1 The Honest Whore (1 The Converted Courtesan) (The Patient Man and the Honest Whore) · chunk 35 of 48
Dekker, Thomas / Middleton, Thomas · published 1604 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) comedy · Prince Henry's Men T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.85 · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
Changed sir, why true sir, is change strange, 'tis not the fashion unless it alter: monarch turn to beggars; beggars creep into the nests of Princes, Masters serve their prentices: Ladies their servingmen, men turn to women. And women turn to men. ay, and women turn to men, you say true, ha ha, a mad world, a mad world. Have we caught you sir? Caught me: well, well: you have caught: me. He laughs in your faces. A rescue Prentices, my master's catchpole. I charge you keep the peace, or have your legs gartered with Irons, we have from the Duke a warrant strong enough for what we do. I pray rest quiet, I desire no rescue. La: he desires no rescue, I as poor heart, He talks against himself. Well, what's the matter? Look to that arm, Pray make sure work, double the cord. Why, why? Look how his head goes! should he get but lose, Oh 'twere as much as all our lives were worth. Fear not, we'll make all sure for our own safety. Are you at leisure now? well, what's the matter? Why do I enter into bonds thus? ha? Because you're mad, put fear upon your wife. Oh ay, I went in danger of my life, every minute. What? am I mad say you, and I not know it? That proves you mad, because you know it not. Pray talk as little to him as you can, You see he's too far spent. Bound with strong cord, A sister's thread i'faith had been enough, To lead me anywhere: Wife do you long? You are mad too, or else you do me wrong. But are you mad indeed Master? My Wife says so, And what she says; George, is all truth you know: And whether now? to Bethlem Monastery?— ha! whether? Faith e'en to the madmen's pound. A God's name, still I feel my patience sound. Come we'll see whether he goes, if the master be mad, we are his servants, and must follow his steps, we'll be mad caps too; Farewell mistress, you shall have us all in Bedlam. I think, I ha' fitted now, you and your clothes, If this move not his patience, nothing can, I'll swear then I have a saint, and not a man give us a little leave. Doctor your news. I sent for him my Lord: at last he came, And did receive all speech that went from me, As gilded pills made to prolong his health: My credit with him wrought it: for, some men. Swallow even empty hooks, like fools. that fear No drowning where 'tis deepest, Cause 'tis clear: In th'end we sat and eat: a health I drank To Infaelice's sweet departed soul, (This train I knew would take.) 'twas excellent. He fell with such devotion on his knees, To pledge the same. Fond superstitious fool?
nodes 1584–1637 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 35 of 48 in this edition
Length
481 words · 653 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.853 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Changde sir, why true sir, is change strange, tis not the fashion vnlesse it alter: Monarkes turne to beggers; beggers creepe into the nests of Princes, Maisters serue their prentises: Ladies their Seruingmen, men turne to women. And women turne to men. I, and women turne to men, you say true, ha ha, a mad world, a mad world. Haue we caught you sir? Caught me: well, well: you haue caught: me. Hee laughes in your faces. A rescue Prentises, my maister's catch-pold. I charge you keepe the peace, or haue your legs gartered with Yrons, we haue from the Duke a warrant strong enough for what we doe. I pray rest quiet, I desire no rescue. La: he desires no rescue, I as poore heart, He talkes against himselfe. Well, whats the matter? Looke to that arme, Pray make sure worke, double the cord. Why, why? Looke how his head goes! should he get but loose, Oh twere as much as all our liues were worth. Feare not, weele make all sure for our owne safetie. Are you at leisure now? well, whats the matter? Why do I enter into bonds thus? ha? Because y'are mad, put feare vpon your wife. Oh I, I went in danger of my life, euery minute. What? am I mad say you, and I not know it? That proues you mad, because you know it not. Pray talke as little to him as you can, You see hees too farre spent. Bound with strong corde, A Cisters thred yfaith had beene enough, To lead me any where: Wife do you long? You are mad too, or els you do me wrong. But are you mad indeed Maister? My Wife sayes so, And what she sayes; George, is all trueth you know: And whether now? to Bethlem Monastery? — ha! whether? Faith eene to the mad-mens pound. A Gods name, still I feele my patience sound. Come weele see whether he goes, if the maister be mad, we are his seruants, and must follow his steps, weele be mad caps too; Farewell mistrisse, you shall haue vs all in Bedlam. I thinke, I ha fitted now, you and your clothes, If this moue not his patience, nothing can, Ile sweare then I haue a saint, and not a man giue vs a little leaue. Doctor your newes. I sent for him my Lord: at last he came, And did receiue all speech that went from me, As gilded pilles made to prolong his health: My credit with him wrought it: for, some men. Swallow euen empty hookes, like fooles. that feare No drowning where tis deepest, Cause tis cleare: In th'end we sat and eate: a health I dranke To Infaelices sweete departed soule, (This traine I knew would take.) Twas excellent. He fell with such deuotion on his knees, To pledge the same. Fond superstitious foole?