Sicily and Naples, or The Fatal Union · chunk 31 of 38
Harding, Samuel · published 1640 · first performed or written 1640 (Annals) not in BritDrama T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.88 · 482 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
Which you had sealed ere this, had not this Lady here interrupted it. How? your passion would not have permitted you, To have o'er viewed what you consented too; This I knew, as likewise how dangerous it Would have been to the state, if he had fallen. Again my own Ursini:— Charintha, pardon our errors, we will deserve it, By the future love, and honours we will throw On our Valenzo,— here take my signer Fetch 'em to Court. You are noble. Ursini Wait on her to the Castle. You honour me. Oh how near were we destruction. Reason sit still enthroned in thine own state, 'tis passion only ruins Kings, not fate. Hold up, hold up Sir, the Ladies are coming this way,— for shame,— God's me, they're here; why d'ye tremble so Sir? A violent fit o'th' ague; oh! oh! oh! have me to bed gently, gently, or I shall scatter all my limbs; Discredited for ever, (here take this staff Sir)— have I boasted your strength to them?— fortified you for th' encounter, and you fail me thus?— undone, undone! Oh! oh! oh! for half a dozen of night caps. Here Sir, on with 'em; they're somewhat dirty, they'll keep you the warmer;— now shall I be called mountebank; quacksalver, Pisspot-peeper: and all the ugly mangy names can be invented.— come in, come in.— 'Twill be a Scene of modest mirth, Ladies. The Physician has cooled him. Why Sir, you won't disgrace me? go towards 'em. Some fire, some fire;— cold, cold, cold, cold. Here, here, on with my gown:— this cap, so, so. Ladies, we'll take leave to be bold here to vex him. How d'ye my Lord? We are come here to await your pleasure. The very thought on't has cast him into a cold sweat. Oh! oh! Now for fifty virgins. A monopoly of women. Hey, for a wench, for a wench, to bumfiddle now; Ah! ha! Oh! ho! oh! doye remember you'd play the fool in my gown, and cap excellently. Well said Doctor. To him Doctor. Then a noise of Musicians would do rarely. Look he's nodding. My Lord you intend no abuse to us? Make us hazard our credits for nothing? More clothes;— why hoe there, on my feet I say. He's dreaming. Fast, fast asleep, so, so, this charm lasts till Midnight, and then he wakes. 'Twill be good sport to see him then— Dance up and down the Court like the ghost of old Hippocrates. You must not expose him to the public view. Mr Doctor you're sufficiently revenged, this is enough for you to boast on when you come i'th' University. This, and the rare cures I've done upon you two shall be my theme.— Good night.— Ladies I'm your servant.— My doughty placket-hunter lie thee there, and e'en awake when thy stomach serves thee; tomorrow morning I'm for Padua.—
University/Inns of Court;Closet/Unacted;Nonprofessional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 1153 · TCP A02629 · DEEP 986
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 1937–1987 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 31 of 38 in this edition
Length
482 words · 695 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.875 (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)
Which you had ſeal'd ere this, had not this Lady here interrupted it. How? your paſſion would not have permitted you, To have o're view'd what you conſented too; This I knew, as likewiſe how dangerous it Would have beene to the ſtate, if he had fall'n. Againe my owne Ʋrſini:— Charintha, pardon our errours, we will deſerve it, By the future love, and honours we will throw On our Valenzo, — here take my ſigner Fetch 'em to Court. You are noble. Ʋrſini Waite on her to the Caſtle. You honour mee. Oh how neere were we deſtruction. Reaſon ſit ſtill enthron'd in thine owne ſtate, T'is paſſion onely ruines Kings, not fate. Hold up, hold up Sir, the Ladies are comming this way,— for ſhame,—God's mee, they'r here; why do'e tremble ſo Sir? A violent fit o'th ague; oh! oh! oh! have mee to bed gently, gently, or I ſhall ſcatter all my limbes; Diſcredited for ever, (here take this ſtaffe Sir)— have I boaſted your ſtrength to them? — fortifi'd you forth' incounter, and you faile me thus? — undone, undone! Oh! oh! oh! for halfe a dozen of night caps. Here Sir, on with 'em; they'r ſomewhat durty, they'll keepe you the warmer; — now ſhall I be call'd Mountebanke; Quackeſalver, Piſpot-peeper: and all the ugly mangy names can be invented.— come in, come in.— 'Twill be a Scene of modeſt mirth, Ladies. The Phyſitian has cool'd him. Why Sir, you won't diſgrace mee? go towards 'em. Some fire, ſome fire; —cold, cold, cold, cold. Here, here, on with my gowne: —this cap, ſo, ſo. Ladies, we'le take leave to be bold here to vexe him. How do'e my Lord? We are come here to await your pleaſure. The very thought on't has caſt him into a cold ſweat. Oh! oh! Now for fifty virgins. A monopoly of women. Hey, for a wench, for a wench, to bumfiddle now; Ah! ha! Oh! ho! oh! Do'e remember you'd play the foole in my gowne, and cap excellently. Well ſaid Doctour. To him Doctour. Then a noyſe of Muſitians would do rarely. Looke he's nodding. My Lord you intend no abuſe to us? Make us hazzard our credits for nothing? More clothes; — why hoe there, on my feete I ſay. He's dreaming. Faſt, faſt a ſleepe, ſo, ſo, this charme laſt's till Midnight, and then hee wakes. 'Twill be good ſport to ſee him then— Dance up and downe the Court like the ghoſt of old Hippocrates. You muſt not expoſe him to the publike view. Mr Doctour you're ſufficiently reveng'd, this is enough for you to boaſt on when you come i'th Univerſity. This, and the rare cures I've done upon you two ſhall be my theame.—Good night.— Ladies I'me your ſervant. — My doughty placket-hunter lye thee there, and e'ne awake when thy ſtomacke ſerves thee; to morrow morning I'me for Padua. —