Ninth Dialogue
A felon speaks with a woman of the middle class.
If a felon should dare try and speak with a woman of the middle class, he should tread carefully, for he is in all probability storming the wrong castle and asking for more trouble. However, too woo her, the felon should take advantage of the dim mood lighting afforded to him when she visits him at the local dungeon, and he should take heed to never show fear in front of the visitor, as it is common knowledge that ladies can smell this as keenly as the bloodhound of the jailers that tracked him and his fellow outlaws down. Soft speech is not often as helpful or comes as easy as a charming demeanor for such rogues, so it is convenient to proceed in this fashion:
The man says: “My lady, with so few days left before I hang at the gibbet for my sinful crimes, I can wait no longer and must confess to you that I find you are more worthy of praise than any other woman on this earth or in heaven. The noble ladies of the finest bard’s tales compare not to you! When I heard all about you from all the other men in the village, my heart leapt, but when I saw you, it was steadied, for their words were true.”
The woman says: “I thank you for your compliments, as though I know not of what gossip you have heard, I do eagerly desire to do all I can to be a woman worthy of praise, much as good Queen Matilda once did. I do my best to try to practice moderation and good judgement in all that I do.”
The man says: “Indeed, I applaud those who can sustain such lifestyles, but are not tolerance and leniency also virtues in their own ways, lending life its freedoms and merriments? I find myself cursing God that I am fated to remain here until my dying day, unless fortune and Lady Love would shine upon me. I cannot die without having known your love, my lady. I would plead with you for your favor and your help in finding an escape so that we may consummate our love.”
The woman says: “Sir, be not so bold, as not all ladies desire the rogue. You are a man doomed to die for the shameful crime of maliciously and drunkenly running down an entire flock of sheep with your cart, so how could such a hateful man dare to speak to me of love? I have been told that a lover’s good character alone would make him worthy of love, but you lack even that, as your crimes, your scheme to use me as a tool of escape, and your vile intentions all prove. I will grant you just one last kiss on your way to the gallows when I see you next!”
Tenth Dialogue
A man of the lower world speaks with a woman of the higher nobility.
If a man of the lower world should seek the love of a woman of a higher nobility, he should note that he will need to be quite careful in his choice of words and actions, as highborn ladies are likely to scorn him for his differences and even more likely to take enjoyment in public ridicule. Courtly shows of athletic prowess such as hunting have often ended in embarrassment for many a deceased lover where instead of impressing the lady and laying a prize her feet, such events will often end with the hounds sniffing the air in confusion, searching not for the hart, but rather leading the party nearer to the gentleman’s long-still heart and a new tale to tell amongst cups at the poor would-be lover’s expense. As such, I would suggest an alternate route to a lady’s heart using the tongue to beguile your lady with sweet words. As a man more than well past his physical prime, it will be essential to speak well and in a similar fashion as this:
“Good lady, God has seen fit to leave me tied to this earth past my mortal days so I can only deduce that he has given me a purpose and a quest, as mighty King Arthur and his knights sought out the Grail, I seek out my own Holy Chalice, as a knight of that other unworldly place, Avalon. I have wandered through the otherworld, and journeyed far to seek out my fame and fortune, yet my quest has remained unfulfilled and the Temple of Love that this Holy Chalice dwelled in remained unbeknownst to me, but coming here and wandering into your noble father’s court I laid eyes on the vessel that would fill my heart with life and love once again! I have been long left to wander this world, and after many years of solitude in this pallid body, I feel again as though I have life within my flesh just from the remedy of your nearness to me. Alas, I feel the many human sensations of the body perplex me again. Indeed, even Lady Philosophy herself could not reason with me for although I am dead, I feel the sickness of love clasp at my being; I have not eaten, I have not slept, and when you are near my face grows pale! You have struck me, and I am your victim. Believe me, fair maiden, when I declare my love for you!”
The woman says: “Sir, I am flattered by your speech, but think of what you say. If Lady Philosophy cannot persuade you that you have not fallen ill, let me remind you of these veritable facts; since your jousting accident so many years ago you have not ever broken your fast, you have not once laid yourself down to sleep, and your condition renders you constantly pale. It is not lovesickness that caused these symptoms, and if Lady Philosophy could still visit you in a dream or a vision, the mistress of logic would convince you of such with more grace and eptitude than I. Indeed, you show not one sign of love, so how could you make such claims and lie to me so for such vile gain? You have not even a pulse when I am about!”
The man says: “Although you may make sense, your words are not fairly judged, as my heart may not beat but it still feels. Such accusations you make, I cannot bear! My love for you is boundless, and spans both this world and the other. You will find no other suitor who can compete in terms of devotion with I, all other men--even the likes of fair Tristan--seem just fledglings learning the art of love for the first time compared to one so long on this earth, and you would never fear a period of mourning as did poor Iseult, for no man can fall victim to Death’s snare twice. Do not excoriate me for my condition, but rather look upon it as a virtue. For sooth, there is no reason to turn away from desire, and I have my merits. Would you deny love to a worthy man based solely upon his vitals? I am struck down by Aphrodite--lady, you wound me!”
The woman says: “It matters not if I wound you, for you do not bleed. You are made only of bone, sinew, and skin, as Ezekiel wrote of your kind rise in the Valley of the Dry Bones, although he said there was no wind in those hordes, but I see much evidence to the contrary in you, as your constant bantering offends my ears. Sir, you are persistent but I fear for a lover who lives a life--nay, rather--exists in two existences between the living and the dead and between the otherworld and this earth. No troubadour has ever sung of such a match as that between you and I, and I could not be sure that I would not fall prey to the same betrayal as Lunete, left waiting for her Iwein.”
The man says: “Indeed, I do not bleed, but I do not stray either. My double existence will only serve to ensure that our romance would be kept secret and safe. The nightingale will be our messenger, and I will come to you happily, leaving only when the watchmen calls for you to meet the dawn and for me to retreat to the Fortunate Isles where I will dwell miserably until next I will lay eyes upon you, for even the fair Elysium would seem to be all that St. Augustine of Hippo described the eternal damnation of Hell to be without your embrace. You act as if you were the one lacking a warm and beating heart! How can I earn your good graces and your favor?”
The woman says: “You beat at my defenses with your lithe tongue, yet still I hold. I regret causing your pain, as my heart is not yet as still as yours, and I have once felt the solaces of love. However, a lady must protect her virtue, and a woman must protect her heart. I cannot grant your request without assurances, for what worth is a lady without her dignity? I am but a woman, but I am no fool. Would you not counsel me to defend my honor, or do advise me to cast aside the warnings of the tale of the fallen Guinevere, left to mourn the loss of her virtue, her husband, and her lover? How would I know that you would remain true and would give no other lover your heart?”
The man says: “Lady, do not doubt me, for I will pledge myself as your champion, your own Knight of the Cart. Grant me your favor! Know that I am true, for I give you my heart as a token of my love, and now no other can have it. Take this as a tribute from me and keep it secret and safe, my lady, but know that I can love no other lady but you.”
The lady says: “Ah--I cannot deny that no one had ever made such a gesture to me before, yet I cannot help but wonder, do you have a reliquary to deposit this in?”
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