The Magnetic Lady, or Humors Reconciled · chunk 39 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 0.74 · 468 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
O noble Doctor, did not you, and your Item, Tell me our Niece was in labour? If I did, What follows? And that Mother Midnight Was sent for? So she was; and is i'the house still. But here has a noise been since, she was delivered Of a brave boy, and Mr. Compasse's getting. I know no rattle of Gossips, nor their noises. I hope you take not me for a Pimp errand, To deal in smock Affaires? Where's the Patient? The infirm man, I was sent for, Squire Needle? Is Needle sick? My 'Pothecary tells me He is in danger; how is't Tim? where is he? I cannot hold him down. he's up, and walks, And talks in his perfect sleep, with his eyes shut, As sensibly, as he were broad awake. See, here becomes, he's fast asleep, observe him. he'll tell us wonders: What do these women here? Hunting a man half naked? you are fine beagles! You'd have his dousets. I ha' linen breeches on. He hears, but he sees nothing. Yes, I see Who hides the treasure yonder. Ha'? what treasure? If you ask questions, he ' wakes presently: And than you'll hear no more, till his next fit. And whom she hides it for. Do you mark Sir? Int. A fine she spirit it is, an Indian Magpie. She was an Alderman's Widow, and fell in love With our Sir Moth, my Lady's brother. (Hear you?) And she has hid an Alderman's estate; Dropped through her bill in little holes, i' the Garden, And scrapes earth over 'em; where none can spy But I, who see all by the Glow-worms light, That creeps before. I knew the Gentlewoman; Alderman Parrots Widow, a fine Speaker, As any was i' the Clothing, or the Bevy; She did become her scarlet, and black Velvet, Her green, and purple— Save thy colours, Rainbow, Or she will run thee over, and all thy lights. She dwelled in Doo-little Lane, a top o'the hill there; I' the round Cage, was after Sir Chime Squirrell's. She would eat naught but Almonds, I assure you. Would thou hadst a dose of pills, a double dose, O' the best purge, to make thee turn tale, t'other way. You are a foul mouthed, purging, absurd Doctor; I tell you true, and I did long to tell it you. You ha'spread a scandal i' my Lady's house here, On her sweet Niece, you never can take of With all your purges, or your plaster of Oaths; Though you distil your Damn, drop by drop, I' your defence. That she hath had a Child, Here she doth spit upon thee, and defy thee; Or I do't for her. Madam, pray you bind her To her behaviour. Tie your Gossip up, Or sand her unto Bedlam.
nodes 2341–2405 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 39 of 45 in this edition
Length
468 words · 669 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.739 (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)
O noble Doctor, did not you, and your Item, Tell me our Neice was in labour? If I did, What followes? And that Mother Mid-night Was ſent for? So ſhe was; and is i'the houſe ſtill. But here has a noiſe beene ſince, ſhe was deliver'd Of a brave boy, and Mr. Compaſſe's getting. I know no rattle of Goſſips, nor their noyſes. I hope you take not me for a Pimpe errant, To deale in ſmock Affaires? Where's the Patient? The infirme man, I was ſent for, Squire Needle? Is Needle ſick? My 'Pothecary tels me Hee is in danger; how is't Tim? where is he? I cannot hold him downe. Hee's up, and walkes, And talkes in his perfect ſleepe, with his eyes ſhut, As ſenſibly, as he were broad awake. See, here becomes, Hee's faſt aſleepe, obſerve him. Hee'll tell us wonders: What doe theſe women here? Hunting a man halfe naked? you are fine beagles! You'd have his douſets. I ha' linnen breeks on. He heares, but hee ſees nothing. Yes, I ſee Who hides the treaſure yonder. Ha? what treaſure? If you aske queſtions, he 'wakes preſently: And then you'l heare no more, till his next fit. And whom ſhe hides it for. Doe you marke Sir? Int. A fine ſhe ſpirit it is, an Indian Mag-pie. She was an Aldermans Widow, and fell in love With our Sir Moath, my Ladies brother. (Heare you?) And ſhe has hid an Aldermans eſtate; Dropt through her bill in little holes, i' the Garden, And ſcrapes earth over 'hem; where none can ſpy But I, who ſee all by the Glowormes light, That creeps before. I knew the Gentlewoman; Alderman Parrots Widow, a fine Speaker, As any was i' the Clothing, or the Bevy; She did become her ſcarlet, and black Velvet, Her greene, and purple— Save thy colours, Rainebow, Or ſhe will run thee over, and all thy lights. She dwelt in Doo-little Lane, a top o'the hill there; I' the round Cage, was after Sir Chime Squirrell's. Shee would eate nought but Almonds, I aſſure you. Would thou had'ſt a doſe of pilles, a double doſe, O' the beſt purge, to make thee turne tale, tother way. You are a foule mouth'd, purging, abſurd Doctor; I tell you true, and I did long to tell it you. You ha'ſpread a ſcandall i' my Ladies houſe here, On her ſweet Neice, you never can take off With all your purges, or your plaiſter of Oathes; Though you diſtill your Dam-me, drop by drop, I' your defence. That ſhe hath had a Child, Here ſhe doth ſpit upon thee, and defie thee; Or I do't for her. Madam, pray you bind her To her behaviour. Tye your Goſſip up, Or ſend her unto Bet'lem.