Lower, William · published 1639 · first performed or written 1639 [c.1622-1639] (Annals) not in BritDrama T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.77 · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
I'll not be denied, Your friends I care for too— sure Leda's swans Were black compared to this more whiter skin, No silk so soft— aside Now I have done with you. As I have been your Surgeon be mine too, Would he did know my wound— all aside. To speak my thanks Would come to short by far of what I think; I'm sorry Madam your so precious salve Should wasted be on such a wretch as I, It better were reserved for nobler uses. Now Sir you must receive too from my hand, This plaster and your cure. I kiss those hands That deign me such a favour— dresses him. You must feel The virtue of my salve too. As we have The bounty of your noble disposition, For both our humble thanks— dresses him, Come have you done, You dwell too long there and neglect a cure Worth all the rest, Rapinus' heart is sick, And craves a plaster, wounded by your love, A patient in your care to be preferred Before a thousand captives. May be so, But yet repent not charitable works Upon the poor distressed, if gentle nature Move not your heart to this, yet let the thought That they may do good service in your wars, (Since you yourself have seen the valour tried) Work that effect upon you. You plead strongly, And I cannot repugn your argument; But are all Ladies so compassionate And pitiful as you? I think they are not. They are indeed, cur sex hates cruelty. Then you should hate cruelty in love. That's in another nature. Come sit down, How long have you professed surgery? I never saw you practise it before. I learned it from a child. 'Tis a fine art And well it doth become a Lady's hand Gently to touch a wound, but I forgot To ask my prisoners what and when they were, And to what place they traveled, pray demand. I will Sir— this suits well with my desire— aside Fair Sir may I request to know your state, Your name and country, whence you come and where Your journey lay when this captivity Befell you on your travel? Courteous Lady, You first demand my state, I can resolve you In these two words; 'tis poor and miserable, Made so by fortune's malice, and my stars. My name I humbly crave I may conceal, My Country is Damascus, and therein As in a book you may read out my story; Have you not heard the fall of that brave City? Yes, and the fame of that more braver Prince Admired Amandus, I believe you have Some near relation to him. Yes, in fortune I have indeed, for I suppose our sufferings Are much alike. So are your names and natures; I make no question, if they were revealed, But I have found enough. He will not tell His name it seems
nodes 724–797 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 14 of 46 in this edition
Length
488 words · 607 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.773 (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)
I'le not be deny'd, Your friends I care for too—sure Laedas swannes Were black compar'd to this more whiter skie, No silke so soft—aside Now I have done with you. As I have beene your Surgeon be mine too, Would he did know my wound—all aside. To speake my thankes Would come to short by farre of what I thinke; I'm sorry Madam your so prtious salve Should wasted be on such a wretch as I, It better were reserv'd for nobler uses. Now Sir you must receive too from my hand, This plaister and your cure. I kisse those hands That daigne me such a favour—dresses him. You must feele The vertue of my salve too. As we have The bounty of your noble disposition, For both our humble thankes—dresses him, Come have you done, You dwell too long there and neglect a cure Worth all the rest, Rapinus heart is sick, And craves a plaister, wounded by your love, A patient in your care to be preferr'd Before a thousand captives. May be so, But yet repent not charitable workes Vpon the poore distress'd, if gentle nature Move not your heart to this, yet let the thought That they may doe good service in your warres, (Since you your selfe have seene the valour tri'd) Worke that effect upon you. You plead strongly, And I cannot repugne your argument; But are all Ladies so compassionate And pittifull as you? I thinke they are not. They are indeed, cur sex hates cruelty. Then you should hate cruelty in love. That's in another nature. Come sit downe, How long have you professed surgery? I never saw you practise it before. I learnt it from a child. 'Tis a fine art And well it doth become a Ladies hand Gentlie to touch a wound, but I forgate To aske my prisoners what and when they were, And to what place they travell'd, pray demand. I will Sir—this suites well with my desire—aside Faire Sir may I request to know your state, Your name and countrey, whence you come and where Your journey lay when this captivity Befel you on your ? Courteous Lady, You first demand my state, I can resolve you In these two words; 'tis poore and miserable, Made so by fortunes malice, and my starres. My name I humbly crave I may conceale, My Country is Damascus, and therein As in a booke you may reade out my story; Have you not heard the fall of that brave City? Yes, and the same of that more braver Prince Admir'd Amandus, I beleeve you have Some neere relation to him. Yes, in fortune I have indeed, for I suppose our sufferings Are much alike. So are your names and natures; I make no question, if they were reveal'd, But I have found enough. He will not tell His name it seemes