Dekker, Thomas · published 1607 · first performed or written 1606 [c.1606-1607] (Annals) history; allegory · Prince Henry's Men T55 Fairies, fairy queens and enchanted desi typicality 0.83 · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T55: fairy, fairies, oberon, mopsus, queen, land, grace, babylon, mab, thestylis.
For we are brethren, and those sacred breasts From whence we draw our nourishment, would run Nectar to you (sweet as the food of life:) Our aged mother twenty times an hour, Would breathe her wholesome kisses on your cheek, And from her own cup you should drink that wine Which none but Prince's taste, to make you look With cheerful countenance. You have a a son, Rebellious, wild, ingrateful, poor, and yet Apollo from's own head cuts golden locks, To have them grow on his: his harp is his, The darts he shoots are his: the winged messenger That runs on all the errands of the gods, Teaches him swiftness; he'll outstrip the winds: This child of yours is (by adoption) Our mothers now, her blessing he receives; And though (as men did in the golden Age) He live i'th' open fields, hiding his head In dampish caves, and woods, (sometimes for fear,) Yet do we succour him. This your lost sheep, We home again will bring, to your own fold, Humbly to graze upon your Fairy plains, Provided, that you sow them with such seed, On which your whole land wholesomely may feed. We know you now: O what a deal of pains Would you (as others of this wing have taken) To be in Fairy land called sovereigns? Thanks for it: rashly nothing must we do: When kingdoms marry, heaven itself stands by To give the bride: Princes in tying such bands, Should use a thousand heads, ten thousand hands: For that one Act gives like an enginous wheel Motion to all, sets all the State a going, And winds it up to height, or hurls it down, The least blast turns the scale, where lies a crown: we'll therefore take advice. If these think fit We should be yours, you ours, we sign to it: Your counsel Fairy Lords: Fideli speak. Would you (my royal mistress) have those crystal Fair, double-leaved doors, where light comes forth To cheer the world, never to open more? Would you have all your slumbers turned to dreams, Frightful and broken? would you see your Lords (In stead of sitting at your Council boards) Locking their grave, white, reverend heads in steel? If so, you cannot for all Fairy land Find men to fit you better. Florimell, Breathes there in you Fidelies spirit? No Lady. No nor in any breast that's sound: true Counsellor, Already you speak music: you are strung With golden chords; Angels guide on your tongue. These potent, politic, and twin-born States, Would to their mitred fortunes tie our fates: Our Fairy groves are green, our temples stand Like goodly watchtowers, wafting passengers From rocks, t'arriue them in the Holy land: Peace (here) eats fruits, which her own hand hath sown, Your lambs with lions play: about your throne, The Palm, the Laurel, and the abundant Vine Grow up, and with your roses do entwine. But if these gripe your Sceptre once,
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)
For we are brethren, and those sacred breasts From whence we draw our nourishment, would runne Nectar to you (sweete as the food of life:) Our aged mother twentie times an hower, Would breath her wholesome kisses on your cheeke, And from her own cup you should drinke that wine Which none but Princes tast, to make you looke With cheerefull countenance. You haue a sonne, Rebellious, wild, ingratefull, poore, and yet Apollo from's owne head cuts golden lockes, To haue them grow on his: his harp is his, The darts he shoots are his: the winged messenger That runnes on all the errands of the gods, Teaches him swiftnes hee'l outstrip the windes: This child of yours is (by adoption) Our mothers now, her blessing he receiues; And tho (as men did in the golden Age) He liue ith' open fields, hiding his head In dampish caues, and woods, (sometimes for feare,) Yet doe we succour him. This your lost sheep, We home agen will bring, to your owne fold, Humbly to graze vpon your Faierie plaines, Prouided, that you sow them with such seed, On which your whole land wholesomely may feed. We know you now: O what a deale of paines Would you (as others of this wing haue taken) To be in Faierie land calld Soueraignes? Thankes for it: rashly nothing must we doe: When kingdoms marrie, heauen it selfe stands by To giue the bride: Princes in tying such bands, Should vse a thousand heads, ten thousand hands: For that one Acte giues like an enginous wheele Motion to all, sets all the State a going, And windes it vp to height, or hurles it down, The least blast turnes the scale, where lies a crowne: VVeele therefore take aduice. If these thinke fit VVe should be yours, you ours, we signe to it: Your counsell Fairie Lords: Fideli speake. Would you (my royal mistres) haue those christal Faire, double-leaued doores, where light comes forth To cheere the world, neuer to open more? VVould you haue all your slūbers turn'd to dreams, Frightfull and broken? would you see your Lords (In stead of sitting at your Councell boards) Locking their graue, white, reuerend heads in steele? If so, you cannot for all Fairie land Find men to fit you better. Florimell, Breathes there in you Fidelies spirit? No Lady. No nor in any brest that's soūd: true Coūceller, Already you speake musicke: you are strung VVith golden chords; Angels guide on your tongue. These potent, politicke, and twin-borne States, VVould to their mitred fortunes tie our fates: Our Fairie groues are greene, our temples stand Like goodly watch-towers, wafting passengers From rockes, t'arriue them in the Holy land: Peace (here) eats fruits, which her own hād hath sown, Your lambes with lyons play: about your throne, The Palme, the Lawrell, and the abundant Vine Grow vp, and with your roses doe entwine. But if these gripe your Scepter once,