Chapman, George · published 1612 · first performed or written 1604 [1604-1605] (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T3 Sickness, physic and doctors · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
Idle discourser. No, your moans are idle. Go to I say, be counselled; raise yourself: Enjoy the fruits of life, there's viands for you, Now, live for a better husband. No? will you none? For love of courtesy, good Mistress, eat, Do not reject so kind and sweet an offer, Who knows but this may be some Mercurie Disguised, and sent from Iuno to relieve us? Did ever any lend unwilling ears To those that came with messages of life? I pray thee leave thy Rhetoric. By my soul; to speak plain truth, I could rather wish t'employ my teeth then my tongue, so your example would be my warrant. Thou hast my warrant. Well then, eat my wench, Let obstinacy starve. Fall to. Persuade my Mistress first. 'slight tell me Lady, Are you resolved to die? If that be so, Choose not (for shame) a base, and beggar's death: Die not for hunger, like a Spartan Lady; Fall valiantly upon a sword, or drink Noble death, expel your grief with poison. There 'tis, seize it.— Tush you dare not die. Come Wench thou hast not lost a husband; Thou shalt eat, thouart now within The place where I command. I protest sir. Well said; eat, and protest, or I'll protest And do thou eat; thou eatest against thy will, That's it thou wouldst say. It is. And under such a protestation Thou lost' thy Maidenhead. For your own sake good Lady forget this husband, Come you are now become a happy Widow, A blessedness that many would be glad of. That and your husband's Inventory together, Will raise you up husbands enough. What think you of me? Trifler, pursue this wanton Theme no further; Lest (which I would be loath) your speech provoke uncivil language from me; I must tell you, One joint of him I lost, was much more worth Than the racked value of thy entire body. O know what joint she means. Well, I have done. And well done frailty; proface, how lik'st thou it. Very toothsome ingredients surely sir, Want but some liquor to incorporate them. There 'tis, carouse. I humbly thank you Sir. Hold pledge me now. 'tis the poison Sir, That preserves life, I take it. Do so, take it. Sighing has made me something short-winded. I'll pledge y'at twice. 'tis well done; do me right. I pray sir, have you been a Pothecary? Marry have I wench; A woman's Pothecary. Have you good Ingredients? I like your Bottle well. Good Mistress taste it. Try but the operation, 'twill fetch up The Roses in your cheeks again. Doctor Verolles' bottles are not like it; There's no Guaicum here, I can assure you. This will do well anon. Now fie upon't. O I have lost my tongue in this same limbo. The spring ants, spoiled methinks; it goes not off With the old twang. Well said wench, oil it well; 'twill make it slide well. Aristotle says sir, in his posteriors.
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)
Idle discourser. No, your moanes are idle. Goe to I say, be counsail'd; raise your selfe: Enioy the fruits of life, there's viands for you, Now, liue for a better husband. No? will you none? For loue of courtesie, good Mistris, eate, Doe not reiect so kinde and sweet an offer, Who knowes but this may be some Mercurie Disguis'de, and sent from Iuno to relieue vs? Did euer any lend vnwilling eares To those that came with messages of life? I pray thee leaue thy Rhetorique. By my soule; to speake plaine truth, I could rather wish t'employ my teeth then my tongue, so your example would be my warrant. Thou hast my warrant. Well then, eate my wench, Let obstinacie starue. Fall to. Perswade my Mistris first. Slight tell me Ladie, Are you resolu'd to die? If that be so, Choose not (for shame) a base, and beggars death: Die not for hunger, like a Spartane Ladie; Fall valiantly vpon a sword, or drinke Noble death, expell your griefe with poison. There 'tis, seize it.—Tush you dare not die. Come Wench thou hast not lost a husband; Thou shalt eate, th'art now within The place where I command. I protest sir. Well said; eate, and protest, or Ile protest And doe thou eate; thou eat'st against thy will, That's it thou would'st say. It is. And vnder such a protestation Thou lost' thy Maiden-head. For your owne sake good Ladie forget this husband, Come you are now become a happy Widdow, A blessednesse that many would be glad of. That and your husbands Inuentorie together, Will raise you vp husbands enow. What thinke you of me? Trifler, pursue this wanton Theame no further; Lest (which I would be loth) your speech prouoke Vnciuill language from me; I must tell you, One ioynt of him I lost, was much more worth Then the rackt valew of thy entire bodie. O know what ioynt shee meanes. Well, I haue done. And well done frailtie; proface, how lik'st thou it. Very toothsome Ingrediens surely sir, Want but some lycor to incorporate them. There tis, carouse. I humbly thanke you Sir. Hold pledge me now. Tis the poison Sir, That preserues life, I take it. Doe so, take it. Sighing has made me somthing short-winded. Ile pledge y'at twice. Tis well done; doe me right. I pray sir, haue you beene a Pothecarie? Marrie haue I wench; A womans Pothecarie. Haue you good Ingredients? I like your Bottle well. Good Mistris tast it. Trie but the operation, twill fetch vp The Roses in your cheekes againe. Doctor Verolles bottles are not like it; There's no Guaicum here, I can assure you. This will doe well anone. Now fie vpon't. O I haue lost my tongue in this same lymbo. The spring ants, spoil'd me thinkes; it goes not off With the old twange. Well said wench, oile it well; twill make it slide well. Aristotle saies sir, in his Posterionds.