The Atheist's Tragedy, or The Honest Man's Revenge · chunk 36 of 41
Tourneur, Cyril · published 1611 · first performed or written 1611 [1607-1611] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.74 · 505 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
D'amville! With all thy wisdom thouart a fool. Not like those fools that we term innocents; But a most wretched miserable fool. Which instantly; to the confusion of Thy projects with despair thou shalt behold. What foolish dream dares interrupt my rest? To my confusion? How can that be? Since My purposes have hitherto been borne With prosperous judgement to secure success. Which nothing lives to dispossess me off, But apprehended Charlemont. And him, This brain has made the happy instrument To free Suspicion, to annihilate All interest and title of his own; To seal up my assurance; and confirm My absolute possession by the law. Thus while the simple honest worshipper Of a fantastic providence; groans under The burden of neglected misery; My real wisdom has raised up a State, That shall eternize my posterity. What's that? The body of your younger Son slain by the Lord Belforest. Slain? you lie.— Sebastian. Speak, Sebastian! H'as lost his hearing. A physician presently. Go call a Surgeon. oh. What groan was that? How does my elder Son? the sound came from his chamber. He went sick to bed my Lord. oh. The cries of Mandrakes never touched the ear, with more sad horror then that voice does mine. Never you will see your Son alive.— Nature forbid I e'er should see him dead. Withdraw the Curtains. O how does my Son? methinks, he's ready to give up the ghost. Destruction take thee and thy fatal tongue. Death, where's the Doctor?— Art not thou the fact of that prodigious apparition seared upon me in my dream? The Doctor's come my Lord. Doctor! Behold two Patients, in whose care thy skill may purchase an eternal fame. If thou hast any reading in Hipocrates, Galen, or Avice; if herbs, or drugs, or minerals have any power to save; Now let thy practice and their sovereign use, raise thee to wealth and honour. If any root of life remains within'em capable of Physic; fear'em not, my Lord. oh. His gasping sighs are like the falling noise of some great building when the groundwork breaks. On these two pillars stood the stately frame, and architecture of my lofty house. An Earthquake shakes'em. The foundation shrinks. Dear Nature! in whose honour I have raised a work of glory to posterity; O bury not the pride of that great action, under the fall and ruin of itself. My Lord. These bodies are deprived of all the radical ability of Nature. The heat of life is utterly extinguished. Nothing remains within the power of man that can restore them. Take this gold; extract the Spirit of it, and inspire new life into their bodies. Nothing can my Lord. You ha' not yet examined the true state and constitution of their bodies. Sure, you ha' not. I'll reserve their waters till the morning. Questionless, their urines will inform you better. Ha, ha, ha. Dost laugh thou villain! must my wisdom that has been the object of men's admiration, now become the subject of thy laughter?
nodes 1532–1576 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 36 of 41 in this edition
Length
505 words · 663 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.737 (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)
D'amille! With all thy wisedome th'art a oole. Not like those fooles that we terme innocents; But a most wretched miserable foole. Which instantly; to the confusion of Thy proiects with despaire thou shalt behold. What foolish dreame dares interrupt my rest? To my confusion? How can that be? Since My purposes haue hitherto beene borne With prosp'rous Iudgement to secure successe. Which nothing to dispossesse me off, But apprehended Charlemt. And him, This braine has made the happy instrument To free Suspition, to annihilate All interest and title of his owne; To seale vp my assurance; and confirme My absolute possession by the law. Thus while the simple honest worshipper Of a phantastique prouidence; groanes vnder The burthen of neglected miserie; My reall wisedome has rais'd vp a State, That shall eternize my posteritie. What's that? The body of your younger Sonne slaine by the Lord Belforest. Slaine? you lie.—Sebastian. Speake, Sebastian! H'as lost his hearing. A Phisiian presently. Goe call a Surgeon. Ooh. What groane was that? How does my elder Sonne? the sound came from his chamber. He went sicke to bed my Lord. Ooh. The cries of Mandrakes neuer touch'd the eare, with more sad horrour then that voice does mine. Neuer you will see your Sonne aliue.— Nature forbid I e'er should see him dead. Withdraw the Curtaines. O how does my Sonne? Me thinkes, he's ready to giue vp the ghoast. Destruction take thee and thy fatall tongue. Death, where's the Doctor?—A not thou the fact of that prodigious apparition sar'd vpon me in my dreame? The Doctor's come my Lord. Doctor! Behold two Patients, in whose thy skill may purchase an eternall fame. If thou hast any reading in Hipocrates, Galen, or Aice; if hearbs, or drugges, or mineralles haue any power to saue; Now let thy practise and their soueraigne vse, raise thee to wealth and honour. If any roote of life remaines within'em capable of Phisicke; feare'em not, my Lord. Ooh. His gasping sighes are like the falling noise of some great building when the ground-worke breakes. On these two pillars stood the stately frame, and architecture of my lotie house. An Earthquake shakes'em. The foundation shrinkes. Deere Nature! in whose honour I haue rais'd a worke of glory to posteritie; O burie not the pride of that great action, vnder the fall and ruine of it selfe. My Lord. These bodies are depriu'd of all the radicall abilitie of Nature. The heat of life is vtterly extinguish'd. Nothing remaines within the power of man that can restore them. Take this gold; extract the Spirit of it, and inspire new life into their bodies. Nothing can my Lord. You ha'not yet examin'd the true state and constitution of their bodies. Sure, you ha'not. I'le reserue their waters till the morning. Questionlesse, their vrines will informe you better. Ha, ha, ha. Do'st laugh thou villaine! must my wisedome that has beene the obiect of mens admiration, now become the subiect of thy laughter?