Dekker, Thomas · published 1607 · first performed or written 1606 [c.1606-1607] (Annals) history; allegory · Prince Henry's Men unassigned nearest T55 Fairies, fairy queens and enchanted desi · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T55: fairy, fairies, oberon, mopsus, queen, land, grace, babylon, mab, thestylis.
Else let ourself decline; give them our presence: In misery all nations should be kin, And lend a brother's hand, usher them in. Stood here my foes (distressed) thus would I grieve them, Not how they ha' been, but how I might relieve them. Your good deeds (matchless Fairy) like the Sun, (Rising but only in this point of heaven, Spread through the world, So that a Prince (made wretched, By his unhappy father, that lies slain By barbarous swords, and in his gory wounds, Drowns all the hopes of his posterity) Hither, is like an orphan come (from far) To get relief and remedy 'gainst those, That would defeat him of his portion. Pity and we had talk before you came, She hath not taken yet her hand from ours, Nor shall she part, until those higher powers Behold that Prince: good works are theirs, not ou'rs; Go: bid him trust his misery in our hands, Great trees I see do fall, when the shrub stands. Stands my beard right? the gown I must look grave, White hairs like silver clouds a privilege have, Not to be searched, or be suspected foul: Make away those 2. turn coats. Suit me next Like to a Satin devil (bravely) fly Your sails shape: be here immediately. So: excellent: a subtle mask: all's fit, This very cap makes my head swell with wit. 'mongst soldiers, I have played the soldier, Been mutinous, railed at the State, cursed peace: They walk with crosse-armes, gaping for a day, Have under-shorde their eyelids (like trap windows.) To keep them open, and with yawning ears, Lie listening on flock bolsters, till rebellion Beat up her drum: this lards me fat with laughter, Their swords are drawn half way, & all those throats That are to bleed are marked: and all those doors, Where civil Massacres, murders (died in grain) Spoil, rifle, and sweet ravishments shall enter, Have tokens stamped on them (to make 'em known) More dreadful than the Bills that preach the plague▪ From them, with oiled hams (lapped in servile blue) I stole, and filled out wine of Babylon, To live things (made of clods) poor country sots, And drunk they are: whole shires with it do reel, Poisons run smooth, because men sweetness feel. Now to my schoolmen, Learning's fort is strong, But poorly manned, and cannot hold outlong When golden bullets batter.— Yonder's one— You're a poor scholar? Yes. What read you? A book. So learned, yet so young? Ye may see Sir. You feed some discontent? Perhaps I ha' cause. What troubles you? You trouble me: pray leave me. Put yourself, and your grief into my hands. Say ye? Put yourself & your grief into my hands. Are you a Doctor? your hands Sir, pray why? You know me not. Do you know yourself? your business? Are you a scholar? Iudge of that by these. (ool▪
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)
Els let our selfe decline; giue them our presence: In mysery all nations should be kin, And lend a brothers hand, vsher them in. Stood here my foes (distrest) thus would I grieue them▪ Not how they ha bin, but how I might relieue them. Your good deeds (matchlesse Fayrie) like the Sun, (Rising but onely in this poyn of heauen, Spred through the world, So that a Prince (made wretched, By his vnhappy father, that lies slaine By barbarous swords, and in his goary wounds, Drownes all the hopes of his posteritie) Hether, is like an orphan come (from farre) To get reliefe and remedie gainst those, That would defeat him of his portion. Pittie ad we had talke before you came, She hath not taken yet her hand from ours, Nor shall shee part, vntill those higher powers Behold that Prince: good workes are theirs, not ou'rs; Goe: bid him trust his misery in our hands, Great trees I see do fall, when the shrub stands. Stands my beard right? the gowne I must looke graue, White haires like siluer cloudes a priuiledge haue, Not to be search'd, or be suspected fowle: Make away those 2. turne coates. Suite me next Like to a Sattin diuell (brauely) flie Your sayles shape: be here immediatly. So: excellent: a subtile masque: alls fit, This very cap makes my head swell with wit. Mongst souldiers, I haue plaid the souldier, Bin mutinous, raild at the State, cursd peace: They walke with crosse-armes, gaping for a day, Haue vnder-shorde their eie-lids (like trap windows.) To keep them open, and with yawning eares, Lie listning on flocke bolsters, till rebellion Beat vp her drum: this lards me fat with laughter, Their swords are drawn halfe way, & all those throats That are to bleed are mark'd: and all those doores, Where ciuill Massacres, murders (di'd in graine) Spoile, riflings, and sweet rauishments shall enter, Haue tokens stamp'd on them (to make 'em knowne) More dreadfull then the Bils that preach the plague▪ From them, with oyl'd hammes (lap'd in seruile blew) I stole, and fil'd out wine of Babylon, To liue things (made of clods) poore countrey sots, And drunke they are: whole shires with it do reele, Poysons run smooth, because men sweetnes feele. Now to my schoole-men, Learnings fort is strong, But poorely man'd, and cannot hold outlong VVhen golden bullets batter.—Yonders one— Y'are a poore scholler? Yes. VVhat read you? A booke. So learned, yet so young? Yee may see Sir. You feede some discontent? Perhaps I ha cause. VVhat troubles you? You trouble me: pray leaue me. Put your selfe, and your griefe into my hands. Say yee? Put your selfe & your grief into my hands. Are you a Doctor? your hands Sir, pray why? You know me no. Do you know your selfe? your busines▪ Are you a scholler? Iudge of that by these. (ool▪