Frederick Richardson, ../../ (1873)
“ Ye faire mayde: “‘Tis Percival, my archer love, I wot!” “’T was aimed with care, and my love-shaft, I trow, Straight to her hand—and to her heart—will go.” “A valentine his trusty bow hath shot!” “Gadzooks!” cries Percival. ‘Alack! what ’s up? ”
