Massinger, Philip · published 1639 · first performed or written 1624 [1624-1625] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Globe T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.85 · 538 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
And so perhaps they are. And therefore be not curious to learn that Which known must make you hate me. Think not so, I am yours in right and wrong, not shall you find A verbal friendship in me, but an active, And here I vow, I shall no sooner know What the disease is, but if you give leave I will apply a remedy, is it madness? I am familiarly acquainted with a deep read man That can with charms and herbs Restore you to your reason, or suppose You are bewitched, he with more potent spells And magical rites shall cure you, is't heavens anger? With penitence and sacrifice appease it, Beyond this, there is nothing that I can Imagine dreadful, in your fame and fortunes You are secure, your impious son removed to That rendered you suspected to the state, And your fair daughter. Oh press me no farther. Are you wrung there? why what of her? hath she Made shipwreck of her honour, or conspired Against your life? or sealed a contract with The devil of hell, for the recovery of her young Inamorato? None of these, And yet what must increase the wonder in you Being Innocent in herself, she hath wounded me, But where inquire not. Yet I know not how I am persuaded from my confidence Of your vowed love to me, to trust you with My dearest secret, pray you chide me for it, But with a kind of pity, not insulting On my calamity. Forward. This same daughter. What is her fault? She is too fair to me. a! how is this? And I have looked upon her More than a father should, and languish to Enjoy her as a husband. Heaven forbid it, And this is all the comfort you can give me, Where are your promisd aids, your charms, your herbs? Your deep read scholar, spells, and magic rites? Can all these disenchant me? no, I must be My own Physician, and upon myself Practise a desperate cure. Do not contemn me, Enjoin me what you please with any hazard, I'll undertake it, what means have you practiced To quench this hellish fire? All I could think on, But to no purpose, and yet sometimes absence Does yield a kind of intermission to The fury of the fit. See her no more then. 'tis my last refuge, and 'twas my intent And still 'tis, to desire your help. Command it. Thus then, you have a fort of which you are The absolute Lord, whither I pray you bear her: And that the sight of her may not again Nourish those flames, which I feel something lessened, By all the ties of friendship I conjure you And by a solemn oath you must confirm it, That though my now calmed passions should rage higher Than ever heretofore, and so compel me Once more to wish to see her; though I use Persuasions mixed with threatenings; nay add to it That I this failing should with hands held up thus Kneele at your feet, and bathe them with my tete, Prayers or curses, vows or imprecations Only to look upon her though at distance, You still must be obdurate.
nodes 1832–1906 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 27 of 37 in this edition
Length
538 words · 678 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.848 (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)
And so perhaps they are. And therefore be not curious to learne that Which knowne must make you hate me. Thinke not so, I am yours in right and wrong, not shall you finde A verball friendship in me, but an active, And here I vow, I shall no sooner know What the disease is, but if you give leave I will apply a remedy, is it madnesse? I am familiarly acquainted with a deepe read man That can with charmes aad hearbs Restore you to your reason, or suppose You are bewitch'd, he with more potent spels And magicall rites shall cure you, is't heavens anger? With penitence and sacrifice appease it, Beyond this, there is nothing that I can Imagine dreadfull, in your fame and fortunes You are secure, your impious sonne removd to That rendred you suspected to the state, And your faire daughter. Oh presse me no farther. Are you wrung there? why what of her? hath he Made shipwracke of her honour, or conspird Against your life? or seald a contract with The divell of hell, for the recovery of her young Inamorato? None of these, And yet what must increase the wonder in you Being Innocent in her selfe, she hath wounded me, But where enquire not. Yet I know not how I am perswaded from my confidence Of your vowd love to me, to trust you with My dearest secret, pray you chide me for it, But with a kind of pity, not insulting On my calamity. Forward. This same daughter. What is her fault? She is too faire to me. a! how is this? And I have lookd upon her More than a father should, and languish to Enjoy her as a husband. Heaven forbid it, And this is all the comfort you can give me, Where are your promisd ad, your charm, your herbs? Your deepe read scholler, spels, and magicke rites? Can all these disenchau me? no, I must be My owne Physitian, and upon my selfe Practice a desperate cure. Doe not conteme, Injoyne me what you please with any hazzard, Ile undertake it, what meanes have you practis To quench this hellish fire? All I could thinke on, But to no purpose, and yet sometimes absence Does yeeld a kinde of intermission to The fury of the fit. See her no more then. Tis my last refuge, and twas my intent And still tis, to desire your helpe. Command it. Thus then, you have a fort of which you are The absolute Lord, whither I pray you beare her: And that the sight of her may not againe Nourish those flames, which I feele something lessend, By all the ties of friendship I conjure you And by a solemne oath you must confirme it, That though my now calmd passions should rage higher Then ever heretofore, and so compell me Once more to wish to see her; though I use Perswasions mixd with threatnings; nay adde to it That I this fayling should with hands held up thus Kneele at your feet, and bathe them with my tete, Prayers or curses, vowes or imprecations Onely to looke upon her though at distance, You still must be obdurate.