Lyly, John · published 1584 · first performed or written c.1583 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Chapel (first) (Oxford's Boys) · before the Court T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.74 · 496 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
No, no, the best ease I find is to sigh it out. A strange disease, that should breed such a desire. A strange desire that hath brought such a disease. Where, Lady, do you feel your most pain? Where nobody else can feel it Canope. At the heart? In the heart. Will you have any mithridate? Yea, if for this disease there were any mithridate? Why? what disease is it Madam, that physic can not cure? Only the disease Mileta that I have. Is it a burning ague? I think so, or a burning agony. Will you have any of this Syrup, to moisture your mouth? Would I had some local things to dry my brain. madam will you see if you can sleep? Sleep Favilla: I shall then dream. As good dream sleeping, as sigh waking. Phao is cunning in all kind of simples, and it is hard, if there be none to procure sleep. Who? Phao. Yea Phao, Phao, ah Phao, let him come presently. Shall we draw the curtains, whilst you give yourself to slumber? Do, but depart not, I have such starts in my sleep, disquieted I know not how. Phao, Phao. What say you madam? Nothing, but if I sleep not now, you send for Phao. Ah Gods. There is a fish called Garus, that healeth all sickness, so as whilst it is applied one name not Garus. An evil medicine for us women: for if we should be forbidden to name Garus, we should chat nothing but Garus. Well said Eugenua, you know yourself. Yea Canope, and that I am one of your sex. I have heard of an herb called Lunary, that being bound to the pulses of the sick, causeth nothing but dreams of weddings and dances. I think Ismena, that herb be at thy pulses now: for thou art ever talking of matches and merriments. It is an unlucky sign in the chamber of the sick to talk of marriages; for my mother said, it foreshoweth death. It is very evil to Canope to sit at the beds feet, and foretelleth danger: therefore remove your stool, and sit by me. Sure it is some cold she hath taken. If one were burnt, I think we women would say, he died of a cold. It may be some conceit. Then is there no fear: for yet did I never hear of a woman that died of a conceit. I mistrust her not: for that the owl hath not shrieked at the window, or the night Raven crooked, both being fatal. You are all superstitious: for these be but fancies of doting age: who by chance observing it in some, have set it down as a religion for all. Favilla, thou art but a Girl, I would not have a Weasel cry, nor desire to see a Glass, nor an old wife come into my chamber: for then though I lingered in my disease, I should never escape it.
nodes 290–330 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 16 of 27 in this edition
Length
496 words · 657 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.740 (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)
No, no, the best ease I finde is to sigh it out. A straunge disease, that should breede such a desire. A strang desire that hath brought such a disease. Where, Ladie, doe you feele your most paine? Where no bodie els can feele it Canope. At the heart? In the heart. Will you haue any Mithrydate? Yea, if for this disease there wer any Mithrydate? Why? what disease is it Madam, that phisick cā not cure? Onely the disease Mileta that I haue. Is it a burning ague? I thinke so, or a burning agonie. Will you haue any of this Syrope, to moysture your mouth? Would I had some local things to dry my brain. Madame will you see if you can sleepe? Sleepe Fauilla: I shall then dreame. As good dreame sleeping, as sigh waking. Phao is cunning in all kind of simples, and it is hard, if there bee none to procure sleepe. Who? Phao. Yea Phao, Phao, ah Phao, let him come presētly. Shall we draw the cutteines, whilest you gyue your selfe to slumber? Doe, but departe not, I haue such startes in my sleepe, disquieted I know not how. Phao, Phao. What say you Madame? Nothing, but if I sleepe not now, you sende for Phao. Ah Gods. There is a fish called Garus, that healeth al sick nesse, so as whilest it is applyed one name not Garus. An euill medicine for vs women: for if we shuld be forbidden to name Garus, we shuld chat nothing but Garus. Well said Eugenua, you know your selfe. Yea Canope, and that I am one of your sexe. I haue hearde of an hearbe called Lunary, that being bound to the pulses of the sick, causeth nothinge but dreames of weddings and daunces. I think Ismena, that hearb be at thy pulses now: for thou art euer talking of matches and merymentes. It is an vnlucky figne in the chamber of the sick to talke of mariages; for my mother saide, it foresheweth death. It is very euill to Canope to sitte at the beddes feete, and foretelleth daunger: therefore remoue your stoole, and sitte by me. Sure it is some cold she hath taken. If one were burnt, I thinke wee women woulde say, he died of a cold. It may be some conceite. Then is there no feare: for yet did I neuer heare of a woman that died of a conceite. I mistruste her not: for that the owle hath not shrikte at the window, or the night Rauen croked, both being fatall. You are all superstitious: for these bee but fancies of doting age: who by chance obseruing it in some, haue set it downe as a religion for all. Fauilla, thou art but a Girle, I would not haue a Weesel crye, nor desire to see a Glasse, nor an old wife come into my chamber: for then though I lyngred in my disease, I should neuer escape it.