Shakespeare, William · published 1600 · first performed or written 1596 [1594-1596] (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T55 Fairies, fairy queens and enchanted desi · 470 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T55: fairy, fairies, oberon, mopsus, queen, land, grace, babylon, mab, thestylis.
Either I mistake your shape, and making, quite, Or else you are that shrewd and knavish spirit, Called Robin goodfellow. Are not you he, That frights the maidens of the Villageree, Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the querne, And bootless make the breathless housewife churn, And sometime make the drink to bear no barm, Misled nightwanderers, laughing at their harm? Those, that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, You do their work, and they shall have good luck. Are not you he? Thou speakest aright; I am that merry wanderer of the night. I jest to Oberon, and make him smile, When I a fat and beane-fed horse beguile; neighing, in likeness of a filly fool, And sometime lurk In a gossippes' bowl, In very likeness of a roasted crab, And when she drinks, against her lips I bob, And on her withered dewlop, pour the ale. The wisest Aunt, telling the saddest tale, Sometime, for three foot stool, mistaketh me: Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, And tailor cries, and falls into a cough; And then the whole Quire hould their hippes, and loffe, And waxed in their mirth, and sneeze, and swear A merrier hour was never wasted there. But room Fairy: here comes Oberon. And here, my mistress. Would that he were gone. Ill met by moonlight, proud Tytania. What, jealous Oberon? Fairy skip hence. I have forsworn his bed, and company. Tarry, rash wanton. Am not I thy Lord? Then I must be thy Lady: but I know When thou hast stolen away from Fairy land, And in the shape of Corin, sat all day, Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love, To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here Come from the farthest step of India? But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, Your buskined mistress, and your warrior love, To Theseus must be wedded; and you come, To give their bed, joy and prosperity. How canst thou thus, for shame, Tytania, Glance at my credit, with Hippolita? Knowing, I know thy love to Theseus. Didst not thou lead him through the glimmering night. From Perigenia, whom he ravished? And make him, with fair Eagles, break his faith With Ariadne, and Antiopa? These are the forgeries of jealousy: And never, since the middle summers spring, Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, By paved fountain, or by rushy brook, Or in the beached margin of the Sea, To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport. Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, As in revenge, have sucked up, from the Sea, Contagious fogs: which, falling in the land, Hath every pelting river made so proud, That they have overborne their Continents. The Ox hath therefore stretched his yoke in vain,
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Either I mistake your shape, and making, quite, Or els you are that shrewde and knauish sprite, Called Robin goodfellow. Are not you hee, That frights the maidens of the Villageree, Skim milke, and sometimes labour in the querne, And bootlesse make the breathlesse huswife cherne, And sometime make the drinke to beare no barme, Misselead nightwanderers, laughing at their harme? Those, that Hobgoblin call you, and sweete Puck, You doe their worke, and they shall haue good luck. Are not you hee? Thou speakest aright; I am that merry wanderer of the night. I ieast to Oberon, and make him smile, When I a fat and beane-fed horse beguile; Neyghing, in likenesse of a filly fole, And sometime lurke Im a gossippes bole, In very likenesse of a rosted crabbe, And when she drinkes, against her lips I bob, And on her withered dewlop, poure the ale. The wisest Aunt, telling the saddest tale, Sometime, for three foote stoole, mistaketh mee: Then slippe I from her bumme, downe topples she, And tailour cryes, and falles into a coffe; And then the whole Quire hould their hippes, and loffe, And waxen in their myrth, and neeze, and sweare A merrier hower was neuer wasted there. But roome Faery: here comes Oberon. And here, my mistresse. Would that he were gon. Ill met by moonelight, proud Tytania. What, Iealous Oberon? Fairy skippe hence. I haue forsworne his bedde, and company. Tarry, rash wanton. Am not I thy Lord? Then I must be thy Lady: but I know When thou hast stollen away from Fairy land, And in the shape of Corin, sat all day, Playing on pipes of corne, and versing loue, To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here Come from the farthest steppe of India? But that, forsooth, the bounsing Amason, Your buskind mistresse, and your warriour loue, To Theseus must be wedded; and you come, To giue their bedde, ioy and prosperitie. How canst thou thus, for shame, Tytania, Glaunce at my credit, with Hippolita? Knowing, I know thy loue to Theseus. Didst not thou lead him through the glimmering night. From Perigenia, whom he rauished? And make him, with faire Eagles, breake his faith With Ariadne, and Antiopa? These are the forgeries of iealousie: And neuer, since the middle Sommers spring, Met we on hill, in dale, forrest, or meade, By paued fountaine, or by rushie brooke, Or in the beached margent of the Sea, To daunce our ringlets to the whistling winde, But with thy brawles thou hast disturbd our sport. Therefore the windes, pyping to vs in vaine, As in reuenge, haue suckt vp, from the Sea, Contagious fogges: which, falling in the land, Hath euery peling riuer made so proude, That they haue ouerborne their Continents. The Oxe hath therefore stretcht his yoake in vaine,