Jonson, Ben · published 1612 · first performed or written 1610 (Annals) comedy · King's Men T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.62 · 474 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
Can you remember this? I warrant you. Well, then, away. 'Tis, but your bestowing Some twenty nobles, 'mong her Grace's Servants; And, put on a clean shirt: You do not know What grace her Grace may do you in clean linen. COme in. Good wives, I pray you forbear me, now. Troth I can do you no good, till afternoon. What is your name, say you, Abel Drugger? Yes, Sir. A seller of Tobacco? Yes, Sir. Vmh. Free of the Grocers? ay, and't please you. Well. Your business, Abel? This, and't please your worship, I'm a young beginner, and am building Of a new shop, and't like your worship; just, At corner of a street: (Here's the plot on't.) And I would know, by art, Sir, of your Worship, Which way I should make my door, by Necromantie. And, where my Shelves. And, which should be for Boxes, And, which for Potts, I would be glad to thrive, Sir. And, I was wished to your Worship, by a Gentleman, One Captain Face, that says you know men's Planets, And their good Angels, and their bad. I do If I do see'hem. What! my honest Abel? Thou art well met, here. Troth, Sir, I was speaking, Just, as your Worship came here, of your Worship. I pray you, speak for me to Mr. Doctor. He shall do any thing. Doctor, do you hear? This is my friend, Abel, an honest fellow, He lets me have good Tobacco, and he does not Sophisticate it, with Sack-lees, or Oil, Nor washes it in Muscadel, and Grains, Nor buries it, in gravel, under ground, Wrapped up in greasy leather, or pissed clouts: But keeps it in fine Lily-pots, that opened, Smell like conserve of Roses, or French Beans. He has his Maple block, his silver tongues, Winchester pipes, and fire of juniper. A neat, spruce-honest-fellow, and no Goldmith. he's a fortunate fellow, that I am sure on. Already, Sir, ha'you found it? Lo'thee Abel! And, in right way toward riches. Sir. This Summer. He will be of the Clothing of his company. And, next spring, called to the Scarlet. Spend what he can. What, and so little beard? Sir, you must think, He may have a receipt, to make hair come. But he'll be wise, preserve his youth, and fine for't: His fortune looks for him, another way. 'Slid, Doctor, how canst thou know this so soon? I'm amused, at that! By a rule, Captain, In Metaposcopy, which I do work by, A certain Star i'the forehead, which you see not. Your Chest-nut, or your Olive-colourd face Does never fail: and your long Ear doth promise. I knew't, by certain spots too, in his teeth, And on the nail of his Mercurial finger. Which finger's that? His little finger, Look. Yo'were borne upon a Wednesday. Yes, indeed, Sir.
nodes 526–597 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 8 of 53 in this edition
Length
474 words · 708 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.620 (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)
Can you remember this? I warrant you. Well, then, away. 'Tis, but your bestowing Some twenty nobles, 'mong her Graces Seruants; And, put on a cleane shirt: You doe not know What grace her Grace may doe you in cleane linnen. COme in. Good wiues, I pray you forbeare me, now. Troth I can doe you no good, till afternoone. What is your name, say you, Abel Drugger? Yes, Sir. A seller of Tobacco? Yes, Sir. 'Vmh. Free of the Grocers? I, and't please you. Well. Your busines, Abel? This, and't please your worship, I'am a yong beginner, and am building Of a new shop, and't like your worship; iust, At corner of a street: (Here's the plot on't.) And I would know, by art, Sir, of your Worship, Which way I should make my dore, by Necromantie. And, where my Shelues. And, which should be for Boxes, And, which for Potts, I would be glad to thriue, Sir. And, I was wish'd to your Worship, by a Gentleman, One Captaine Face, that say's you know mens Planets, And their good Angels, and their bad. I doe If I doe see'hem. VVhat! my honest Abel? Thou art well met, here. Troth, Sir, I was speaking, Iust, as your VVorship came here, of your VVorship. I pray you, speake for me to Mr. Doctor. He shall doe any thing. Doctor, doe you heare? This is my friend, Abel, an honest fellow, He lets me haue good Tobacco, and he do's not Sophisticate it, with Sack-lees, or Oyle, Nor washes it in Muscadell, and Graines, Nor buries it, in grauell, vnder ground, Wrap'd vp in greasie leather, or piss'd cloutes: But keepes it in fine Lilly-pots, that open'd, Smell like conserue of Roses, or French Beanes. He has his Maple block, his siluer tongs, Winchester pipes, and fire of Iuniper. A neate, spruce-honest-fellow, and no Goldmith. H'is a fortunate fellow, that I am sure on. Already, Sir, ha'you found it? Lo'thee Abel! And, in right way to'ward riches. Sir. This Summer. He will be of the Clothing of his company. And, next spring, call'd to the Scarlet. Spend what he can. What, and so little beard? Sir, you must thinke, He may haue a receipt, to make hayre come. But he'll be wise, preserue his youth, and fine for't: His fortune lookes for him, another way. 'Slid, Doctor, how canst thou know this so soone? I'am amus'd, at that! By a rule, Captayne, In Metaposcopie, which I doe worke by, A certaine Starre i'the forehead, which you see not. Your Chest-nut, or your Oliue-colourd face Do's neuer fayle: and your long Eare doth promise. I knew't, by certaine spotts too, in his teeth, And on the nayle of his Mercurial finger. Which finger's that? His little finger, Looke. Yo'were borne vpon a Wensday. Yes, indeed, Sir.