Jonson, Ben · published 1612 · first performed or written 1610 (Annals) comedy · King's Men T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.73 · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
COme Lady: I knew, the Doctor would not leave, Till he had found the very nick of her fortune. To be a Countess say you? A Spanish Countess, Sir. Why? is that better than an English Countess? Better? 'Slight, make you that a question, Lady? Nay, she is a fool, Captain, you must pardon her. Ask from your Courtier, to your Inns of Courtman, To your mere Milliner; They will tell you all Your Spanish jennet is the best Horse. Your Spanish Stoop is the best Garb. Your Spanish Beard Is the best Cut. Your Spanish ruffs are the best Wear. Your Span 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the best Dance. Your Spanish 〈◊〉 in a Glove The best Perfume. And, for your Spanish Pike, And Spanish Blade, let your poor Captain speak. Here comes the Doctor. My most honoured Lady, For so I am now to style you, having found By this my scheme, you are to undergo An honourable fortune, very shortly. What will you say now, if some— I ha told her all, Sir. And her right worshipful Brother, here, that she shall be A Countess: do not delay 'em Sir. A Spanish Countess. Still, my scarce Worshipful Captain, you can keep No secret. Well, since he has told you, Madam, Do you forgive him, and I do She shall do that, Sir. I'll look to't, 'tis my charge Well then. Nought rests But that she fit her Love, now, to her fortune. Truly, I shall never brook a 〈◊〉. No? Never, sin eighty eat could I abide'hem. And that was some three year afore I was borne in truth. Come, you must love him, or be miserable: Choose, which you will. By this good rush, persuade her, She will cry strawberry else, within this twelvemonth. Nay, Shads, and Mackrell, which is worse. Indeed, Sir? God's lid. you shall love him, or I'll kick you. Why? I'll do as you will ha' me, Brother. Do, Or by this hand I'll maul you. Nay good Sir. Be not so fierce. No my enraged Child, She will be ruled. What when she comes to taste The pleasures of a Countess, to be courted— And kissed, and ruffled— ay, behind the hangings. And then come forth in pomp— And know her State— Of keeping all th' Idolaters o'the Chamber Barer to her, then at their prayers— Is served Upon the knee— And has her Pages, Ushers. Footmen, & Coaches— Her six Mares— Nay eight— To hurry her through London, to th' Exchange, Bedlam, the China-Houses— Yes, and have The Citizens gape at her, and praise her Tires, And My-Lords Goose turd bands, that rides with her. Most brave! By this hand, you are not my Sister, If you refuse. I will not refuse, Brother. Que es èsto Senores, que non seve●ga? Esta tardanza me mata! It is the Count come. The Doctor knew he would be here, by his Art. En Gallanta Madama, Don! Gallantissima!
nodes 2785–2861 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 38 of 53 in this edition
Length
492 words · 716 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.726 (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)
COme Lady: I knew, the Doctor would not leaue, Till he had found the very nick of her fortune. To be a Countesse say you? A Spanish Countesse, Sir. Why? is that better then an English Countesse? Better? 'Slight, make you that a question, Lady? Nay, she is a foole, Captaine, you must pardon her. Aske from your Courtier, to your Innes of Court-man, To your mere Millaner; They will tell you all Your Spanish Iennet is the best Horse. Your Spanish Stoupe is the best Garbe. Your Spanish Beard Is the best Cut. Your Spanish Ruffs are the best Weare. Your Span the best Daunce. Your Spanish in a Gloue The best Perfume. And, for your Spanish Pike, And Spanish Blade, let your poore Captaine speake. Here comes the Doctor. My most honor'd Lady, For so I am now to stile you, hauing found By this my scheme, you are to vndergoe An honourable fortune, very shortly. What will you say now, if some— I ha 'told her all, Sir. And her right worshipfull Brother, here, that she shall be A Countesse: doe not delay 'hem Sir. A Spanish Countesse. Still, my scarse Worshipfull Captaine, you can keepe No secret. Well, since he has told you, Madam, Doe you forgiue him, and I doe She shall doe that, Sir. I'le looke to't, 'tis my charge Well then. Nought rests But that she fit her Loue, now, to her fortune. Truely, I shall neuer brooke a . No? Neuer, sin eighty et could I abide'hem. And that was some three yeare afore I was borne in truth. Come, you must loue him, or be miserable: Choose, which you will. By this good rush, perswade her, She will cry Straw-berrie else, within this twelue-month. Nay, Shads, and Mackrll, which is worse. Indeed, Sir? Gods lid. you shall loue him, or Ile kick you. Why? Ile doe as you will ha' me, Brother. Doe, Or by this hand I'll maull you. Nay good Sir. Be not so fierce. No my enraged Child, She will be rul'd. What when she comes to tast The pleasures of a Countesse, to be courted— And kist, and ruffled— I, behind the hangings. And then come forth in pompe— And know her State— Of keeping all th' Idolaters o'the Chamber Barer to her, then at their prayers— Is seru'd Vpon the knee— And has her Pages, Huishers. Footmen, & Coaches— Her six Mares— Nay eight— To hurry her through London, to th' Exchange, Bet'lem, the China-Houses— Yes, and haue The Citizens gape at her, and praise her Tires, And My-Lords Goose turd bands, that rides with her. Most braue! By this hand, you are not my Suster, If you refuse. I will not refuse, Brother. Que es èsto Seores, que non sevega? Esta tardanza me mata! It is the Count come. The Doctor knew he would be here, by his Art. En Gallanta Madama, Don! Gallantissima!