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The Geste of Duke Jocelyn by Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952
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A word from our supporters: File extension STP | GILL: Then make him smile as often as you can. MYSELF: I might do that, 't is none so bad a plan. GILL: And the lady--she must be a lady fair. MYSELF: My dear, she's beautiful beyond compare. GILL: Why, then-- MYSELF: My pen! The tale of young Duke Jocelyn, For critics, schools, And cramping rules, Heedless and caring not a pin. On this fair page enrolled, In letters big and bold, As seemeth fit-- To wit:-- FYTTE INor where, but mark! the sun was plaguy hot Falling athwart a long and dusty road In which same dust two dusty fellows strode. One was a tall, broad-shouldered, goodly wight In garb of motley like a jester dight, Fool's cap on head with ass's ears a-swing, While, with each stride, his bells did gaily ring; But, 'neath his cock's-comb showed a face so marred With cheek, with brow and lip so strangely scarred As might scare tender maid or timid child Unless, by chance, they saw him when he smiled, For then his eyes, so deeply blue and bright, Did hold in them such joyous, kindly light, That sorrow was from heavy hearts beguiled-- This jester seemed less ugly when he smiled. I've made him smile and made him do it--twice. That 't was the Duke of course you've guessed at once Since you, I know, we nothing of a dunce. But, what should bring a duke in cap and bells? Read on and mark, while he the reason tells. And snatches of a merry song he hummed, The while askance full merrily he eyed The dusty knave who plodded at his side. A bony fellow, this, and long of limb, His belt to bear a long broad-sword did serve, His eye was bold, his nose did fiercely curve Down which he snorted oft and (what is worse) Beneath his breath gave vent to many a curse. Whereat the Duke, sly laughing, plucked lutestring And thus, in voice melodious did sing: Since thus in humble guise we go We merry chances oft may know, Sir Pertinax of Shene." Quoth Pertinax of Shene. These foolish bells shall testify That very fool, forsooth, am I, Good Pertinax of Shene!" Growled Pertinax of Shene. "Par Dex, lord Duke--plague take it, how I sweat, By Cock, messire, ye know I have small lust Like hind or serf to tramp it i' the dust! Per De, my lord, a parch-ed pea am I-- I'm all athirst! Athirst? I am so dry My very bones do rattle to and fro And jig about within me as I go! Why tramp we thus, bereft of state and rank? Why go ye, lord, like foolish mountebank? And whither doth our madcap journey trend? And wherefore? Why? And, prithee, to what end?" Then quoth the Duke, "See yonder in the green Doth run a cooling water-brook I ween, Come, Pertinax, beneath yon shady trees, And there whiles we do rest outstretched at ease Thy 'wherefores' and thy 'whys' shall answered be, And of our doings I will counsel thee." |