Dekker, Thomas · published 1600 · first performed or written 1599 [Nov 9-30, payment] (Annals) romance · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men · before the Court T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.85 · 475 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
Help, Father, help, I am hurried hence perforce. Draw weapons, where's the princess, follow him, Stay the French Doctor, stay the Doctor there. Cornwall and some other run out, and enter presently. Stay him, sh'art who dare stay him? 'tis the devil In likeness of a Frenchman, of a Doctor. Look how a rascal kite having swept up A Chicken in his claws, so flies this hellhound In th'air with Agrippine in his arms. Count every man upon his swiftest horse. Fly several ways, he cannot bear her far. These paths we'll beat. And this way shall be mine. This way, my Liege, i'll ride. And this way I: No matter which way, to seek misery. I can ride no way, to outrun my shame. Yes, Longavile, let's gallop after too, Doubtless this Doctor was that Irish devil, That cozened us, the medicine which he gave us, Tasted like his Damasco villainy. To horse, to horse, if we can catch this fiend, Our forked shame shall in his heart blood end. O how this mads me, that all tongues in scorn, Which way soe'er I ride, cry, Ware the horn. O gentle Andelocia pity me, Take off this infamy, or take my life. Your life? you think then that I am a true Doctor indeed, that tie up my lining in the knots of winding sheeets: your life? no, keep your life, but deliver your purse: you know the thief's salutation, Stand & deliver. So, this is mine, and these yours: I'll teach you to live by the sweat of other men's brows. And to strive to be fairer than God made her. Right, Shadow: therefore vanish, you have made me turn juggler, and cry hey-pass, but your horns shall not repass. O gentle Andelocia. Andelocia is a Nettle: if you touch him gently, he'll sting you. Or a rose, if you pull his sweet stalk, he'll prick you. Therefore not a word, go, trudge to your Father: sigh not for your purse, money may be got by you, as well as by the little Welsh woman in Cyprus, that had but one horn in her head, you have two; and perhaps you shall cast both: as you use me, mark those words well, as you use me, nay, you're best fly, i'll not endure one word more. Yet stay too, because you entreat me so gently, and that i'll make some amends to your Father, although I care not for any King in Christendom, yet hold you, take this Apple, eat it as you go to court, and your horns shall play the cowards and fall from you. O gentle Andelocia. Nay away, not a word. Ha, ha, ha, etc. Ware horns. Why dost thou laugh, Shadow? To see what a horn plague follows covetousness and pride. Brother, what mysteries lie in all this?
nodes 1913–1952 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 42 of 48 in this edition
Length
475 words · 662 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.855 (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)
Helpe, Father, helpe, I am hurried hence perforce. Draw weapons, wheres the princesse, follow him, Stay the French Doctor, stay the Doctor there. Cornwall and some other run out, and enter presently. Stay him, sh'art who dare stay him? tis the diuell In likenesse of a Frenchman, of a Doctor. Looke how a rascall kyte hauing swept vp A Chicken in his clawes, so flies this hell-hound In th'ayre with Agripyne in his armes. Count euery man vpon his swiftest horse. Flie seuerall waies, he cannot beare her farre. These paths weele beate. And this way shall be mine. This way, my Leige, ile ride. And this way I: No matter which way, to séeke miserie. I can ride no way, to out-runne my shame. Yes, Longauile, lets gallop after too, Doubtlesse this Doctor was that Irish diuell, That cozend vs, the medicine which he gaue vs, Tasted like his Damasco villanie. To horse, to horse, if we can catch this fiend, Our forked shame shall in his heart bloud end. O how this mads me, that all tongues in scorne, Which way so ere I ryde, cry, Ware the horne. O gentle Andelocia pittie me, Take off this infamie, or take my life. Your life? you thinke then that I am a true Doctor indéede, that tie vp my lining in the knots of winding shéetes: your life? no, kéepe your life, but deliuer your purse: you know the theifes salutation, Stand & deliuer. So, this is mine, and these yours: Ile teach you to liue by the sweate of other mens browes. And to striue to be fairer then God made her. Right, Shaddow: therefore vanish, you haue made me turne Iugler, and crie hey-passe, but your hornes shall not repasse. O gentle Andelocia. Andelocia is a Nettle: if you touch him gently, héele sting you. Or a rose, if you pul his swéete stalke, héele prick you. Therefore not a word, goe, trudge to your Father: sigh not for your purse, money may be got by you, as well as by the little Welsh woman in Cyprus, that had but one horne in her head, you haue two; and perhaps you shall cast both: as you vse me, marke those words well, as you vse me, nay, y'are best flie, ile not endure one word more. Yet stay too, because you intreate me so gently, and that ile make some amends to your Father, although I care not for any King in Christendome, yet hold you, take this Apple, eate it as you goe to court, and your hornes shall play the cowards and fall from you. O gentle Andelocia. Nay away, not a word. Ha, ha, ha, &c. Ware hornes. Why doest thou laugh, Shaddow? To see what a horne plague followes coueteousnesse and pride. Brother, what misteries lie in all this?