Suffolk his axe did ply; Upon Saint Crispin's Day O when shall English men (1606) 70 80 90 100 NYMPHIDIA: THE COURT OF FAERY MICHAEL DRAYTON [A mock epic, in which Drayton playfully mingles the fairy lore of the romances with the classical mythology of earlier literature. A part of the story, relating certain adventures of Oberon and Puck, is omitted here.] Old Chaucer doth of Thopas tell, A later third of Dowsabel, With such poor trifles playing: Another sort there be, that will As they were wedded to them: 10 No tales of them their thirst can slake, So much delight therein they take, And some strange thing they fain would make, Knew they the way to do them. Then since no Muse hath been so bold, Those elvish secrets to unfold, Jove prosper my proceeding! And thou Nymphidia, gentle Fay, 3 Either of modern or ancient poets. 20 noon, Whence lies a way up to the moon, And thence the fairy can as soon Pass to the earth below it. The walls of spiders' legs are made, It curiously that builded; 40 50 Descendeth for his pleasure; And Mab, his merry Queen, by night Bestrides young folks that lie upright1 (In elder times the Mare that hight),2 Which plagues them out of measure. Hence shadows, seeming idle shapes, Of little frisking elves and apes, To earth do make their wanton scapes, As hope of pastime hastes them; Which maids think on the hearth they see, When fires well-near consumèd be, There dancing hayes by two and three, Just as their fancy casts them. 60 Of one of his own fairy crew, Too well (he feared) his queen that knew, His love but ill requiting. 80 Pigwiggen was this fairy knight, Which made King Oberon suspect And could have wished him starvèd.9 Pigwiggen gladly would commend Some token to Queen Mab to send, If sea or land him aught could lend, Were worthy of her wearing. 90 At length this lover doth devise And to the Queen a letter writes, Of love, she would be pleasèd And have their poor hearts easèd. When by Tom Thumb, a fairy page, It secretly to carry: 100 Which done, the Queen her maids doth Hop, and Mop, and Drap so clear, Her special maids of honor; Upon a grasshopper they got, A cobweb over them they throw, 160 At length one chanced to find a nut, There scattered by a squirrel, Let Oberon be ne'er so mad, 6 hautbois. Oboe. |