On the eelevynth of Nybmbr, Sir Ethan Hawke did reelease his nowledge upon hour poore heds. And lyke a village idiot reeleased frm hys stocks, we wyre no cumberwold famlyes no moore. Fore Sir Ethane Hawkes' greate nowledge did flow over us lyke mewsic frum ayngls, or lyke sewage down our streetes. Fore we have a greate amont of sewage in our streetes.
"A knight, fearing he may not return from battle, writes a letter to his children in which he tries to leave a record of all he knows. He lays out the truth of the world as he sees it in a series of ruminations on solitude, humility, forgiveness, honesty, courage, grace, pride, patience, generosity, authenticity, and love. He presents an honest and joyful accounting of what the measure of our lives should be."(frum Knopf Publishing via Time Magazine)
That gretter was ther noon under the sonne. What with his wysdom and his chivalrie, hys wtt and his honher, Sir Ethan Hawke spake wyrds foll of manhed. Beewhold, wysdom in its peurest form:
"The voice of our spirit is gentle, and cannot be heard if it has to compete with others. Just as it is impossible to see your reflection in troubled water, so too is it with the soul." (from Rules for a Knight, bye Sir Ethan Hawke)
And thus oypns Sir Hawke's tome to husbands and thyr wenches --- wyfes--- on the arte of child-reering. Tho he wryte in strng toonge, he spaketh wyrds moor clear and tryue than eny othr. For not all cyn be as troo as Sir Ethan Hawke, nor as wyse.
Sir Ethane Hawke wrytes in the vyce of his distant sibbe, who he cyn trace back to kyngs of knites of lore. Aye, and this wretch who be wryting wesh that hyr sibbe had roryal bloode and not a raggabrash of famyly. But not all cyn bee as royale as Sir Ethan Hawke, nor as wyse.
Aye, ye fustylugs and fopdoodles must lysten, for Sir Ethan Hawke doth recale days of knitehod and chivalrie, and refused to recale the common peeple that plagued our daylee lyves. Fore it is truelee a berave man who cyn ryse above hys tyme. And not all cyn bee as berave as Sir Ethan Hawke, nor as wyse.
And in hys grete wysdome the gental-herted Sir Ethan Hawke was rite and trew to laude oure tyme as the heite of "skilled parenting." Wee hav varyous and manyed exmples of famly frindlee acts deesighned wyth the chyld in mind:
1. Torture, to protect the chyld frome eevil
Harke, tho, knites and gentele laydees, they were but wytches, and myst be byrned.
2. A rigerous Leegal system, faire for the chyld
Aye, in 1447, a sow of greate syze and hyr broode of younge was put on tryal for the myrder and feasting upon of a dere chyld. The sow was fownd gylty and eeten bye all. The pyglets pardoned for the reeson of thyr yooth, for we are a merciful peeple.
3. Our varied lyterature to teech the chyld lissons
Sir Ethan Hawke myst no of the booke "How the Goode Wif Thaught Hir Doughter." Aye, a wastey of hys presious tyme to rede, butt litryter alle th sayme. Joost a symple booke on woymenhod and the breiding of doughtyrs. Of corse, read bye fathrs and hysbands to the ladyees eers, fore kno wymn cyn reede. Except the wytches, who wyre byurned.
4. Cleanleeness and remedees for yng wymn, hoo must preesent thyselvs in ways pleesing to the eyee
Aye, mch moore myst be doone than just a monthlee bathe wyth youre soape of ash and fat. The faire wymn weares a mask of bloode for hyr complection an rybs hog greese on hyr face for a yoothful shyne. Fore nothing is moore beeutyful than veins shining throo a faire maidens chique.
5. Famyly Planninge fore the fewtur chyld
Aye, Sir Ethan Hawke nos that goode famylyes are planned famylyes. And all famylyes are planned not by wymn but Gode, throo his vessel, myn, of corse.
Fore all hys harde worke, Sir Ethan Hawke deeserves a deelicius feest of tastee pigeon and eele pye (typ: treets to gyve a well-beehaved chyld!). For, ye, truelee the knite is the most noobel of creetures, set on thys erth fore oure learning. And none cyn bee as rite as Sir Ethan, nor as wyse.