The Valiant Welshman (Caradoc the Great) · chunk 13 of 32
A., R. · published 1615 · first performed or written 1612 [1610-1615] (Annals) history · Prince Henry's Men T55 Fairies, fairy queens and enchanted desi typicality 0.83 · 517 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T55: fairy, fairies, oberon, mopsus, queen, land, grace, babylon, mab, thestylis.
Sir Thomas Morion, for so are you called, Darling unto the beauteous Fairy Queen; Your fortunes shall be such, as all the world Shall wonder at Pheander's noble name: For otherwise, so are you also named. I know to what intent you hither come: You come to see your Love, the Fairy Queen. And talk with her here in this silent place, Her nimble Fairies, and herself do use Oft to repair: and long it will not be, Ere she come hither: but thus much you must know You must not talk to her, as to a Queen Of earthly substance: for she is a pure And simple spirit, without Elements: Wherefore, without any mortal thing That may annoy her most immortal sense, You must go, humbly creeping on your hands, Without your Doublet, Rapier, Cloak or Hose, Or any thing that may offend her nose. And see, see, yonder she comes; if you will speak with her, You must do as I tell you. Oh help me quickly; Come, Ratsbane, uncase, my love is come. Great Queen, thou sovereign of Pheander's heart, Vouchsafe a word unto thy Maiden Knight, That bows his guts unto thy mighty face. Follow me this way. Help, Ratsbane, help, help. Help? why, where are you? I thought you had been in the hole by this time; Come, give me your hand. You follow the Fairy Queen? Come, come, say nothing: we'll go home like fools as we came. Come, my clothes, my clothes. Cod's lid, clothes! Now we may go home worse fools than we came. 'Sfoot, this cunning Rascal means to set us a hay making. 'Sfoot, we are fit for the Dogge-house, we are flayde already. Well, we may go home with the naked truth. It's no matter, A man's a man, though he have but a hose on his head. Now friends and fellow Soldiers in just Arms, Prepare yourselves against the haughty foe, Who, as we hear, marches not far from hence. What we have done, by force we'll make it good, Or seal our bold attempts, with death and blood. King, keep your own; maugre all opposition, If he come hither to demand your right, And with his rebel troops disturb the peace Of what both gods and men have made your own, Maintain the quarrel with your awful power, Be it right or wrong; behave yourself like Ioue, And strike with thunder his base insolence: Discourse not what is done, nor how, nor when. Only Kings wills are Laws for other men. What tidings brings this sweating Messenger? My Lord, Prince Caradoc, returned from Britain, Is with his Army marching hitherwards. He comes unto his death. Now, Codigune, Banish all timorous thoughts: think what thou art; A King. That word is able to infuse Boldness, as infinite, as that we call The world's first mover. Why, the name of King Were able to create a man of stone, With more than animal courage, to inspire Dullness, with nerued resolution. Then, Codigune, like Atlas, on thy back, Support thy kingdoms Arch, until it crack. March forward.
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)
Sir Thomas Morion, for so are you called, Darling vnto the beautious Fayry Queene; Your fortunes shall bee such, as all the world Shall wonder at Pheanders noble name: For otherwise, so are you also named. I know to what intent you hither come: You come to see your Loue, the Fayry Queen. And talke with her here in this silent place, Her nimble Fayries, and her selfe do vse Oft to repayre: and long it will not be, Ere she com hither: but thus much you must know You must not talke to her, as to a Queene Of earthly substance: for she is a pure And simple spirit, without Elements: Wherefore, without any mortall thing That may annoy her most immortall sense, You must goe, humbly creeping on your hands, Without your Doublet, Rapier, Cloke or Hose, Or any thing that may offend her nose. And see, see, yonder she comes; if you wil speake with her, You must doe as I tell you. Oh helpe me quickly; Come, Ratsbane, vncase, my loue is come. Great Queene, thou soueraigne of Pheanders heart, Vouchsafe a word vnto thy Mayden Knight, That bowes his guts vnto thy mighty face. Follow me this way. Helpe, Ratsbane, helpe, helpe. Help? why, where are you? I thought you had been in the hole by this time; Come, giue me your hand. You follow the Fayry Queene? Come, come, say nothing: weele goe home like fooles as we came. Come, my clothes, my clothes. Cods lid, clothes! Now we may go home worse fooles then we came. Sfoot, this cunning Rascall meanes to set vs a hay making. Sfoote, we are fitte for the Doggehouse, we are flayde already. Well, we may goe home with the naked truth. Its no matter, A mans a man, though hee haue but a hose on his head. Now friends and fellow Souldiours in iust Arms, Prepare your selues against the haughty foe, Who, as wee heare, marches not farre from hence. What we haue done, by force weele make it good, Or seale our bold attempts, with death and bloud. King, keepe your owne; maugre all opposition, If he come hither to demaund your right, And with his rebell troopes disturbe the peace Of what both gods and men haue made your own, Maintain the quarrell with your awfull power, Be it right or wrong; behaue your selfe like Ioue, And strike with thunder his base insolence: Discourse not what is done, nor how, nor when. Onely Kings wils are Lawes for other men. What tidings brings this sweating Messenger? My Lord, Prince Caradoc, returnd from Brittaine, Is with his Army marching hitherwards. He comes vnto his death. Now, Codigune, Banish al timorous thoughts: think what thou art; A King. That word is able to infuse Boldnesse, as infinite, as that we call The worlds first mouer. Why, the name of King Were able to create a man of stone, With more then animall courage, to inspire Dulnesse, with nerued resolution. Then, Codigune, like Atlas, on thy backe, Support thy Kingdomes Arch, vntill it cracke. March forward.