Cowley, Abraham · published 1638 · first performed or written 1633 [c.1633-1636] (Annals) pastoral T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.86 · 537 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
The good Gods forbid it; I turn Physician? My Parents brought me up more piously, Then that I should play booty with a sickness, Turn a consumption to men's purses, and Purge them, worse than their bodies, and set up An Apothecary's shop in private chambers, Live by revenue of closestools and urinals, Defer off sick men's health from day to day As if they went to law with their disease. No, I was borne for better ends, than to send away His Majesty's subjects to hell so fast, As if I were to share the stakes with Charon. Your wit errs much: For as the soul is nobler than the body, So its corruption asks a better medicine Then is applied to Gouts, Catarrhs, or Agues, And that is counsel. So then: I should be Your soul's Physician; why, I could talk out An hour or so, but then I want a cushion To thump my precepts into; but tell me 'pray, What name bears your disease? A fever, shepherd, but so far above An outward one, that the vicissitudes Of that may seem but warmth, and coolness only; This, flame, and frost. So; I understand you, You are a lover, which is by translation A fool, or a beast, for I'll define you; you're Partly Chamaeleon, partly Salamander, You're fed by th'air, and live i' the fire. Why did you never love? have you no softness, Nought of your mother in you? if that Sun Which scorched me, should cast one beam upon you. 'twould quickly melt the ice about your heart, And lend your eyes fresh streams. 'Faith, I think not; I have seen all your beauties of the Court, And yet was never ravished, never made A doleful Sonnet unto angry Cupid, Either to warm her heart, or else cool mine, And no face yet could ever wound me so, But that I quickly found a remedy. That were an art worth learning, and you need not Be niggard of your knowledge; See the Sun Though it have given this many thousand years Light to the world, yet is as big and bright As ere it was, and hath not lost one beam Of his first glory; then let charity Persuade you to instruct me, I shall be A very thankful scholar. I shall: for 'tis both easily taught and learned, Come sing away the day, &c. Mirth is the only physic, It is a way which I have much desired To cheat my sorrow with; and for that purpose Would fain turn shepherd, and in rural sports We are my life's remnant out; I would forget All things, my very name if it were possible. Pray let me learn it first. 'Tis Callidorus. Thank you; if you yourself chance to forget it Come but to me I'll do you the same courtesy, In the meanwhile make me your servant Sir, I will instruct you in things necessary For the creation of a Shepherd, and we two will laugh at all the world securely, And fling jests 'gainst the businesses of state Without endangering our ears. Come, come away, For 'tis but a folly To be melancholy, Let's live here whilst we may.
nodes 133–205 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 3 of 41 in this edition
Length
537 words · 705 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.861 (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)
The good Gods forbid it; J turne Physitian? My Parents brought me up more piously, Then that I should play booty with a sicknesse, Turne a consumption to mens purses, and Purge them, worse then their bodyes, and set up An Apothecaries shop in private chambers, Live by revenew of close-stooles and urinals, Deferre off sick mens health from day to day As if they went to law with their disease. No, I was borne for better ends, then to send away His Majesties subjects to hell so fast, As if I were to share the stakes with Charon. Your wit erres much: For as the soule is nobler then the body, So it's corruption askes a better medicine Then is applyed to Gouts, Catarrs, or Agues, And that is counsell. So then: I should bee Your soules Physitian; why, I could talke out An houre or so, but then I want a cushion To thump my precepts into; but tell me 'pray, What name beares your disease? A feaver, shepheard, but so farre above An outward one, that the vicissitudes Of that may seeme but warmth, and coolenesse only; This, flame, and frost. So; I understand you, You are a lover, which is by translation A foole, or a beast, for I'le define you; you're Partly Chamaeleon, partly Salamander, You're fed by th'ayre, and live i' the fire. Why did you never love? have you no softnesse, Nought of your mother in you? if that Sun Which scorched me, should cast one beame upon you. T'would quickly melt the ice about your heart, And lend your eyes fresh streames. 'Faith, I thinke not; I have seene all your beautyes of the Court, And yet was never ravisht, never made A dolefull Sonnet unto angry Cupid, Either to warme her heart, or else coole mine, And no face yet could ever wound me so, But that I quickly found a remedie. That were an art worth learning, and you need not Be niggard of your knowledge; See the Sunne Though it have given this many thousand yeares Light to the world, yet is as bigge and bright As e're it was, and hath not lost one beame Of his first glory; then let charity Perswade you to instruct me, I shall bee A very thankfull scholler. I shall: for 'tis both easily taught and learn'd, Come sing away the day, &c. Mirth is the only physick, It is a way which I have much desired To cheate my sorrow with; and for that purpose Would faine turne shepheard, and in rurall sports We are my lifes remnant out; I would forget All things, my very name if it were possible. Pray let me learne it first. 'Tis Callidorus. Thanke you; if you your selfe chance to forget it Come but to me I'le doe you the same curtesie, In the meane while make me your servant Sir, I will instruct you in things necessary For the creation of a Shepheard, and Wee two will laugh at all the world securely, And fling jests'gainst the businesses of state Without endangering our eares. Come, come away, For'tis but a folly To be melancholy, Let's live here whil'st we may.