The Trial of Chivalry (This Gallant Cavaliero Dick Bowyer) · chunk 34 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 · 517 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
That Rodorick is a perfect villain turned: For though he guided me unto his Tent, And gave his liking that the Duke should die; Yet how the villain cried to murder me. But come, in this confusion let's be gone, 'tis dangerous to abide in Bourbon's Tent. Roderick, thou art the next must taste of death: That task once done, we shall with little pain, Our angry fathers reconcile again. The Alarum sounded in the enemy's Camp. Now for Navarre and Fame, stand to it, sirs. Heart, stand to it? here's some of us knows how to run away, and they be put to it: Though we have lost our brave General, the Earl of Pembroke, ye here's Cavaliero Bowyer, Core and Nod, by Iesu, sound Cards; and Mahound and Termagant come against us, we'll fight with them. Couragio, my hearts, S. George for the honour of England. The adverse part comes on, fight gallantly. Is false Navarre so thirsty to drink blood, That he must join the Squadron of his troops, Before the signal of the battle's given. Belike you thought to take us unprepared. No, king, our wrong hangs like a watch before us, And makes us number every short-lived minute, Till your lives answer for our daughter's death; Charge, brave spirits: Saint Denis now for France. Saint Denis for Navarre: Alarum Drums. Navarre and his weak forces make retire: Pursue them, Sirs, the victory is ours. Be like starved Lions 'mongst a herd of Beasts, ruthless and bloody slaughters all you meet, Till proud Navarre be slain, or kiss your feet: Saint Denis, and cry murder through the host. He that steps forward with a murdering thought, Marries himself to death. France, cease the fight: They are Frenchmen you pursue, French men you should save. Dig not for traitors love your subjects grave. What frantic knights are those that dare oppose Their single force against our multitudes? Those that wish you and France bright fame's increase. So you would chase hence war, and welcome peace. That was the Traitor, that slew royal Bourbon. Down with the villains. soldiers, seize on him, And then pursue Navarre with sudden death. ere the least hair fall from his kingly head, Rodorick, thy base trunk shall be butchered. Will you accept of peace? Follow Navarre. Down with that murderer. Zounds, then in spite, we'll save Navarre, and chase you hence in fight. All. Ha, ha. Nay, smile not, though our number's few, Our great hearts tell us, we shall conquer you. Alarum. and S. George. France and his daunted forces gives us ground: Charge, charge again, and we are Conquerors. Stand, or ne'er stir again. What mean these Knights? To stop your passage this way, great Navarre. I charge thee, by the duty of a King, Thy love to justice, and thy subjects lives, You sound retreat, and make a peace with France. A peace, and have the vantage of the day? That's a trick, by Iesu, to mock an Ape: we'll none of that. we'll have no peace, but what our swords can make. Follow the chase.
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)
That Rodorick is a perfect villayne turn'd: For though he guided me vnto his Tent, And gaue his liking that the Duke ſhould dye; Yet how the villayne cryed to murder me. But come, in this confuſion let's be gone, Tis dangerous to abide in Burbons Tent. Rodoricke, thou art the next muſt taſte of death: That taske once done, we ſhall with little payne, Our angry fathers reconcile agayne. The Alarum ſounded in the enemies Campe. Now for Nauar and Fame, ſtand to it, ſirs. Hart, ſtand to it? heere's ſome of vs knowes how to runne away, and they be put to it: Though wee haue loſt our braue Generall, the Earle of Pembrooke, yee here's Caualiero Bowyer, Core and Nod, by Ieſu, ſound Cards; and Mahound and Termagant come againſt vs, weele fight with them. Couragio, my hearts, S. George for the honour of England. The aduerſe part comes on, fight gallantly. Is falſe Nauar ſo thirſty to drinke bloud, That he muſt ioyne the Squadron of his troops, Before the ſignall of the battel's giuen. Belike you thought to take vs vnpreparde. No, king, our wrong hangs like a watch before vs, And makes vs nomber euery ſhort-lynd minute, Till your liues anſwere for our Daughters death; Charge, braue ſpirits: Saint Denis now for Fraunce. Saint Denis for Nauar: Alarum Drums. Nauar and his weake forces make retire: Purſue them, Sirs, the victorie is ours. Be like ſtaru'd Lions 'mongſt a heard of Beaſts, Rutheleſſe and bloudy ſlaughters all you meete, Till proud Nauar be ſlayn, or kiſſe your feet: Saint Denis, and cry murder through the hoſt. He that ſteps forward with a murdring thought, Marries him ſelfe to death. Fraunce, ceaſe the fight: They are Frenchmen you purſue, French men you ſhould ſaue. Dig not for Traytors loue your ſubiects graue. What franticke knights are thoſe that dare oppoſe Their ſingle force againſt our multitudes? Thoſe that wiſh you and Fraunce bright fames encreaſe. So you would chaſe hence war, and welcome peace. That was the Traytor, that ſlew royall Burbon. Downe with the villaynes. Souldiers, ſeyze on him, And then purſue Nauar with ſudden death. E're the leaſt hayre fall from his kingly head, Rodorick, thy baſe trunck ſhall be butchered. Will you accept of peace? Follow Nauar. Downe with that murderer. Zounds, then in ſpight, Weele ſaue Nauar, and chaſe you hence in fight. All. Ha, ha. Nay, ſmile not, though our number's few, Our great hearts tell vs, we ſhall conquere you. Alarum. and S. George. Fraunce and his daunted forces giues vs ground: Charge, charge agayne, and we are Conquerours. Stand, or ne're ſtirre agayne. What meane theſe Knights? To ſtop your paſſage this way, great Nauar. I charge thee, by the duty of a King, Thy loue to Iuſtice, and thy ſubiects liues, You ſound retreat, and make a peace with Fraunce. A peace, and haue the vantage of the day? That's a tricke, by Ieſu, to mocke an Ape: wee'le none of that. Wee'le haue no peace, but what our ſwords can make. Follow the chaſe.