Glapthorne, Henry · published 1640 · first performed or written 1636 [licensed for stage, Mar 12] (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · before the Court T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.71 · 499 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
Sealed with the seal at arms of our order, viz. Three Rooks volant in a field sanguine, two broken jugs the supporters, and a Twibill for the crest, and given the second day of this present month, at our mansion royal, or place of meeting in the long graveled walks in our usual fields. Well Master Doctor you'll remember me, And have an eye unto my nephew, I trust Her with you. Farewell sir. Doubt it not good sir Martine. Captain Pirke pray retire unto the brothers of our Society: entreat them to prepare again tomorrow, for My cosen Sconces enfeoffment. Upon compulsion sir, I should refuse, marry on fair entreaty I do fly, good and high fates look on you. Son Sconce (I'm bold to call you so) how does your at me? Indifferent sir, but yet I have not found That rare effect i'th' weapon salve you spoke of, Urinal I fear since it cured the two sergeants and their Yeomen, the virtue has been much extenuated. 'twas your ill dressing the weapon: give me your sword son, this is of the right salve the welsh Doctor makes, this shall save my credit. (Anoints the weapon.) Now Urinal take this weapon, lap it warm in linen clothes, and lock it in my son, your anguish son will soon be mitigated. I have a touch of it already sir. I have seen experience of this weapon salve, and by its most mysterious working known some men hurt, past the help of surgery recovered. Mark you that master Sconce, the gentleman may be believed. Yet I cannot With my laborious industry invent A reason why it should do this, and therefore Transcending natural causes, I conclude The use unlawful. He is unlawfully begotten sir, dares term it so, there was a touch for him cosen Fortress; I called him son of a whore, and he would take no notice of it. But pray sir, why should it be unlawful? 'cause Conscience and religion disallow In the recovery of our impaired healths, The assistance of a medicine made by charms, Or subtle spells of witchcraft. his mother was a witch, says this maid, so there was another touch for him cosen Fortress, son of a witch, but he understands not that neither. Conceive you this to be compounded so? I'll prove it master Doctor. The proof of a pudding is the eating, in your teeth sir, a pudding in his teeth: you know what I mean cosen Fortress, another touch for him, but als one, he has wit in's anger, and will not understand me. If he durst blunder for it Cosen Sconce. Yet to avoid a tedious argument, Since our contention's only for discourse, And to instruct my knowledge, pray tell me, A me you not tha this same salve will cure At any distance (as if the person hurt Should be at York) the weapon, dressed at London, On which his blood is. All this is granted 'twill.
before the Court;Phoenix/Cockpit;Indoor Professional
Genre (British Drama)
comedy
Play type
Boys Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 1148 · TCP A01773 · DEEP 980
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 788–829 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 20 of 40 in this edition
Length
499 words · 656 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.712 (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)
Seald with the seale at armes of our order, viz. Three Rooks volant in a field sanguine, two broken jugs the supporters, and a Twibill for the erest, and given the second day of this present month, at our mansion royall, or place of meeting in the long gravield walkes in our usuall fields. Well Master Doctor you'l remember me, And have an eye unto my nephew, I trust Her with you. Farewell sir. Doubt it not good sir Martime. Captaine Pirke pray retire unto the brothers of our Society: entreat them to prepare againe tomorrow, for My cosen Sconces enseasement. Upon compulsion sir, I should refuse, marry on faire entreaty I doe flye, good and high fates looke on you. Sonne Sconce (I'm bold to call you so) how do's your at me? Indifferent sir, but yet I have not found That rare effect ith' weapon salve you spoake of, Vrinall I feare since it cur'd the two serjeants and their Yeomen, the vertue has beene much extenuated. Twas your ill dressing the weapon: give me your sword sonne, this is of the right salve the welsh Doctor makes, this shall save my credit. (Annoints the weapon.) Now Vrinall take this weapon, lap it warme in linnen cloaths, and locke it in my sonne, your anguish sonne will soone be mitigated. I have a touch of it already sir. I have seene experience of this weapon salve, and by its most mysterious working knowne some men hurt, past the helpe of surgery recover'd. Marke you that master Sconce, the gentleman may be believ'd. Yet I cannot With my laborious industry invent A reason why it should doe this, and therefore Transcending naturall causes, I conclude The use unlawfull. He is unlawfully begotten sir, dares tearme it so, there was a touch for him cosen Fortresse; I cald him sonne of a whore, and he would take no notice of it. But pray sir, why should it be unlawfull? Cause Conscience and religion disallow In the recovery of our impair'd healths, The assistance of a medicine made by charmes, Or subtle spells of witchcraft. his mother was a witch, saies this maide, so there was another touch for him cosen Fortresse, son of a witch, but he understands not that neither. Conceive you this to be compounded so? Ile prove it master Doctor. The proofe of a pudding is the eating, in your teeth sir, a pudding in his teeth: you know what I meane cosen Fortresse, another touch for him, but al's one, he has wit in's anger, and wil not understand me. If he durst blunder for it Cosen Sconce. Yet to avoide a tedious argument, Since our contention's only for discourse, And to instruct my knowledge, pray tell me, A you not tha this same salve will cure At any distance (as if the person hurt Should be at Yorke) the weapon, dres'd at London, On which his blood is. All this is granted 'twill.