Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1611 (Annals) comedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T55 Fairies, fairy queens and enchanted desi · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T55: fairy, fairies, oberon, mopsus, queen, land, grace, babylon, mab, thestylis.
I told you Sir, they were red-hot with drinking, So full of valour, that they smote the air For breathing in their faces: beat the ground For kissing of their feet; yet always bending Towards their project: then I beat my Tabor, At which like vnbacked colts they pricked their ears, Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses As they smelled music, so I charmed their ears That Calfe-like, they my lowing followed, through Toothed briers, sharp firzes, pricking gosse, & thorns, Which entered their frail shins: at last I left them I' th' filthy mantled pool beyond your Cell, There dancing up to th' chins, that the fowl Lake Ore-stunck their feet. This was well done (my bird) Thy shape invisible retain thou still: The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither For stolen to catch these thieves. I go, I go. A Devil, a borne-Deuill, on whose nature Nurture can never stick: on whom my pains Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost, And, as with age, his body ouglier grows, So his mind cankers: I will plague them all, Even to roaring: Come, hang on them this line. Pray you tread softly, that the blind Mole may not hear a foot fall: we now are near his Cell. Monster, your Fairy, which you say is a harmless Fairy, Has done little better than played the lack with us. Monster, I do smell all horsepisse, at which My nose is in great indignation. So is mine. Do you hear Monster: If I should Take a displeasure against you: Look you. Thou wert but a lost Monster. Good my Lord, give me thy favour still, Be patiented, for the prize I'll bring thee too Shall hud wink this mischance: therefore speak softly, All's hushed as midnight yet. I, but to lose our bottles in the Pool. There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that Monster, but an infinite loss. That's more to me then my wetting: Yet this is your harmless Fairy, Monster. I will fetch off my bottle, Though I be o'er ears for my labour. Prithee (my King) be quiet. Seest thou here This is the mouth o' th' Cell: no noise, and enter: Do that good mischief, which may make this Island Thine own for ever, and I thy Caliban For aye thy foot-licker. Give me thy hand, I do begin to have bloody thoughts. O King Stephano, O Peer: O worthy Stephano, Look what a wardrobe here is for thee. Let it alone thou fool, it is but trash. Oh, ho, Monster: we know what belongs to a frippery, O King Stephano. Put off that gown (Trinculo) by this hand I'll have that gown. Thy grace shall have it. The dropsy drown this fool, what do you mean To dote thus on such luggage? let's alone And do the murder first: if he awake, From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches, Make us strange stuff.
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)
I told you Sir, they were red-hot with drinking, So full of valour, that they ſmote the ayre For breathing in their faces: beate the ground For kiſſing of their feete; yet alwaies bending Towards their proiect: then I beate my Tabor, At which like vnback't colts they prickt their eares, Aduanc'd their eye-lids, lifted vp their noſes As they ſmelt muſicke, ſo I charm'd their eares That Calfe-like, they my lowing follow'd, through Tooth'd briars, ſharpe firzes, pricking goſſe, & thorns, Which entred their fraile ſhins: at laſt I left them I' th' filthy mantled poole beyond your Cell, There dancing vp to th' chins, that the fowle Lake Ore-ſtunck their feet. This was well done (my bird) Thy ſhape inuiſible retaine thou ſtill: The trumpery in my houſe, goe bring it hither For ſtale to catch theſe theeues. I go, I goe. A Deuill, a borne-Deuill, on whoſe nature Nurture can neuer ſticke: on whom my paines Humanely taken, all, all loſt, quite loſt, And, as with age, his body ouglier growes, So his minde cankers: I will plague them all, Euen to roaring: Come, hang on them this line. Pray you tread ſoftly, that the blinde Mole may not heare a foot fall: we now are neere his Cell. Monſter, your Fairy, wc you ſay is a harmles Fairy, Has done little better then plaid the lacke with vs. Monſter, I do ſmell all horſe-piſſe, at which My noſe is in great indignation. So is mine. Do you heare Monſter: If I ſhould Take a diſpleaſure againſt you: Looke you. Thou wert but a loſt Monſter. Good my Lord, giue me thy fauour ſtil, Be patient, for the prize Ile bring thee too Shall hud winke this miſchance: therefore ſpeake ſoftly, All's huſht as midnight yet. I, but to looſe our bottles in the Poole. There is not onely diſgrace and diſhonor in that Monſter, but an infinite loſſe. That's more to me then my wetting: Yet this is your harmleſſe Fairy, Monſter. I will fetch off my bottle, Though I be o're eares for my labour. Pre-thee (my King) be quiet. Seeſt thou heere This is the mouth o' th Cell: no noiſe, and enter: Do that good miſcheefe, which may make this Iſland Thine owne for euer, and I thy Caliban For aye thy foot-licker. Giue me thy hand, I do begin to haue bloody thoughts. O King Stephano, O Peere: O worthy Stephano, Looke what a wardrobe heere is for thee. Let it alone thou foole, it is but traſh. Oh, ho, Monſter: wee know what belongs to a frippery, O King Stephano. Put off that gowne (Trinculo) by this hand Ile haue that gowne. Thy grace ſhall haue it. The dropſie drowne this foole, what doe you meane To doate thus on ſuch luggage? let's alone And doe the murther firſt: if he awake, From toe to crowne hee'l fill our skins with pinches, Make vs ſtrange ſtuffe.