt reward. Come, Madam, haue you done? Giue me the picture I may hang it vp. Oh take it not away: ſince I haue loſt The ſubſtance, ſuffer me to keepe the ſhaddow: Me thinks, ſo long as this is in my hand, I claſpe my Ferdinand betweene mine armes: So long as I behold this liuely forme, So long as I refreſhed by his ſmiles: So long, me thinks, I heare him ſpeake to me. Knew I the Paynter drew this counterfeyt, I would reward him with a mynt of gold. If ſuch a pleaſure you receyue by this, I tell you, Madam, I ſhall ſhortly haue His whole proportion cut in Alablaſter, Armd as he was when he encountred here, Which kneeling, ſhall be ſet vpon his tombe. On that condition I will gather flowers, And once a day come ſtraw them at his feet: And once a day pay tribute of choyce thanks▪ To you the furtherer of my happineſſe: Till then, I place the picture where it was. Come on, Madam, me thinks now a maske would do well: but I perceyue your drift, I ſmell your policy, you think a bald face hath no need of a black mask. Shall I tel you what you looke like? A broyld herring, or a tortur'de Image made of playſter worke. So, ſirra, you may ſcoffe my miſery. Still haunted with theſe women? are men vaniſht? Or what occaſion leaues the Realme of Fraunce, So voyd and empty of aduenturous Knights? Out of peraduenture, Madam, the ghoſt of Saint George is come out of England, to ſee what hoſpitality S. Denis keeps in Fraunce. Poore Bellamira, I lament thy ſtate; But I muſt ſtill ſuppreſſe my diſcontent. What are you ſo deformd with lothſome ſpots? And what that Anticke keeps you company? Anticke! thou lyeſt, and thou wert a Knight of ginger-bread: I am no Anticke, the whole pariſh where I was borne will ſweare, that ſince the raigne of Charlemain there was not a better face bred or brought vp amongſt them. Haue patience, Knight, how euer thus deform'd, This Lady is the daughter of Nauar. Madam, it ioyes me I haue met you heere, Though much laments me of your heauy plight. There needs no repetition of your wrong: I know, the villayne Burbon did the dead, Whom my incenſed brother will reuenge. For Philips ſake I haue bin martyrd thus, And for his ſake left King and Courtly life, To entertayne a Pilgrims paynefull habit. But on what ſtrange aduenture ſtayes this Knight, Within this deſolate forſaken wood?