The Trial of Chivalry (This Gallant Cavaliero Dick Bowyer) · chunk 35 of 38
Anonymous · published 1605 · first performed or written 1601 [1599-1604] (Annals) romance · Derby's (Strange's) Men unassigned nearest T17 Eastern conquest: Persians, Turks and so · 513 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
Are you grown insolent? For one light puff of fortune proves it so▪ Nay, than our swords turn to your overthrow. That was my father that you fought against. You did as much to mine. Princes, agree: force cannot end this war, but policy. Therefore disperse yourselves, and let our Squires, With Trumpets in their mouths sound loud retreat, Where you perceive the fight most violent. The strangeness of which act will straight amaze, When they shall hear both peace and war denounced, And one self instant, they will soon retire. To know the issue, Princes, fall to work: 'tis work of charity, 'twould do me good, If we could end this battle without blood. I hope we shall: farewell, i'll to my charge. The like will Pembroke. Philip is not last. Yet though I seek the safety of my friends, Rodorick shall lose his blood, ere this fight ends. Struggle not, strive not, your sweet heart Bowyer cannot save you. Without prolixity, you must go with me. Help, help. And the God of war come in thy defence, my humour is to kill him. Come away. By Iesu, & you go this way, you must pay custom. Zounds, you pickt-hatch Caualiero petticoat-monger, can you find time now to be catching Thomasin? come, deliver, or by Zenacrib, & the life of king Charlemagne, i'll thrash your coxcomb, as they do hens at Shrovetide: no, will you not do, you Tan-fat? zounds, then have at you. Are the Kings severed? will they bow to peace? Peace is a welcome guest unto their hearts: But Roderick, like a greedy envious churl, Fearing to spend his wealth, still keeps them back, 'tis he exasperates the PRINCE's hate: And when our Trumpets call them to retire, He with wars clangor sets them on again. Unless he be removed, our labour's lost. It shall not; for i'll seek him through the Host, And with this sword pare off the traitors head. Do, and i'll scour these ranks: if Pembroke's eye Encounters his, he meets his Tragedy. Stay, warlike friends, and aid me in revenge. That is Roderick. here's the Traitor, strike him down. Who lifts his arm at him, strikes at my breast. Why have you thus ringed me about with swords To show thee thou must die. What have I done, That thus you labour my destruction? Thou were't a party in all Bourbon's wrongs. Falsely termed Ferdinand a Ravisher. Set discord twixt these Kings, Practised my death. Villain, for this, our swords shall stop thy breath. Stand not to argue, let's all run at him. Now as you love my love, or prize mine honour. Touch not the Traitor, he is Philip's foe; And none but I must work his overthrow. Thrice in the battle he was rescued from me: But now he's fallen into the lions paw, From whence the whole world cannot ransom him. Preservers of my life, heroic friends, Be you my safety, keep the Soldiers off, Whilst in the midst by fair and equal fight, I send this Traitor to eternal night.
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)
Are you growne inſolent? For one light puffe of fortune proues it ſo▪ Nay, then our ſwords turne to your ouerthrow. That was my father that you fought againſt. You did as much to mine. Princes, agree: force cānot end this war, but policy. Therefore diſpearſe your ſelues, and let our Squires, With Trumpets in their mouthes ſound lowd retreat, Where you perceiue the fight moſt violent. The ſtrangeneſſe of which act will ſtraight amaze, When they ſhall heare both peace and war denounc'd, And one ſelfe inſtant, they will ſoone retire. To know the iſſue, Princes, fall to worke: Tis worke of charity, 'twould doe me good, If we could end this battell without bloud. I hope we ſhall: farewell, ile to my charge. The like will Pembrooke. Philip is not laſt. Yet though I ſeeke the ſafety of my frends, Rodorick ſhall loſe his bloud, e're this fight ends. Struggle not, ſtriue not, your ſweete heart Bowyer cannot ſaue you. Without prolixity, you muſt goe with mee. Helpe, helpe. And the God of warre come in thy defence, my humour is to kill him. Come away. By Ieſu, & you go this way, you muſt pay cuſtom. Zounds, you pickt-hatch Caualiero petticote-monger, can you find time now to be catching Thomaſin? come, deliuer, or by Zenacrib, & the life of king Charlemayne, ile thraſh your coxcombe, as they doe hennes at Shrouetyde: no, will you not doe, you Tan-fat? zounds, then haue at you. Are the Kings ſeuerd? will they bow to peace? Peace is a welcome gheſt vnto their hearts: But Rodoricke, like a greedy enuious churle, Fearing to ſpend his wealth, ſtill keeps them backe, Tis he exaſperates the Princes hate: And when our Trumpets call them to retyre, He with warres clangor ſets them on agayne. Vnleſſe he be remoou'd, our labour's loſt. It ſhall not; for ile ſeeke him through the Hoſt, And with this ſword pare off the Traytors head. Doe, and ile ſcowre theſe ranks: if Pembroks eye Encounters his, he meets his Tragedy. Stay, warlike friends, and ayd me in reuenge. That is Rodoricke. Heere's the Traytor, ſtrike him downe. Who lifts his arme at him, ſtrikes at my breſt. Why haue you thus ring'd me about with ſwords To ſhew thee thou muſt dye. What haue I done, That thus you labour my deſtruction? Thou wer't a party in all Burbons wrongs. Falſely term'd Ferdinand a Rauiſher. Set diſcord 'twixt theſe Kings, Practiſed my death. Villayne, for this, our ſwords ſhall ſtop thy breath. Stand not to argue, let's all runne at him. Now as you loue my loue, or prize mine honour. Touch not the Traytor, he is Philips foe; And none but I muſt worke his ouerthrow. Thrice in the battell he was reſcued from me: But now hee's falne into the Lyons paw, From whence the whole world cannot ranſome him. Preſeruers of my life, heroick friends, Be you my ſafety, keepe the Souldyers off, Whilſt in the midſt by fayre and equall fight, I ſend this Traytor to eternall night.