Shakespeare, William · published 1630 · first performed or written 1597 [Apr 23] (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T55 Fairies, fairy queens and enchanted desi typicality 0.82 · 501 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T55: fairy, fairies, oberon, mopsus, queen, land, grace, babylon, mab, thestylis.
They are couched in a pit hard by Hernes oak, with obscured Lights; which at the very instant of Falstaffes and our meeting, they will at once display to the night. That cannot choose but amaze him. If he be not amazed, he will be mocked; If he be amazed, he will every way be mocked. we'll betray him finely. Against such Lewdsters, and their lechery, Those that betray them, do no treachery. The hour drawes-on; to the oak, to the oak. Trib, trib Fairies; Come, and remember your parts: be bold (I pray you) follow me into the pit, and when I give the watch-'ords, do as I bid you; Come, come trib, trib. The Windsor-bell hath struck twelve: the Minute draws on: Now the hot-bloodied-Gods assist me; Remember love, thou was't a Bull for thy Europa, love set on thy horns. O powerful love, that in some respects makes a Beast a Man: in some other, a Man a beast. You were also (Jupiter) a Swan, for the love of Leda: O omnipotent love, how near the God drew to the complexion of a Goose: a fault done first in the form of a beast, (O Jove, a beastly fault:) and then another fault, in the semblance of a fowl, think on't (Ioue) a fowlefault. When Gods have hot backs, what shall poor men do? For me, I am here a Windsor stag, and the fattest (I think) i'th' forest. Send me a cool rut-time (Jove) or who can blame me to piss my Tallow? Who comes here my do? Sir John? Art thou there (my deer?) My male-Deere? My do, with the black Scut? Let the sky rain Potatoes: let it thunder, to the tune of Greene-sleeues, haile-kissing Comfit, and snow Eringoes; Let there come a tempest of provocation, I will shelter me here. Mistress Page is come with me (sweet heart.) Divide me like a brid'd-Bucke, each a Haunch: I will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the fellow of this walk; and my horns I bequeath your husband. Am I a Woodman, ha'? Speak I like Herne the Hunter? Why, now is Cupid a child of conscience, he makes restitution. As I am a true spirit, welcome. Alas, what noise? Heaven forgive-our sins. What should this be? M. Page. Away, away. I think the devil will not have me damned, Lest the oil that's in me should set hell on fire; He would never else cross me thus. Fairies black, grey, green, and white, You moonshine revellers, and shades of night. You Orphan heirs of fixed destiny, Attend your office, and your quality. Crier hobgoblyn, make the Fairy Oyes. Elves, list your names: Silence you airy toys. Cricket, to Windsore-chimnies shalt thou leap; Where fires thou findest vnraked, and hearths unswept, There pinch the Maids as blue as Bill-berry, Our radiant Queen, hates Sluttery. They are Fairies, he that speaks to them shall die, I'll wink, and couch: No man their works must eye.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1157–1189 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 39 of 42 in this edition
Length
501 words · 734 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T55 — Fairies, fairy queens and enchanted desirecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.820 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
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)
They are couch'd in a pit hard by Hernes Oake, with obſcur'd Lights; which at the very inſtant of Falſtaffes and our meeting, they will at once diſplay to the night. That cannot chooſe but amaze him. If he be not amaz'd, he will be mock'd; If he be amaz'd, he will euery way be mock'd. Wee'll betray him finely. Againſt ſuch Lewdſters, and their lechery, Thoſe that betray them, do no treachery. The houre drawes-on; to the Oake, to the Oake. Trib, trib Fairies; Come, and remember your parts: be pold (I pray you) follow me into the pit, and when I giue the watch-'ords, do as I pid you; Come, come trib, trib. The Windſor-bell hath ſtroke twelue: the Minute drawes on: Now the hot-bloodied▪ Gods aſſiſt mee; Remember loue, thou was't a Bull for thy Europa, Loue ſet on thy hornes. O powerfull Loue, that in ſome reſpects makes a Beaſt a Man: in ſome other, a Man a beaſt. You were alſo (Iupiter) a Swan, for the loue of Leda: O omnipotent Loue, how nere the God drew to the complexion of a Gooſe: a fault done firſt in the forme of a beaſt, (O Ioue, a beaſtly fault:) and then another fault, in the ſemblance of a Fowle, thinke on't (Ioue) a fowlefault. When Gods haue hot backes, what ſhall poore men doe? For me, I am heere a Windſor Stagge, and the fatteſt (I thinke) i'th Forreſt. Send me a coole rut-time (Ioue) or who can blame mee to piſſe my Tallow? Who comes heere my Doe? Sir Iohn? Art thou there (my Deere?) My male-Deere? My Doe, with the blacke Scut? Let the skie raine Potatoes: let it thunder, to the tune of Greeneſleeues, haile-kiſſing Comfit, and ſnow Eringoes; Let there come a tempeſt of prouocation, I will ſhelter mee heere. Miſtris Page is come with me (ſweet heart.) Diuide me like a brid'd-Bucke, each a Haunch: I will keepe my ſides to my ſelfe, my ſhoulders for the fellow of this walke; and my hornes I bequeath your husband. Am I a Woodman, ha? Speake I like Herne the Hunter? Why, now is Cupid a child of conſcience, he makes reſtitution. As I am a true ſpirit, welcome. Alas, what noiſe? Heauen forgiue-our ſinnes. What ſhould this be? M. Page. Away, away. I thinke the diuell will not haue me damn'd, Leſt the oyle that's in me ſhould ſet hell on fire; He would neuer elſe croſſe me thus. Fairies blacke, gray, greene, and white, You Moone-ſhine reuellers, and ſhades of night. You Orphan heires of fixed deſtiny, Attend your office, and your quality. Crier Hob-goblyn, make the Fairy Oyes. Elues, liſt your names: Silence you aiery toyes. Cricket, to Windſore-chimnies ſhalt thou leape; Where fires thou find'ſt vnrak'd, and hearths vnſwept, There pinch the Maids as blew as Bill-berry, Our radiant Queene, hates Sluttery. They are Fairies, he that ſpeaks to them ſhall die, Ile winke, and couch: No man their workes muſt eie.