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 · 513 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T55: fairy, fairies, oberon, mopsus, queen, land, grace, babylon, mab, thestylis.
Feels the base earth our weight? ist common Air We suck in and respire? do servile clouds, (Whose azure wings spread over graves and tombs) Our glorious body circumvolue? dare night Cast her black nets into days crystal streams, To draw up darkness on our golden beams: And us t'ecclipse, why is not Babylon In a contorted chair made all of stars, Wound up by wheels as high, nay 'bove the thrones Supernal, which with Ioues own seat stand even, That we might ride here as the Queen of heaven. And with a spurn from our controlling foot, That should like thunder shake th'aetherial floor, Of life and heaven them both ot once bereave, That thither up dare clime vithout our leave. You do: you ride there now this is your Sphere, Earth is all one with heaven when you are here. Yet there's a hell on earth or if nothell, Devils there are or worse than Devils, that roar only at you. At us? what, dare they roar? Your pardon, and i'll tell it. Tell: We fear, no spots, the orb we shine in is so clear. Thus then: the Fairy Adders hiss: they call you The superstitious Harlot: purple whore: The whore that rides on the rose-coloured beast: The great whore, that on many waters sitteth, Which they call many Nations: whilst their Kings, Are slaves to sat your lust, and that their blood, (When with them you have done) serves as a flood, For you to drink or swim in. O profane! Go on: the searching small wounds is no pain. These cowards thus when your back's turned (that strike) Follow theirblowe and swear, that where you claim, Supremacy monarchal over Kings, 'tis but your tyrannous pride, and not your due. But what yourselves give, what have we from you? You say we are your mother, and if so, Must not sons kneel? they pay but what they owe. They say the robes of purple which you wear, Your scarlet veils, and mantles are not given you As types of honour and regality, But died so deep with blood upon them spilled, And that (all o'er) you're with red murder gilt: The drink even in that golden cup, they swear Is wine sophisticated, that does run Low on the lees of error, which in taste, Is sweet and like the neat and wholesome juice Of the true grape, but 'tis rank poison down. Have we not all it tasted? Nay, utter all. Out of their lips you see flows nought but gall. What can my breath do more, to blast your cheeks, And leave them glowing as red gads of steel? My tongue's already blistered sounding this, Yet must I whisper to your sacred ear: That on your brow (they say) is writ a name In letters mystical, which they interpret Confusion, by great Babylon they mean. The City of Confusion. View our forehead? Where are we printed with such Characters? Point out these marks: Which of you all can lay A finger on that Mole that marks our face?
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)
Feeles the base earth our weight? ist common Aire We suck in and respire? doe seruile clowdes, (Whose azue winges spread ouer graues and tombes) Our glorious body circumvolue? are night Cast her black nets into dayes cristall streames, To draw vp darknesse on our golden beames: And vs t'ecclipse, why is not Babilon In a contorted chaire made all of starres, Wound vp by wheeles as high, nay boue the thrones Supernall, which with Ioues owne seate stand euen, That we might ride heere as the Queene of heauen. And with a spurne from our controwling foote, That should like thunder shake th'etheriall floore, Of life and heauen them both ot once bereaue, That thither vp dare clime vithout our leaue. You doe: you ride there now this is your Sphere, Earth is all one with heauen when you are heere. Yet ther's a hell on earth or if nothell, Diuels there are or worse then Diuels, that roare onely at you. At vs? what, dare they roare? Your pardon, and ile tell it. Tell: We feare, no spots, the orbe we shine in is so cleere. Thus then: the Faiery Adders hisse: they call you The superstitious Harlot: purple whore: The whore that rides on the rose-coloured beast: The great whore, that on many waters sitteth, Which they call many Nations: whilst their Kings, Are slaues to sate your lust, and that their bloud, (When with them you haue done) serues as a floud, For you to drinke or swimme in. O prophane! Goe on: the searching small wounds is no paine. These cowards thus when your back's turnd (that strike) Follow theirblowe and sweare, that where you claime, Supremacie monarchall ouer Kings, Tis but your tiranous pride, and not your due. But what your selues giue, what haue we from you? You say we are your mother, and if so, Must not sonnes kneele? they pay but what they owe. They say the robes of purple which you weare, Your scarlet veiles, and mantles are not giuen you As types of honour and regality, But dyed so deepe with bloud vpon them spilt, And that (all or'e) y'are with red murder gilt: The drinke euen in that golden cup, they sweare Is wine sophisticated, that does runne Low on the lees of error, which in taste, Is sweete and like the neate and holsome iuyce Of the true grape, but tis ranke poyson downe. Haue we not all it tasted? Nay, vtter all. Out of their lips you see flowes naught but gall. What can my breath doe more, to blast your cheekes, And leaue them glowing as red gads of steele? My tongue's already blistred sounding this, Yet must I whisper to your sacred eare: That on your brow (they say) is writ a name In letters misticall, which they interpret Confusion, by great Babylon they meane. The Citie of Confusion. View our forhead? Where are we printed with such Characters? Point out these markes: Which of you all can lay A finger on that Moale that markes our face?