Shakespeare, William · published 1600 · first performed or written 1596 [1594-1596] (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T55 Fairies, fairy queens and enchanted desi typicality 0.84 · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T55: fairy, fairies, oberon, mopsus, queen, land, grace, babylon, mab, thestylis.
Captain of our Fairy band, Helena is here at hand, And the youth, mistook by me, Pleading for a lovers fee. Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be! Stand aside. The noise, they make, Will cause Demetrius to awake▪ Then will two, at once, woo one: That must needs be sport alone. And those things do best please me, That befall prepost'rously. Why should you think, that I should woo in scorn? Scorn, and derision, never come in tears. Look when I vow, I weep: and vows so borne, In their nativity all truth appears▪ How can these things, in me, seem scorn to you? Bearing the badge of faith to prove them true▪ You do advance your cunning, more, and more, When truth kills truth, o devilish holy fray! These vows are Hermias. Will you give her over? Weigh oath, with oath, and you will nothing weigh. Your vows to her, and me (put in two scales) Will even weigh; and both as light as tales. I had no judgement, when to her I swore. Nor none, in my mind, now you give her over. Demetrius loves her: and he loves not you. O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect divine, To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyen! Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe, in show, Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow, Fand with the Eastern wind, turns to a crow, When thou hold'st up thy hand. O, let me kiss This Princess of pure white, this seal of bliss▪ O spite! O hell! I see, you all are bend To set against me, for your merriment▪ If you were civil, and knew courtesy, You would not do me thus much injury. Can you not hate me, as I know you do, But you must join, in souls, to mock me to? If you were men, as men you are in show, You would not use a gentle Lady so; To vow, and swear, and super praise my parts, When I am sure, you hate me with your hearts. You both are Rivals, and love Hermia: And now both Rivalles, to mock Helena. A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, To conjure tears up, in a poor maids eyes, With your derision None, of noble sort, Would so offend a virgin, and extort A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport. You are unkind, Demetrius:: be not so. For you love Hermia: this you know I know. And hear, with all good will, with all my heart, In Hermias love I yield you up my part: And yours of Helena, to me bequeath: Whom I do love, and will do till my death. Never did mockers waste more idle breath. Lysander, keep thy Hermia: I will none. If ere I loved her, all that love is gone. My heart to her, but as guestwise, sojourned: And now to Helen, is it home returned, There to remain.
seed 43: T50 · seed 44: T47 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Captaine of our Fairy band, Helena is heere at hande, And the youth, mistooke by mee, Pleading for a louers fee. Shall wee their fond pageant see? Lord, what fooles these mortals bee! Stand aside. The noyse, they make, Will cause Demetrius to awake▪ Then will two, at once, wooe one: That must needes be sport alone. And those things do best please mee, That befall prepost'rously. Why should you think, that I should wooe in scorne? Scorne, and derision, neuer come in teares. Looke when I vow, I weepe: and vowes so borne, In their natiuitie all truth appeares▪ How can these things, in mee, seeme scorne to you? Bearing the badge of faith to prooue them true▪ You doe aduance your cunning, more, and more, When trueth killes truth, ô diuelish holy fray! These vowes are Hermias. Will you giue her ore? Weigh oath, with oath, and you will nothing waigh. Your vowes to her, and mee (put in two scales) Will euen weigh; and both as light as tales. I had no iudgement, when to her I swore. Nor none, in my minde, now you giue her ore. Demetrius loues her: and he loues not you. O Helen, goddesse, nymph, perfect diuine, To what, my loue, shall I compare thine eyne! Christall is muddy. O, how ripe, in showe, Thy lippes, those kissing cherries, tempting growe! That pure coniealed white, high Taurus snow, Fand with the Easterne winde, turnes to a crowe, When thou holdst vp thy hand. O, let me kisse This Princesse of pure white, this seale of blisse▪ O spight! O hell! I see, you all are bent To set against mee, for your merriment▪ If you were ciuill, and knew curtesie, You would not doe mee thus much iniury. Can you not hate mee, as I know you doe, But you must ioyne, in soules, to mocke mee to? If you were men, as men you are in showe, You would not vse a gentle Lady so; To vowe, and sweare, and super praise my parts, When I am sure, you hate mee with your hearts. You both are Riuals, and loue Hermia: And now both Riualles, to mock Helena. A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, To coniure teares vp, in a poore maides eyes, With your derision None, of noble sort, Would so offend a virgine, and extort A poore soules patience, all to make you sport. You are vnkinde, Demetrius:: be not so. For you loue Hermia: this you know I know. And heare, with all good will, with all my heart, In Hermias loue I yeelde you vp my part: And yours of Helena, to mee bequeath: Whom I doe loue, and will do till my death. Neuer did mockers waste more idle breath. Lysander, keepe thy Hermia: I will none. If ere I lou'd her, all that loue is gone. My heart to her, but as guestwise, soiournd: And now to Helen, is it home returnd, There to remaine.