Jonson, Ben · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Chapel (second) · Blackfriars T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.82 · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
'Slight; these Verses have lost me again: I shall not invite 'em to mind now. Rack not your thoughts, good Sir; rather, defer it To a new Time; I'll meet you at your lodging, Or where you please: Till then, Ioue keep you Sir. Nay gentle, Horace, stay: I have it, now. Yes Sir. Apollo, Hermes, Iupiter, look down upon me. Rich was thy hap, Sweet Velvet Cap. There to be placed; Where thy smooth black, sleek white may smack, And both be graced. White, is there usurped for her brow; her forehead: and then sleek, as the Parallel to smooth that went before. A kind of Paranomasia, or Agnomination: do you conceive Sir? Excellent. Troth Sir, I must be abrupt, & leave you. Why, what haste hast thou? pray thee stay a little: thou shalt not go yet, by Phoebus. I shall not? what remedy? Fie, how I sweat with suffering. And then— Pray Sir, give me leave to wipe my face a little. Yes, do, good Horace: Thank you Sir. Death! must crave his leave to piss anon; Or that I may go hence with half my teeth, I am in some such fear: This Tyranny Is strange; to take mine Ears up by Commission, (Whether I will or no) and make them stalls To his lewd Solecisms, and woorded trash. Happy the bold Bolanus, now, I say; Rome's Common Buffoon: His free Impudence Would, long ere this, have called this fellow; Fool; And rank, and tedious Fool, and have slung jests As hard as stones, till he had pelted him Out of the place: whilst my tame Modesty Suffers my Wit be made a solemn Ass To bear his Fopperies.— Horace, thou art miserably affected to be gone, I see But— Pray thee, let's prove, to enjoy thee awhile: Thou hast no business, I assure me: Whether is thy journey directed? ha? Sir, I am going to visit a Friend, that's sick. A Friend? What's he? do not I know him? No Sir, you do not know him; and 'tis not the worse for him. What's his Name? where's he lodged? Where, I shall be fearful to draw you out of your way, Sir; a great way hence; Pray sir, let's part. Nay, but where is't? I pray thee say. On the far side of all Tiber yonder, by Caesar's Gardens. O, that's my course directly; I am for you. Come, go: why stand'st thou? Yes Sir: marry the Plague is in that part of the City; I had almost forgot to tell you, Sir. Fow: It's no matter, I fear no Pestilence, I ha' not offended Phoebus. I have, it seems; or else this heavy scourge Can near have lighted on me.— Come, along. I am to go down some half mile, this way, Sir, first; to speak with his Physician: And from thence to his Apothecary, where I shall stay the mixing of divers drugs—
nodes 550–596 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 16 of 50 in this edition
Length
490 words · 701 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.818 (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)
'Slight; theſe Verſes haue loſt me againe: I ſhall not inuite 'hem to minde now. Racke not your thoughts, good Sir; rather, defer it To a new Time; Ile meete you at your lodging, Or where you pleaſe: Till then, Ioue keepe you Sir. Nay gentle, Horace, ſtay: I haue it, now. Yes Sir. Apollo, Hermes, Iupiter, looke downe vpon me. Rich was thy hap, Sweete Veluet Cap. There to be placed; Where thy ſmooth blacke, ſleeke white may ſmacke, And both be graced. White, is there vſurpt for her brow; her forehead: and then ſleeke, as the Paralell to ſmooth that went before. A kind of Paranomaſy, or Agnomination: doe you conceaue Sir? Excellent. Troth Sir, I muſt be abrupt, & leaue you. Why, what haſte haſt thou? pray thee ſtay a little: thou ſhalt not goe yet, by Phoebus. I ſhall not? what remedy? Fie, how I ſweate with ſuffering. And then— Pray Sir, giue me leaue to wipe my face a little. Yes, doe, good Horace: Thanke you Sir. 'Death! muſt craue his leaue to piſſe anon; Or that I may goe hence with halfe my teeth, I am in ſome ſuch feare: This Tyranny Is ſtrange; to take mine Eares vp by Commiſſion, (Whether I will or no) and make them ſtalls To his lewd Soloeciſmes, and woorded traſh. Happy the bold Bolanus, now, I ſay; Romes Common Buffon: His free Impudence Would, long ere this, haue cald this fellow; Foole; And ranke, and tedious Foole, and haue ſlung ieſts As hard as ſtones, till he had pelted him Out of the place: whil'ſt my tame Modeſty Suffers my Wit be made a ſolemne Aſſe To beare his Fopperies.— Horace, thou art miſerably affected to be gone, I ſee But— Pray thee, lets proue, to enioy thee awhile: Thou haſt no buſineſſe, I aſſure me: Whether is thy iourney directed? ha? Sir, I am going to viſit a Friend, that's ſicke. A Friend? Whats he? doe not I know him? No Sir, you doe not know him; and 'tis not the worſe for him. What's his Name? wher's he lodg'd? Where, I ſhall be fearefull to drawe you out of your way, Sir; a great way hence; Pray ſir, let's part. Nay, but where iſt? I pray thee ſay. On the farre ſide of all Tyber yonder, by Caeſars Gardens. O, that's my courſe directly; I am for you. Come, goe: why ſtandſt thou? Yes Sir: marry the Plague is in that part of the Citty; I had almoſt forgot to tell you, Sir. Fow: It's no matter, I feare no Peſtilence, I ha' not offended Phoebus. I haue, it ſeemes; or elſe this heauy ſcourge Could nere haue lighted on me.— Come, along. I am to goe downe ſome halfe mile, this way, Sir, firſt; to ſpeake with his Phiſitian: And from thence to his Apothecary, where I ſhall ſtay the mixing of diuers drugges—