Heywood, Thomas · published 1600 · first performed or written 1599 [1592-1599] (Annals) history · Derby's (Strange's) Men T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.79 · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
It did, it did. Why then record in thy black hellish thoughts, How many mischiefs have ensued hereon? First wronged Clarence drowned in the Tower, Next, Edward's children murdered in the Tower: This day at Pomfret noble Gentlemen, three the queens kindred, lose their harmless heads. Thinkst thou that here this flood of mischief stays No villain, many are marked to the block, And they the nearest, think them furthest off, Even Buckingham, creator of that king, Shall he to woe and wretched ending bring. All this (accursed man) hath come by thee, And thy false wresting of my prophecy, For England's good disclosed to thy trust, And so it had been, hadst thou proved just. But thou and every one that had a hand, In that most woeful murder of the Princes, To fatal ends you are appointed all. Here in thy study shalt thou starve thyself, And from this hour not taste one bit of food, The rest shall after follow on a row, To all their deaths, vengeance will not be slow. Where is M. Doctor Shaw? Here friend, what is thy will with me? K. Richard prays ye to come to him straight. For he would be confessed. I cannot come, I pray thee take that friar, For he can do it better far than I. A Friar M. Doctor I see none. Dost thou not? no, thy untainted soul Cannot discern the horrors that I do. Shaw go with him, & tell that tyrant Richard, He hath but three years limited for life, And then a shameful death takes hold on him, That done, return, and in thy study end Thy loathed life that didst us all offend, With all my heart, would it were ended now, So it were done, I care not where nor how. Now mistress Shore, here our commission ends, Put off your robe of shame, for this is Algate, Whither it was appointed we should bring you, My robe of shame? Oh that so soul a name Should be applied unto so fair a garment, Which is no more to be condemned of shame, Than snow of putrefaction is deserved, To cover an infectious heap of dung, My robe of shame, but not my shame put off, For that sits branded on my forehead still, And therefore in derision was I wrapped, In this white Sheet: and in derision bore This burning taper, to express my folly, That having light of reason to direct me, Delighted yet in by-ways of dark error. Well mistress Shore, I hope you grudge not us, We showed you all the favour poor men could. Oh God forbid: I know the Kings Edia Set you a work, and not your own desires. I truly mistress, and for our parts, We could be well content 'twere otherwise, But that the laws severe, and so we leave you.
nodes 2255–2315 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 38 of 49 in this edition
Length
481 words · 613 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.785 (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)
It did, it did. Why then record in thy black hellish thoughts, How many mischiefes haue ensude hereon? First wronged Clarence drowned in the Towre, Next, Edwards children murdred in the Towre: This day at Pomfret noble Gentlemen, Thrée the Quéenes kinred, lose their harmelesse heads. Thinkst thou that here this floud of mischiefe No villaine, many are markt to the blocke, And they the nearest, thinke them furthest off, Euen Buckingham, creator of that king, Shall he to woe and wretched ending bring. All this (accursed man) hath come by thee, And thy false wresting of my prophecie, For Englands good disclosed to thy trust, And so it had béene, hadst thou proued iust. But thou and euerie one that had a hand, In that most wofull murther of the Princes, To satall ends you are appointed all. Here in thy studie shalt thou sterue thy selfe, And from this houre not taste one bit of foode, The rest shall after follow on a row, To all their deaths, vengeance will not be slow. Where is M. Doctor Shaw? Here friend, what is thy will with me? K. Richard praies yee to come to him strait. For he would be consest. I cannot come, I pray thée take that Frier, For he can do it better farre then I. A Frier M. Doctor I sée none. Doest thou not? no, thy vntainted soule Cannot discerne the horrors that I do. Shaw go with him, & tell that tyrant Richard, He hath but thrée yeares limited for life, And then a shamefull death takes hold on him, That done, returne, and in thy studie end Thy loathed life that didst vs all offend, With all my heart, would it were ended now, So it were done, I care not where nor how. Now mistris Shoare, here our commissionends, Put off your roabe of shame, for this is Algate, Whither it was appointed we should bring you, My roabe of shame? Oh that so soule a name Should be applied vnto so faire a garment, Which is no more to bée condemnde of shame, Then snow of putrefaction is deserude, To couer an infectious heape of dung, My roabe of shame, but not my shame put off, For that sits branded on my forehead still, And therefore in derision was I wrapt, In this white Sheete: and in derision bore This burning taper, to expresse my folly, That hauing light of reason to direct mee, Delighted yet in by-waies of darke error. Wel mistris Shoare, I hope you grudge not vs, We she wde you all the fauour poore men could. Oh God forbid: I know the Kings Edia Set you a worke, and not your owne desires. I truly mistris, and for our parts, We could be well content twere otherwise, But that the lawes seuere, and so we leaue you.