Barry, Lording · published 1608 · first performed or written 1603 [c.1603-1607] (Annals) comedy · Children of the King's Revels T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.77 · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
Fortune, devils turd i'thy teeth, i'll turn no more o'thy wheel, Art is above thy might: what though my project with Mistress Maria failed, more ways to the wood than one, there's variety in love. It is believed I am out of town, my door is open, the hour is at hand, all things squared by the doctor's rule, and now I look for the Spirit to bring me warm comfort, to clothe my nakedness, and that is Mistress Purge, the cordial of a Familist, and come quickly good Spirit, or else my teeth will chatter for thee. O the naked pastimes of love, the scourge of dullness, the purifier of uncleanness, and the hot house of humanity: I have taken physic of master Purge, any time this twelve months to purge my humour upon's wife, & I have ever found her so fugitive, from exercise to exercise, and from family to Family, that I could never yet open the close stool of my mind to her: so that I may well say with Ovid: Hei mihi quod nullus amor est medicabilis herbis: now am I driven to prove the violent virtue conjuration, if it hit, and that I yearke my familist out of the Spirit, i'll hang up my Scourge-stick for a Trophy, and imparadise my thoughts, though the Doctor go to the devil, 'tis no matter: ha let me see; Lipsalues door open! and himself out of town? excellent Doctor, soothsaying Doctor, oraculous Doctor. I have taken up this standing to see my Gallants play at Barriers with Scourge-sticks for the honour of my Punk: and in good time I see my brave Spirits shining in bright Armour nakedly burning in the Hell fire of Lechery, and ready for the hot encounter: sound Trumpets, the Combatants are mounted. The apparition: Mistress Purge peers through him, I see her. The spirit appears: but he might have come sooner: I am numbed with cold, a shivering ague hath taken away my Courage. They are afraid one of another, look how they tremble, the flesh and the devil strengthen 'em: ha, ha, ha. Has a no cloven feet, what a laxative fever shakes me. Will a not carry me with him to Hell? well I must venture: Clogmathos My Cue: Clogmathathos. My Cue Garrazin. Garragas. Garrazinos. Tun tetuphon. Taes tetuphes. With a Whirley Twinos— they lash one another. Hold, hold, hold, gog's nouns, gog's blood, a pox, a plague, the Devil take you, truce, truce, I smart, I smart. Ha, ha, ha. O for one of the hoops of my Cornelius' Tub: I must needs be gone, I shall burst myself with laughing else: Magic hath no such Rule, men can not find, Lust ever better handled in his kind. What art thou? with the name of Ioue I conjure thee? With any name saving the whip, i'll no more of that conjuration a plague on't. Speak art not a Spirit, in the likeness of my friend Lipsalve, that should transform thyself to mistress Purge.
nodes 565–586 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 19 of 40 in this edition
Length
504 words · 716 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.775 (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)
Fortune, deuills turd i'thy teeth, ile turne no more o'thy wheele, Art is aboue thy might: what though my proiect with Miſtriſſe Maria fayld, more waies to the wood then one, thers variety in loue. It is beleeud I am out of towne, my dore is open, the houre is at hand, all things ſquard by the Doctors rule, and now I looke for the Spirit to bring me warme comfort, to cloath my nakedneſſe, and that is Miſtris Purge, the cordiall of a Familiſt, and come quickly good Spirit, or elſe my teeth will chatter for thee. O the naked paſtymes of loue, the ſcourge of dulneſſe, the purifier of vncleanneſſe, and the hot houſe of humanity: I haue taken phiſick of maſter Purge, any time this twelue months to purge my humor vpon's wife, & J haue euer found her ſo fugitiue, from exerciſe to exerciſe, and from family to Familie, that I could neuer yet open the cloſe ſtoole of my mind to her: ſo that I may well ſay with Ouid: Hei mihi quod nullus amor eſt medicabilis herbis: now am J driuen to proue the violent vertue coniuration, if it hit, and that I yearke my familiſt out of the Spirit, ile hang vp my Scourge-ſticke for a Trophee, and emparadize my thoughts, though the Doctor goe to the diuell, tis no matter: ha let me ſee; Lipſalues doore open! and himſelfe out of towne? excellēt Doctor, ſoothſaying Doctor, oraculous Doctor. I haue taken vp this ſtanding to ſee my Gallants play at Barriers with Scourge-ſticks for the honour of my Punke: and in good time I ſee my braue Spirits ſhining in bright Armour nakedly burning in the Hell fire of Lechery, and ready for the hot encounter: ſound Trumpets, the Combatants are mounted. The apparition: Miſtris Purge peeres through him, I ſee her. The ſpirit appeares: but he might haue come ſooner: I am num'd with colde, a ſhiuering ague hath taken away my Courage. They are afrayde one of another, looke how they tremble, the fleſh and the diuell ſtrengthen 'hem: ha, ha, ha. Has a no clouen feete, what a laxatiue feuer ſhakes me. Will a not carry me with him to Hell? well I muſt venter: Clogmathos My Cue: Clogmathathos. My Cue Garrazin. Garragas. Garrazinos. Ton tetuphon. Tes tetuphes. With a Whirley Twinos—they laſh one another. Hold, hold, hold, gogs nownes, Gogs blude, a pox, a plague, the Diuell take you, truce, truce, J ſmart, J ſmart. Ha, ha, ha. O for one of the hoopes of my Cornelius Tub: I muſt needs be gone, I ſhall burſt my ſelfe with laughing elſe: Magicke hath no ſuch Rule, men can not find, Luſt euer better handled in his kind. What art thou? with the name of Ioue I coniure thee? With any name ſauing the whip, ile no more of that coniuration a plague on't. Speake art not a Spirit, in the likeneſſe of my friend Lipſalue, that ſhould tranſforme thy ſelfe to miſtris Purge.