The Magnetic Lady, or Humors Reconciled · chunk 5 of 45
Jonson, Ben · published 1640 · first performed or written 1632 [licensed for stage, Oct 12] (Annals) comedy · King's Men 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.
I, she chimes, she chimes, Saw you the Doctor Rut, the house Physician? He's sent for too. To Council?' time ye were there. Make haste, and give it a round quick dispatch: That we may go to dinner betimes, Parson: And drink a health, or two more, to the business. This is a strange put-off! a reverend youth, You use him most surreverently me thinks! What? call you him? Palate Please? or Parson Palate? All's one, but shorter! I can gi'you his Character. He, is the Prelate of the Parish, here; And governs all the Dames; appoints the cheer; Writes down the bills of fare; pricks all the Guests; Makes all the matches and the marriage feasts Within the ward; draws all the parish will; Designs the Legacies; and stroke the Gillss Of the chief Mourners; And (who ever lacks) Of all the kindred, he hath first his blacks. Thus holds he weddings up, and burials, As his main tithing; with the Gossip's stalls, Their pewes; He's top still, at the public mess; Comforts the widow, and the fatherless, In funeral Sack! Sits 'bove the Alderman! For of the Ward-mote Quest, he better can, The mystery, than the Levitick Law: That piece of Clark-ship doth his Vestry awe He is as he conceives himself, a fine Well furnished, and apparaled Divine. Who made this EPIGRAM, you? Not, a great Clerk As any'is of his bulk. (Ben: Ionson) made it. But what's the other Character, DOCTOR Rut? The same man made 'em both: but his is shorter, And not in rhyme, but blanks. I'll tell you that, too. Rutilio is a young Physician to the family: That, letting God alone, ascribes to nature Moore than her share; licentious in discourse, And in his life a professed Voluptary; The slave of money, a Buffoon in manners; Obscene in language; which he vents for wit; Is saucy in his Logicks, and disputing, Is any thing but civil, or a man. See here they are! and walking with my Lady, In consultation, afore the door; We will slip in, as if we saw 'em not. I, 'tis his fault, she's not bestowed, My brother Interests. Who, old Sir Moth? He keeps of all her Suitors, keeps the portion, Still in his hands: and will not part withal, On any terms. Hinc illae lachrymae; Thence flows the cause o'the main grievance. That It is a main one! how much is the portion? Not petty sum. But sixteen thousand pound. He should be forced, Madam, to lay it down. When is it payable? When she is married. Mary her, marry her, Madam. Get her married. Lose not a day, an hour— Not a minute. Pursue your project real. Mr. Compass, Advised you, too. He is the perfect Instrument, Your Ladyship should sail by. Now, Mr. Compass Is a fine witty man; I saw him go in, now. Is he gone in? Yes, and a Feather with him, He seems a Soldier. Some new Suitor, Madam.
nodes 149–222 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 5 of 45 in this edition
Length
499 words · 738 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.714 (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, ſhe chimes, ſhee chimes, Saw you the Doctor Rut, the houſe Phyſician? He's ſent for too. To Councell? 'time yo' were there. Make haſte, and give it a round quick diſpatch: That wee may goe to dinner betimes, Parſon: And drinke a health, or two more, to the buſines. This is a ſtrange put-off! a reverend youth, You uſe him moſt ſurreverently me thinkes! What? call you him? Palate Pleaſe? or Parſon Palate? All's one, but ſhorter! I can gi'you his Character. Hee, is the Prelate of the Pariſh, here; And governes all the Dames; appoints the cheere; Writes downe the bils of fare; pricks all the Gueſts; Makes all the matches and the marriage feaſts Within the ward; drawes all the pariſh wils; Deſignes the Legacies; and ſtrokes the Gills Of the chiefe Mourners; And (who ever lacks) Of all the kindred, hee hath firſt his blacks. Thus holds hee weddings up, and burials, As his maine tithing; with the Goſſips ſtals, Their pewes; He's top ſtill, at the publique meſſe; Comforts the widow, and the fatherleſſe, In funerall Sack! Sits 'bove the Alderman! For of the Ward-mote Queſt, he better can, The myſterie, then the Levitick Law: That peece of Clark-ſhip doth his Veſtry awe Hee is as he conceives himſelfe, a fine Well furniſh'd, and apparaled Divine. Who made this EPIGRAMME, you? No, a great Clarke As any'is of his bulke. (Ben: Ionſon) made it. But what's the other Character, DOCTOR Rut? The ſame man made 'hem both: but his is ſhorter, And not in rime, but blancks. Ile tell you that, too. Rut is a young Phyſician to the family: That, letting God alone, aſcribes to nature More then her ſhare; licentious in diſcourſe, And in his life a profeſt Voluptary; The ſlave of money, a Buffon in manners; Obſcene in language; which he vents for wit; Is ſawcy in his Logicks, and diſputing, Is any thing but civill, or a man. See here they are! and walking with my Lady, In conſultation, afore the doore; Wee will ſlip in, as if we ſaw 'hem not. I, tis his fault, ſhe's not beſtow'd, My brother Intereſts. Who, old Sir Moath? Hee keeps off all her Suitors, keepes the portion, Still in his hands: and will not part withall, On any termes. Hinc illae lachrymae; Thence flowes the cauſe o'the maine grievance. That It is a maine one! how much is the portion? No petty ſumme. But ſixteene thouſand pound. He ſhould be forc'd, Madam, to lay it downe. When is it payable? When ſhe is married. Marry her, marry her, Madam. Get her married. Looſe not a day, an houre— Not a minute. Purſue your project reall. Mr. Compaſſe, Advis'd you, too. He is the perfect Inſtrument, Your Ladiſhip ſhould ſaile by. Now, Mr. Compaſſe Is a fine witty man; I ſaw him goe in, now. Is hee gone in? Yes, and a Fether with him, He ſeemes a Souldier. Some new Sutor, Madam.