Puck was a reknowned shape-shifter. He's been a rough, hairy creature in many versions. One Irish story has him as an old man. He's also been pictured like a brownie or a hobbit. In a 1785 painting by William Blake, he looks like Pan from Greek mythology.
There had been a few who questioned my cybernetic alter ego self, RobinGDfellow, as to why I had chosen it to be. Blame it on Shakespeare. It's quite awhile back, and I was hardpressed to understand why Shakespeare, at that time, had to be such an enigmatic genius in stringing words. While my grasp of the English language was developing, Romeo & Juliet did nothing to inspire my examiners during the Finals back in the school days. And in utter desolation, I went to the school library with a vengeance; tearing up every Shakespeare's that existed within the walls of Knowledge Sanctum. That was when I picked up A Midsummer Night's Dream.
One of the most popular characters in English folklore of the last thousand years has been the faerie, goblin, devil or imp known by the name of Puck or Robin Goodfellow.The Welsh called him Pwca, which is pronounced the same as his Irish incarnation Phouka, Pooka or Puca.
There are other names in ancient languages that describe this being, with most carrying original meaning of a demon, devil or evil and malignant spirit. It is uncertain whether the original puca sprang from the imaginative minds of the Scandinavians, the Germans or the Irish, where these various incarnations seemed to be derived from.
Pouk was a typical medieval term for the devil. Langland had once called Hell a "Pouk's Pinfold." The Phouka was also sometimes pictured as a frightening creature with the head of an ass. Truly a devil to behold. The Welsh Pwca also did not match our modern conception of dainty tinkerbell fairies. According to Louise Imogen Guiney, a peasant drew the Pwca as "a queer little figure, long and grotesque, and looked something like a chicken half out of his shell".
In a 1841 painting by Richard Dadd, Puck looks like an innocent child.
Puck used his shape-shifting abilities to make mischief. He would turn into a horse and lead people on a wild ride, then dumping them in water. The Welsh Pwca would lead travellers with a lantern and then blow it out when they were at the edge of a cliff. Being misled by a Puck was known in the Midlands as being "pouk-ledden." This probably led to the birth of some phrase like being Pixy-led, which described a similar action on the part of the Somerset faeries known as pixies. Another expression for being lost is "Robin Goodfellow has been with you tonight." Reference like these can be found in texts as early as 1531.
Robin Goodfellow is one of the faeries known as hobgoblins or just hobs. The term Hob is short for the name Robin or Robert ("the goblin named Robin".) Robin itself was a medieval nickname for the devil. Contrary to popular belief, Robin Goodfellow was not only famous for shape-shifting and misleading travellers, he was also a helpful domestic sprite much like the brownies. He would clean houses and such in exchange for some cream or milk. However,if offered new clothes, he'd stop cleaning.
FAIRY: Either I mistake your shape and making quite, Or else you are that shrewd and knavish spriteCalled Robin Goodfellow. Are not you he that frights the maidens of the villagery, Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern, And bootless make the breathless housewife churn, And sometime make the drink to bear no barm,Mislead night-wanders, laughing at their harm? Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, You do their work, and they shall have good luck. Are you not he?
Puck takes form in Marvel Comic
PUCK: Thou speakest aright; I am that merry wanderer of the night. I jest to Oberon, and make him smile When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, Neighing in likeness of a filly foal; And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl In very likeness of a roasted crab, And when she drinks, against her lips I bob And on her withered dewlap pour the ale. The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me; Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough; And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh, And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear A merrier hour was never wasted there. -- A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act II, scene i
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