Shakespeare, William / Fletcher, John · published 1634 · first performed or written 1613 [1613-1614] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.80 · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
Hoa there Doctor. Yes in the way of cure. But first by your leave I'th' way of honesty. That's but a niceness, Ne'er cast your child away for honesty; Cure her first this way, then if she will be honest, She has the path before her. Thank ye Doctor. Pray bring her in And let's see how she is. I will, and tell her Her Palamon stays for her: But Doctor, Me thinkes you are i'th' wrong still. go, go: you Fathers are fine Fools: her honesty? And we should give her physic till we find that: Why, do you think she is not honest Sir? How old is she? She's eighteen. She may be, But that's all one, 'tis nothing to our purpose, What ere her Father says, if you perceive Her mood inclining that way that I spoke of Videlicet, the way of flesh, you have me. Yet very well Sir. Please her appetite And do it home, it cures her ipso facto, The melancholy humour that infects her. I am of your mind Doctor. You'll find it so; she comes, pray honour her. Come, your Love Palamon stays for you child, And has done this long hour, to visit you. I thank him for his gentle patience, He's a kind Gentleman, and I am much bound to him, Did you ne'er see the horse he gave me? Yes. How do you like him? He's a very fair one. You never saw him dance? No. I have often. He dances very finely, very comely, And for a jig, come cut and long tail to him, He turns ye like a Top. That's fine indeed. he'll dance the Morris twenty mile an hour, And that will founder the best hobby-horse (If I have any skill) in all the parish, And gallops to the turn of Light a'love, What think you of this horse? Having these virtues I think he might be brought to play at Tennis. Alas that's nothing. Can he write and read too. A very fair hand, and casts himself th'accounts Of all his hay and provender: That Hostler Must rise betime that cousin's him; you know The Chestnut Mare the Duke has? Very well. She is horribly in love with him, poor beast, But he is like his master coy and scornful. What dowry has she? Some two hundred Bottles, And twenty strike of Oas; but hee'l ne're have h He lisps in's neighing able to entice A Miller's Mare, Hl be the death of her. What stuff she utters? Make curtsy, here your love comes. Pretty soul How do ye? that's a fine maid, there's a curtsy. Yours to command i'th' way of honesty; How far is't now toth' end o'th' world my Masters? Why a day's journey wench. Will you goe with m? What shall we do there wench? Why play at stool ball. What is there else to do?
nodes 2708–2785 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 42 of 48 in this edition
Length
486 words · 661 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.804 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T3 · seed 44: T4 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Hoa there Doctor. Yes in the waie of cure. But first by your leave I'th way of honestie. That's but a nicenesse, Nev'r cast your child away for honestie; Cure her first this way, then if shoe will be honest, She has the path before her. Thanke yee Doctor. Pray bring her in And let's see how shee is. I will, and tell her Her Falamn staies for her: But Doctor, Me thinkes you are i'th wrong still. oe, goe: you Fathers are fine Fooles: her honesty? And we should give her physicke till we finde that: Why, doe you thinke she is not honest Sir? How old is she? She's eighteene. She may be, But that's all one, tis nothing to our purpose, What ere her Father saies, if you perceave Her moode inclining that way that I spoke of Videlicet, the way of flesh, you have me. Yet very well Sir. Please her appetite And doe it home, it cures her ips facto, The mellencholly humour that infects her. I am of your minde Doctor. You'l finde it so; she comes, pray honour her. Come, your Love Palamon staies for you childe, And has done this long houre, to visite you. I thanke him for his genle patience, He's a kind Gentleman, and I am much bound to him, Did you nev'r see the horse he gave me? Yes. How doe you like him? He's a very faire one. You never saw him dance? No. I have often. He daunces very finely, very comely, And for a Iigge, come cut and long taile to him, He turnes ye like a Top. That's fine indeede. Hee'l dance the Morris twenty mile an houre, And that will founder the best hobby-horse (If I have any skill) in all the parish, And gallops to the turne of Light a'love, What thinke you of this horse? Having these vertues I thinke he might be brought to play at Tennis. Alas that's nothing. Can he write and reade too. A very faire hand, and casts himselfe th'accounts Of all his hay and provender: That Hostler Must rise betime that cozens him; you know The Chestnut Mare the Duke has? Very well. She is horribly in love with him, poore beast, But he is like his master coy and scornefull. What dowry has she? Some two hundred Bottles, And twenty strike of Oas; but hee'l ne're have h He lispes in's neighing able to entice A Millars Mare, Hl be the death of her. What stuffe she utters? Make curtsie, here your love comes. Pretty soule How doe ye? that's a fine maide, ther's a curtsie. Yours to command ith way of honestie; How far is't now to'th end o'th world my Masters? Why a daies Iorney wench. Will you goe with m? What shall we doe there wench? Why play at stoole ball. What is there else to doe?