The Miseries of Enforced Marriage · chunk 44 of 47
Wilkins, George · published 1607 · first performed or written 1606 [1605-1606] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.69 · 463 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
whose's within here. Sir William, kindly welcome. Where is my kinsman Scarborrow? Sooth he's within sir, but not very well. His sickness? The hell of sickness, troubled in his mind. I guess the cause of it, But cannot now intend to visit him, Great business for my sovereign hasts me hence, Only this Letter from his Lord and Guardian to him, Whose inside I do guess, tends to his good, At my return I'll see him, so farewell. Whose inside I do guess turns to his good, He shall not see it now then, for men's minds Perplexed like his, are like Land-troubling-winds, Who have no gracious temper. O Butler. What's the fright now? Help straight, or on the tree of shame We both shall perish for the robbery. What is't revealed man? Not yet good Butler, only my brother Thomas In spleen to me, that would not suffer him To kill our elder brother, had undone us Is riding now to sir Iohn Harcop straight, to disclose it. Heart, who would rob with Sucklings: Where did you leave him? Now taking horse to ride to Yorkshire. I'll stay his journey, lest I meet a hanging. I'll parley with the Devil: ay, I will, He gives his council freely, and the cause He for his Clients pleads, goes always with them, He in my cause shall deal then: and I'll ask him Whether a Cormorant may have stuffed Chests And see his brother starve: why he'll say I, The less they give, the more I gain thereby. Their souls, their souls, their souls. How now master? Nay, you are my master? Is my wives sheets warm? does she kiss well? Good sir. Foe, makt not strange for in these days, There's many men lie in their masters sheets, And so may you in mine and yet: Your business sir? There's one in civil habit sir, would speak with you. In civil habit. He is of seemly rank sir, and calls himself By the name of Doctor Baxtor of Oxford. That man undid me, he did blossoms blow Whose fruit proved poison, though 'twas good in show, With him I'll parley, and disrobe my thoughts Of this wild frenzy that becomes me not: A table, candles, stools, and all things fit, I know he comes to chide me, and I'll hear him, With our sad conference we will call up tears, Teach Doctors rules, instruct succeeding years: Usher him in: Heaven spare a drop from thence where's bounties throng Give patience to my soul, inflame my tongue. God master Scarborow. You are most kindly welcome, sooth ye are. I ha important business to deliver you. And I have leisure to attend your hearing. Sir, you know I married you. I know you did sir.
nodes 1870–1933 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 44 of 47 in this edition
Length
463 words · 619 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.688 (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)
Whose within heere. Sir William, kindly welcome. Where is my kinsman Scarborrow? Sooth hees within sir, but not very well. His sicknesse? The hel of sicknes, troubled in his mind. I gesse the cause of it, But cannot now intend to visit him, Great business for my soueraigne hasts me hence, Onely this Letter from his Lord and Guardian to him, Whose inside I do gesse, tends to his good, At my returne Ile see him, so farewell. Whose inside I do gesse turnes to his good, He shall not see it now then, for mens minds Perplext like his, are like Land-troubling-winds, Who haue no gracious temper. O Butler. Whats the fryght now? Helpe strait, or on the tree of shame We both shall perish for the robbery. What ist reueald man? Not yet good Butler, only my brother Thomas In spleene to me▪ that would not suffer him To kill our elder brother, had vndone vs Is riding now to sir Iohn Harcop straight, to disclose it. Hart, who would rob with Sucklings: Where did you leaue him? Now taking horse to ride to Yorkshire. Ile stay his iourney, least I meet a hanging. Ile parley with the Deuill: I, I will, He giues his councell freely, and the cause He for his Clyents pleads, goes alwaies with them, He in my cause shall deale then: and Ile aske him Whether a Cormorant may haue stuft Chests And see his brother starue: why heele say I, The lesse they giue, the more I gaine thereby. Their soules, their soules, theyr soules. How now mayster? Nay, you are my maister? Is my wiues sheets warme? Dus she kisse well? Good sir. Foe, makt not strange for in these daies, Theres many men lie in theyr maysters sheets, And so may you in mine and yet: Your businesse sir? Theres one in ciuill habit sir, would speake with you. In ciuill habite. He is of seemly ranke sir, and cals himselfe By the name of Doctor Baxtor of Oxford. That man vndid me, he did blossoms blow Whose fruit proued poyson, tho twas good in shew, With him Ile parley, and disrobe my thoughts Of this wilde phrensey that becoms me not: A table, candles, stooles, and all things fit, I know he comes to chide me, and Ile heare him, With our sad conference we will call vp teares, Teach Doctors rules, instruct succeeding yeares: Vsher him in: Heauen spare a drop from thence wheres bounties throng Giue patience to my soule, inflame my toung. God mayster Scarborow. You are most kindly welcome, sooth ye are. I ha important businesse to deliuer you. And I haue leysure to attend your hearing. Sir, you know I married you. I know you did sir.