Brome, Richard · published 1640 · first performed or written 1638 [1636-1638] (Annals) not in BritDrama · Salisbury Court T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.81 · 513 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
Then i'll tell you Sir, He cured a Country gentleman, that fell mad For spending of his land before he sold it: That is, 'twas sold to pay his debts: All went That way, for a dead horse, as one would say, He had not money left to buy his dinner, Upon that wholesale day. This was a cause, Might make a gentleman mad you'll say; and him It did, as mad as land less Squire could be. This Doctor by his art removed his madness, And mingled so much wit among his brains, That, by the overflowing of it merely, He gets and spends five hundred pound a year now, As merrily as any Gentleman In Darby-shire; I name no man. But this Was pretty well you'll say. My son's disease Grows not that way. There was a Lady mad, I name no Lady: but stark mad she was, As any in the Country, City, or almost In Court could be. How fell she mad? With study; Tedious and painful study: And for what Now can you think? For painting, or new fashions. I cannot think for the philosopher's stone. No, 'twas to find a way to love her husband, Because she did not, and her friends rebuked her. Was that so hard to find, if she desired it. She was seven years in search of it, & could not, Though she consumed his whole estate by it. 'twas he was mad then. No; he was not borne With wit enough to lose, but mad was she Until this Doctor took her into cure, And now she lies as lovingly on a flockbed With her own Knight, as she had done on down, With many others, but I name no parties, Yet this was well you'll say. Would all were well. Then sir, of Officers, and men of place, Whose senses were so numbed, they understood not Bribes from due fees, and fell on premunires, He has cured divers, that can now distinguish, And know both when, and how to take, of both; And grow most safely rich by't, t'other day He set the brains of an Attorney right, That were quite topsy-turvy overturned In a pitch o'er the Bar; so that (poor man) For many Moons, he knew not whether he Went on his heels or's head, till he was brought To this rare Doctor, now he walks again, As upright in his calling, as the boldest Amongst 'em. This was well you'll say. 'tis much. And then for horn mad Citizens my neighbours, He cures them by the dozens, and we live As gently with our wives, as Rams with Ewes. We do you say, were you one of his Patients. 'Slid he has almost catched me; No Sir no, I name no parties I, But wish you merry; I strain to make you so, and could tell forty Notable cures of his to pass the time Until he comes. But pray, has he the art To cure a husband's jealousy? Mine sir he did: 'Sfoot I am catched again.
nodes 62–130 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 2 of 44 in this edition
Length
513 words · 672 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.808 (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)
Then ile tell you Sir, He cur'd a Country gentleman, that fell mad For spending of his land before he sold it: That is, 'twas sold to pay his debts: All went That way, for a dead horse, as one would say, He had not money left to buy his dinner, Upon that whole-sale day. This was a cause, Might make a gentleman mad you'll say; and him It did, as mad as land lesse Squire could bee. This Doctor by his art remov'd his madnesse, And mingled so much wit among his braines, That, by the over-flowing of it meerely, He gets and spends five hundred pound a yeare now, As merily as any Gentleman In Darby-shire; I name no man. But this Was pretty well you'll say. My sonne's disease Growes not that way. There was a Lady mad, I name no Lady: but starke mad she was, As any in the Country, City, or almost In Court could be. How fell she mad? With study; Tedious and painfull study: And for what Now can you thinke? For painting, or new fashions. I cannot thinke for the Philosophers stone. No, twas to finde a way to love her husband, Because she did not, and her friends rebuk'd her. Was that so hard to find, if she desir'd it. She was seven years in search of it, & could not, Though she consum'd his whole estate by it. Twas he was mad then. No; he was not borne With wit enough to loose, but mad was she Untill this Doctor tooke her into cure, And now she lies as lovingly on a flockebed With her owne Knight, as she had done on downe▪ With many others, but I name no parties, Yet this was well you'l say. Would all were well. Then sir, of Officers, and men of place, Whose sences were so numm'd, they understood not Bribes from dew fees, and fell on premunires, He has cur'd diverse, that can now distinguish, And know both when, and how to take, of both; And grow most safely rich by't, tother day He set the braines of an Attorney right, That were quite topsie turvy overturn'd In a pitch ore the Barre; so that (poore man) For many Moones, he knew not whether he Went on his heeels or's head, till he was brought To this rare Doctor, now he walkets again, As upright in his calling, as the boldest Amongst 'hem. This was well you'l say. Tis much. And then for horne mad Citizens my neighbours, He cures them by the dozens, and we live As gently with our wives, as Rammes with Ewes. We doe you say, were you one of his Patients. 'Slid he has almost catch'd me; No Sir no, I name no parties I, But wish you merry; I straine to make you so, and could tell forty Notable cures of his to passe the time Untill he comes. But pray, has he the art To cure a husbands Iealousie? Mine sir he did: 'Sfoot I am catcht againe.