Dekker, Thomas · published 1636 · first performed or written 1631 [1619-1631] (Annals) comedy · Prince Charles's Men (first) (?) T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.83 · 509 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
he'll soon pick up his wits, let him but bleed Thus many ounces at one time; All day Could I drink these dear healths, yet ne'er be drunk. And carry it away most cleanly. Not a pin the worse; What might his father leave him? A great estate, Of some 300000 Crowns a year. Strange he's not begged, for fools are now grown An admirable Coxcomb! (dear; Let wonder pass, he's both a brave-Lord, and a golden Ass. I pray you hush all, a little hush, le fair Lady by he own vo unter disposition, has take a ting dat is of such a grand operation, it shall make a de stone for sleep. What, Noble Doctor, is the name of it? 'tis not your scurvy English Poppy, nor Mandragon, nor a ting so danger as Oppium, but 'tis de brave ting a de vorld, for knock a de brain asleep. I am glad she takes this rest. Peace, be gour it is snore and snore, two mile long; now if your grace vill please for procure Music, be restore as brave as de fish. Call for the Music. Makea no noise, but bring in de Fiddlers, and play sweet— Oh out upon this Doctor; hang him, does he think to cure dejected Ladies with Fiddlers— De grand French poo stopa de troat, pray void le Shambera. All, all part softly; peace Nurse, let her sleep. ay, ay, go out of her prospect, for she's not to be cured with a song. Baptista, see the door fast, watch that narrowly. For one friend to keep door for another, is the office now amongst gallants, common as the Law; I'll be your porter Sir. she does but slumber, Fiametta, Love. The Pisan Prince comes: daggers at my heart. Look up, I am not he, but Angelo? Ha! who names Angelo? Angelo himself, Who with one soot treads on the throat of death, Whilst tother steps to embrace thee, thus i'th' shape Of a French Doctor. Oh my life, my soul. Hear me. I me now not sick, I'll have no Physic, But what thyself shall give me. Let not joy confound our happiness, I am but dead, If it be known I am here. Thou shalt not hence. Be wise dear heart; see here the best of men, Faithful Baptista——— Oh, I love Baptista, 'cause he loves thee; But my Angelo I love 'bove kings. Madam you'll spoil, Unless you join with us in the safe plot Of our escape. Sweet Fiametta hear me. For you shall hence with us. Over ten worlds, But I'll not hence; my Angelo shall not hence, True love, like gold, is best being tried in fire; I'll defy Father, and a thousand deaths— for thee—— Undone, undone. At the Court gate, I see a jebbit already, to hang's both; Death! the Duke beats at the door. He shall come in; One frown at thee, my Tragedy shall begin; See Father— I told you that I heard— her tongue— See Father. Flo. What sweet girl?
nodes 1030–1091 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 18 of 30 in this edition
Length
509 words · 709 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.830 (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)
Hee'le soone pick up his witts, let him but bleede Thus many ownces at one time; All day Could I drinke these deare healthes, yet nere be drunke. And carry it away most cleanely. Not a pin the worse; What might his father leave him? A great estate, Of some 300000 Crownes a yeare. Strange hee's not begg'd, for fooles are now growne An admirable Cocks-combe! (deare; Let wonder passe, Hee's both a brave-Lord, and a golden Asse. I pray you hush all, a little hush, le faire Lady by hee owne vo unter disposition, has take a ting dat is of such a grand operation, it shall make a de stone for slepe. What, Noble Doctor, is the name of it? Tis not your fcurvie English Poppy, nor Mandragon, nor a ting so danger as Oppium, but tis de brave ting a de vorld, for knock a de braine asleepe. I am glad shee takes this rest. Peace, be gor it is snore and snore, two mile long; now if your grace vill please for procure Musick, be restore as brave as de fish. Call for the Musicke. Makea no noise, but bring in de Fidlers, and play sweet▪ Oh out upon this Doctor; hang him, does he thinke to cure dejected Ladies with Fidlers— De grand French poo stopa de troate, pray void le Shambera. All, all part softly; peace Nurse, let her sleepe. I, I, go out of her prospect, for shee's not to bee cur'd with a song. Baptista, see the doore fast, watch that narrowly. For one friend to keepe doore for another, is the office now amongst gallants, common as the Law; Ile bee your porter Sir. Shee does but slumber, Fiametta, Love. The Pisan Prince comes: daggers at my heart. Looke up, I am not hee, but Angelo? Ha! who names Angelo? Angelo himselfe, Who with one soote treads on the throat of death, Whilst t'other stepps to embrace thee, thus ith' shape Of a French Doctor. Oh my life, my soule. Heare me. I me now not sicke, Ile have no Phisicke, But what thy selfe shall give mee. Let not Ioy confound our happinesse, I am but dead, If it be knowne I am heere. Thou shalt not hence. Be wise deare heart; see here the best of men, Faithfull Baptista——— Oh, I love Baptista, Cause he loves thee; But my Angelo I love bove kings. Madam you'le spoile, Vnlesse you joyne with us in the safe plot Of our escape. Sweete Fyametta heare me. For you shall hence with us. Over ten worlds, But Ile not hence; my Angelo shall not hence, True love, like gold, is best being tried in fire; Ile defie Father, and a thousand deaths—for thee—— Vndone, vndone. At the Court gate, I see a Iebbit already, to hang's both; Death! the Duke beates at the doore. He shall come in; One frowne at thee, my Tragedie shall begin; See Father— I told you that I heard—her tongue— See Father. Flo. What sweete girle?