Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · 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 · other edition — not in the analysis
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 you not he, That frights the maidens of the Villagree, Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the querne, And bootless make the breathless huswife cherne, And sometime make the drink to bear no barm, Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm, Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Pucke, 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 silly foal, And sometime lurk I in a Gossip's 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 hold their hips, 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 waste 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 steep 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 thou not lead him through the glimmering night From Peregenia, whom he ravished? And make him with fair Eagles break his faith With Ariadne, and Atiopa? These are the forgeries of jealousy, And never since the middle Summer's 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 petty River made so proud, That they have over-borne 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 elſe you are that ſhrew'd and knauiſh ſpirit Cal'd Robin Good-fellow. Are you not hee, That frights the maidens of the Villagree, Skim milke, and ſometimes labour in the querne, And bootleſſe make the breathleſſe huſwife cherne, And ſometime make the drinke to beare no barme, Miſleade night-wanderers, laughing at their harme, Thoſe that Hobgoblin call you, and ſweet Pucke, You do their worke, and they ſhall haue good lucke. Are not you he? Thou ſpeak'ſt aright; I am that merrie wanderer of the night: I ieſt to Oberon, and make him ſmile, When I a fat and beane-fed horſe beguile, Neighing in likeneſſe of a ſilly foale, And ſometime lurke I in a Goſſips bole, In very likeneſſe of a roaſted crab: 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-foot ſtoole, miſtaketh me, Then ſlip I from her bum, downe topples ſhe, And tailour cries, and fals into a coffe. And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe, And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and ſweare, A merrier houre vvas neuer waſted there. But roome Fairy, heere comes Oberon. And heere my Miſtris: Would that he vvere gone. Ill met by Moone-light, Proud Tytania. What, iealous Oberon? Fairy skip hence. I haue forſworne his bed and companie. Tarrie raſh Wanton; am not I thy Lord? Then I muſt be thy Lady: but I know When thou vvaſt ſtolne away from Fairy Land, And in the ſhape of Corin, ſate all day, Playing on pipes of Corne, and verſing loue To amorous Phillida. Why art thou heere Come from the fartheſt ſteepe of India? But that forſooth the bouncing Amazon Your buskin'd Miſtreſſe, and your Warrior loue, To Theſeus muſt be Wedded; and you come, To giue their bed ioy and proſperitie. How canſt thou thus for ſhame Tytania, Glance at my credite, vvith Hippolita? Knowing I knovv thy loue to Theſeus? Didſt thou not leade him through the glimmering night From Peregenia, whom he rauiſhed? And make him vvith faire Eagles breake his faith With Ariadne, and Atiopa? Theſe are the forgeries of iealouſie, And neuer ſince the middle Summers ſpring Met vve on hil, in dale, forreſt, or mead, By paued fountaine, or by ruſhie brooke, Or in the beached margent of the ſea, To dance our ringlets to the whiſtling Winde, But vvith thy braules thou haſt diſturb'd our ſport. Therefore the Windes, piping to vs in vaine, As in reuenge, haue ſuck'd vp from the ſea Contagious fogges: Which falling in the Land, Hath euerie petty Riuer made ſo proud, That they haue ouer-borne their Continents. The Oxe hath therefore ſtretch'd his yoake in vaine,