Testo Knights

The joust begins, the King has called his knights to combat. This toad gray day the King and Council will brook no quarter, Like mute black crows they gather for a sporting slaughter. The wager stands, the hand of the rotund royal daughter, Whose toothless grin stays the suitors who would court her. To honour the truth and to uphold the right, To one love be faithful this the code of the knights. Each his lance, a broadsword and rust tarnished armour, whose joints are stiff and bow the gait of his wheezing charger. The joust is done but none rise from the 'field of honour'.