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 0.70 · 463 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T55: fairy, fairies, oberon, mopsus, queen, land, grace, babylon, mab, thestylis.
No: proud spirits once denying, still deny. Then be yourself, (a woman) change those over tur●…s You made to her of an unusual peace, To an unusde defiance: give your revenge, A full and swelling sail, as from your greatness You took, in ●…yling to her: you have been Too cold in punishment, too soft in chiding, And like a mother (cause her years are green) Have winked at Errors, hoping time, or council, Or her own guilt (seeing how she goes awry,) Would streigtenall.— you find the contrary. What follows? Sharp chastizment, leave the Mother And be the steptdame; wanton her no more On your Indulgent knee, sign no more pardons To her Off-falling and her flying out, But let it be a meritorious Act: Make it a ladder for the soul to climb, Lift from the hinges all the gates of heaven; To make way for him that shall kill her. Good. Give him an office in you Starr-chamber, Or else a Saints place and Canonize him; So Sanctify the arm that takes her life, That silly souls may go on pilgrimage, Only to kiss the Instrument (that strikes) As a most reverent relic. Be it so. In that one word she expires Her fairy Lords (That play the Pilots now, and steer her kingdom In foulest weather) as white bearded corn Bows his proud head before th'imperial winds, Shall solely groveling (here) when that day comes. And that it shall come fates themselves prepare. True, but old Lions hardly fall into the snare. Is not the good and politic Satyran (Our leagued brother, and your vassal sworn) Even now (this very minute) sucking close Their fairest bosoms? if his train take well: They have strange workings (downwards) into hell. That Satiran is this hand: his brains a forge Still working for us, he's the true set clock By which we go, and of our hours doth keep The numbered strokes, when welye bound in sleep. Besides such voluntaries as will serve Under your holy colours and forsake The Fairy standard, all such fugitives Whose hearts are Babylonized: all the Mu●…erss All the damned Crew, that would for gold tear off The devils beard: All scholars that do eat The bread of sorrow, want, and discontent, Wise Satryan takes up, presses, apparrels, (woves, Their backs like Innocent Lambs, their minds like Rubs o'er their tongues with poison, which they spot Against their own anointed; their own Country, Their very parent. And thus shippes'em hither. To make 'em yours. To use. Only to employ them As Bees whilst they have stings, & bring thighs laden With honey, hive them, when they are drones, destroy them. The earnest which he gives you (adored Empress,) Are three fit engines for vs. Are they wrought?
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)
No: proud spirits once denying, still deny. Then be your selfe, (a woman) change those ouer turs You made to her of an vnusuall peace, To an vnusde defiance: giue your reuenge, A full and swelling saile, as from your greatnes You tooke, in yling to her: you haue beene Too cold in punishment, too soft in hyding, And like a mother (cause her yeares are greene) Haue winck't at Errors, hoping time, or councell, Oher owne guilt (seing how she goes awry,) Would streigtenall.—you find the contrarie. What followes▪ Sharp chastizment, leaue the Mother And be the steptdame; wanton her no more On your Indulgent knee, signe no more pardons To her Off-fallings and her flyings out, But let it be a meritorious Act: Make it a ladder for the soule to climbe, Lift from the hindges all the gates of heauen; To make way for him that shall kill her. Good. Giue him an office in you Star-chamber, Or els a Saints place and Canonize him; So Sanctifie the arme that takes her life, That sylly soules may go on pilgrimage, Only to kisse the Instrument (that strikes) As a most reuerent relique. Be it so. In that one word she expires Her fayrie Lordes (That play the Pilots nowe, and steere her kingdome In fowlest weather) as white bearded corne Bowes his proud head before th'imperiall windes, Shall soly groueling (heere) when that day comes. And that it shall come fates thēselues prepare. True, but old Lyons hardly fall into the snare. Is not the good and politique Satyran (Our leagued brother, and your vassaile sworne) Euen now (this very minute) sucking close Their fairest bosomes▪ if his trayn take well: They haue strange workings (down-wards) into hel. That Satiran is this hand: his braines a forge Still working for vs, he's the trew set clocke By which we goe, and of our houres doth keepe The numbred strokes, when welye bound in sleepe. Besides such voluntaries as will serue Vnder your holy cullors and forsake The Fairie standard, all such fugitiues Whose heartes are Babylonied: all the Muers All the damb'd Crew, that would for gold teare off The deuills beard: All schollers that doe eate The bread of sorrow, want, and discontent, Wise Satryan takes vp, presses, apparrels, (woues, Their backes like Innocent Lambes, their minds like Rubs or'e their tongues with poyson, which they spot Against their owne annointed; their owne Country, Their very parent. And thus shippes'em hither. To make em yours. To vse. Only to imploy them As Bees whilst they haue stings, & bring thighs laden With hony, hiue them, when they are droanes, destroy them. The earnest which he giues you (adored Empresse,) Are three fit engines for vs. Are they wrought?