Randolph, Thomas · published 1638 · first performed or written 1630 [licensed for stage, Nov 25] (Annals) moral · King's Revels Company unassigned nearest T3 Sickness, physic and doctors · 456 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
Not yet stirred? 'Tis done of mere contempt, he will not now Be angry, to express his scorn of me. 'Tis above patience this, insufferable. Proclaim me coward, if I put up this! Dotard you will be angry, will you not? To see how strange a course fond wrath doth go! You will be angry 'cause I am not so. ay, can endure no longer, if your spleen Lie in your breech, thus I will kick it up.- Alpha. Beta. Gamma. Delta. Epsylon. Zeta. Eta. Theta. Iota. Kappa. Lamda▪ Mu. Nu. Xi. Omicron. Pi. Ro. Sigma. Tau. Vpsilon. Phi. Chi. Psi. Omega. How? what contempt is this? An antidote Against the poison, Anger: 'twas prescribed A Roman Emperor, that on every injury Repeated the Greek Alphabet, that being done His anger too was over. This good rule I learned from him, and Practise. Not yet angry? Still will you vex me? I will practise too? Aleph. Beth. Gimel. What new Alphabet Is this? The Hebrew Alphabet, that I use A second remedy. O my Torment! still? Are not your Buttocks angry with my toes? For aught I feel your toes have more occasion For to be angry with my Buttocks. Well, I'll try your Physic for the third assault; And exercise the patience of your nose. A. B. C. D. E. F. G. H. I. K. L. M. N. O. P. Q. R. S. T. V. W. X. Y. Z. Are you not angry now? Now sir, why now? Now you have done. O 'tis a mere plot this, To jeer my tameness: will no sense of wrong Waken the lethargy of a coward's soul? Will not this rouse her ●…rom her dead sleep, nor this? Why should I sir be angry; if I suffer An injury, it is no guilt of mine; No, let it trouble them, that do the wrong; Nothing but peace approaches innocence. A bitterness overflows me; my eyes flame, My blood boyles in me, all my faculties Of soul and body move in a disorder; His patience hath so tortured me: Sirrah villain I will dissect thee with my rapiers point; Rip up each vein, and sinew of my storque, Anatomize him, searching every entrail, To see if nature, when she made this ass, This suffering ass; did not forget to give him Some gall! Put it up good Orgylus, Let him not glory in so brave a death, As by your hand; it stands not with your honour To slain your rapier in a coward's blood. The Lybian Lions in their noble rage Will pray on Bulls, or mate the Unicorn; But trouble not the painted butterfly; Ants crawl securely by him. 'Tis intolerable! Would thou wert worth the kill.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Not yet stirr'd? 'Tis done of meere contempt, he will not now Be angry, to expresse his scorne of me. 'Tis above patience this, insufferable. Proclaime me coward, if I put up this! Dotard you will be angry, will you not? To see how strange a course fond wrath doth goe! You will be angry 'cause I am not so. I, can endure no longer, if your spleene Lye in your breech, thus I will kick it up.- Alpha. Beta. Gamma. Delta. Epsylon. Zeta. Eta. Theta. Iota. Kappa. Lamda▪ Mu. Nu. Xi. Omicron. Pi. Ro. Sigma. Tau. Vpsilon. Phi. Chi. Psi. Omega. How? what contempt is this? An antidote Against the poison, Anger: 'twas prescrib'd A Roman Emperour, that on every injury Repeated the Greek Alphabet, that being done His anger too was over. This good rule I learn'd from him, and Practise. Not yet angry? Still will you vexe me? I will practise too? Aleph. Beth. Gimel. What new Alphabet Is this? The Hebrew Alphabet, that I use A second remedy. O my Torment! still? Are not your Buttocks angry with my toes? For ought I feele your toes have more occasion For to be angry with my Buttocks. Well, I'le try your Physick for the third assault; And exercise the patience of your nose. A. B. C. D. E. F. G. H. I. K. L. M. N. O. P. Q. R. S. T. V. W. X. Y. Z. Are you not angry now? Now sir, why now? Now you have done. O 'tis a meere plot this, To jeere my tamenesse: will no sense of wrong Waken the lethargy of a cowards soule? Will not this rowse her rom her dead sleepe, nor this? Why should I sir be angry; if I suffer An injury, it is no guilt of mine; No, let it trouble them, that doe the wrong; Nothing but peace approaches innocence. A bitternesse o'reflows me; my eyes flame, My blood boyles in me, all my faculties Of soule and body move in a disorder; His patience hath so tortur'd me: Sirra villain I will dissect thee with my rapiers point; Rip up each veine, and sinewe of my storque, Anatomize him, searching every entraile, To see if nature, when she made this asse, This suffering asse; did not forget to give him Some gall! Put it up good Orgylus, Let him not glory in so brave a death, As by your hand; it stands not with your honour To stain your rapier in a cowards blood. The Lybian Lions in their noble rage Will prey on Bulls, or mate the Vnicorne; But trouble not the painted butterflye; Ants crawle securely by him. 'Tis intollerable! Would thou wert worth the killing.