Jonson, Ben · published 1612 · first performed or written 1610 (Annals) comedy · King's Men T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.76 · 512 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
O, it is well, Sir. Subtle— DOst thou not laugh? Yes. Are they gone? All's clear. The Widow is come. And your quarreling Disciple? I. I must to my Captainship again, then. Stay, Bring 'em in, first. So I meant. What is she? A Bony-Bell?? I know not. We'll draw lots, You'll stand to that? What else? O, for a suit, To fall now, like a Curtain: Flap. To th'door, man. You'll ha'the first kiss, 'cause I am not ready. Yes, and perhaps hit you through both the nostrils. Who would you speak with? Where's the Captain? Gone, Sir, About some business. Gone? he'll return strait. But Mr. Doctor, his Lieutenant, is here. Come near, my Worshipful Boy, my Terre Fili, That is, my Boy of Land; Make thy approaches: Welcome, I know thy lusts, and thy desires, And I will serve, and satisfy 'hem. Begin. Charge me from thence, or thence, or in this line; Here is my Centre: Ground thy Quarrel. You lie. How, Child of wrath, and anger! The loud lie? For what, my so deign Boy? Nay, that look you too; I am aforehand. O, this's no true Grammar, And as ill Logic. You must render causes, Child, Your first, and second Intentions, know your Canons, And your Divisions, Moods, Degrees, and Differences, Your Predicaments, Substance, and Accident, Series extern, and intern, with their causes Efficient, 〈◊〉, formal, final, And ha' your elements perfect. What is this The angry tongue he talks in? That false precept, Of being aforehand, has deceived a number; And made 'em enter Quarrels, oftentimes, Before they were aware: and afterward. Against their wills. How must I do then, Sir? I cry this Lady mercy. She should, first, Have been saluted. I do call you Lady, Because you are to be one, ere't be long, My soft, and buxom Widow. Is she, i'faith? Yes, or my art is an egregio is liar. How know you? By inspection, on her forehead; An● subtlety of her lip, which must be tasted Often, to make a judgement 'Slight, she melts Like a Myrobalane! Here is, yet, a line In 〈◊〉 frontis, tells me, he is no Knight. What is he then, Sir? Let me see your Hand. O, your Linea Fortunae makes it plain; And 〈◊〉, here, in Monte veneris: But, most of all, Iactura annularis. He is a Soldier, or a Man of Art, Lady: But shall have some great honour, shortly. Brother, He's a rare man, believe me. Hold your peace. Here comes the other rare man. 'Save you Captain. Good Mr. Kastril. Is this your Sister? I Sir. Please you to kiss her, and be proud to know her? I shall be proud to know you, Lady. Brother, He calls me Lady, too. ay, peace. ay, heard it. The Count is come. Where is he? At the door. Why, you must entertain him. What●ll you do With these the while? Why have'hem up, and shew'hem Some Fustian Book, or the Dark Glass. 'Fore God, She is a delicate Dab chick! I must have her.
nodes 2536–2629 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 35 of 53 in this edition
Length
512 words · 788 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.758 (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)
O, it is well, Sir. Subtle— DOst thou not laugh? Yes. Are they gone? All's cleare. The Widdow is come. And your quarrelling Disciple? I. I must to my Captaine-ship againe, then. Stay, Bring 'hem in, first. So I meant. What is she? A Bony-Bell? ? I know not. We'll draw lotts, You'll stand to that? What else? O, for a suite, To fall now, like a Curtine: Flap. To th'dore, man. You'll ha'the first kisse, 'cause I am not ready. Yes, and perhaps hit you through both the nostrills. Who would you speake with? Where's the Captaine? Gone, Sir, About some busines. Gone? Hee'l returne straight. But Mr. Doctor, his Lieutenant, is here. Come nere, my Worshipfull Boy, my Terr Fili, That is, my Boy of Land; Make thy approches: Welcome, I know thy lusts, and thy desires, And I will serue, and satisfie 'hem. Beginne. Charge me from thence, or thence, or in this line; Here is my Center: Ground thy Quarrell. You lie. How, Child of wrath, and anger! The loud lie? For what, my so daine Boy? Nay, that looke you too; I am afore-hand. O, this's no true Grammar, And as ill Logick. You must render causes, Child, Your first, and second Intentions, know your Canons, And your Diuisions, Moodes, Degrees, and Differences, Your Praedicaments, Substance, and Accident, Series externe, and interne, with their causes Efficient, , formall, finall, And ha' your elments perfect. What is this The angry tongue he talkes in? That false praecept, Of being aforehand, has deceiu'd a number; And made 'hem enter Quarrells, oftentimes, Before they were aware: and afterward. Against their wlls. How must I doe then, Sir? I cry this Lady mercy. She should, first, Haue been saluted. I doe call you Lady, Because you are to be one, ere't be long, My soft, and buxome Widdow. Is she, i-faith? Yes, or my art is an egregio is liar. How know you? By inspection, on her forehead; An subtiltie of her lip, which must be tasted Often, to make a udgement 'Slight, she melts Like a Myrobalane! Here is, yet, a line In frontis, tels me, he is no Knight. What is he then, Sir? Let me see your Hand. O, your Linea Frtunae makes it plaine; And , here, in Monte veneris: But, most of all, Ictura annularis. He is a Souldier, or a Man of Art, Lady: But shall haue some great honour, shortly. Brother, He's a rare man, beleeue me. Hold your peace. Here comes the tother rare man. 'Saue you Captayne. Good Mr. Kastril. Is this your Sister? I Sir. Please you to kusse her, and be proud to know her? I shall be proud to know you, Lady. Brother, He calls me Lady, too. I, peace. I, heard it. The Count is come. Where is he? At the dore. Why, you must entertaine him. Whatll you doe With these the while? Why haue'hem vp, and shew'hem Some Fustian Booke, or the Darke Glasse. 'Fore God, She is a delicate Dab chick! I must haue her.