Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1610 (Annals) comedy · King's Men T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.84 · 496 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
I should, sir, and the danger. You know I showed the statute to you? You did so. And will I tell, then? By this hand, of flesh, Would it might never wright good court-hand, more, If I discover. What do you think of me, That I am a Chiause? What's that? The Turk was, here— As one would say, do you think I am a Turk? I'll tell the Doctor so. Do, good sweet Captain. Come, noble Doctor, 'pray thee, let's prevail, This is the gentleman, and he is no Chiause. Captain, I have returned you all my answer. I would do much, sir, for your love— But this I neither may, nor can. Tut, do not say so. You deal, now, with a noble fellow, Doctor, One that will thank you, richly, and he's no Chiause: Let that, sir, move you. Pray you, forbear— He has four angels, here— You do me wrong, good sir. Doctor, wherein? To tempt you, with these spirits? To tempt my art, and love, sir, to my peril. 'Fore heaven, I scarce can think you are my friend, That so would draw me to apparent danger. I draw you? A horse draw you, and a halter, You, and your flies together— Nay, good Captain. That know no difference of men. Good words, sir. Good deeds, sir, Doctor dogs-meate. 'Slight I bring you No cheating Clim-o'the-Cloughs, or CLARIBELS, That look as big as five-and-fiftie, and flush, And spit out secrets, like hot custard— Captain. Nor any melancholic under-scribe, Shall tell the Vicar: but, a special gentle, That is the heir to forty marks, a year, Consorts with the small poets of the time, Is the sole hope of his old grandmother, That knows the law, and writes you six fair hands, Is a fine clerk, and has his cyphring perfect, Will take his oath, o'the greek XENOPHON, If need be, in his pocket: and can court His mistress, out of OVID. Nay, dear Captain. Did you not tell me, so? Yes, but I'd ha' you Use master Doctor, with some more respect. Hang him proud stag, with his broad velvet head. But, for your sake, I'd choke, ere I would change An article of breath, with such a puckfist— Come let's begone. Pray you, le'me speak with you. His worship calls you, Captain. I am sorry, I e'er embarked myself, in such a business. Nay, good sir. He did call you. Will he take, then? First, hear me— Not a syllable, 'less you take. Pray ye, sir— Upon no terms, but an assumpsit. Your humour must be law. Why now, sir, talk. Now, I dare hear you with mine honour. Speak. So may this gentleman too. Why, sir— No whispering. 'Fore heaven, you do not apprehend the loss You do you self, in this. Wherein? For what? Marry, to be so'importunate for one, That, when he has it, will undo you all: he'll win up all the money i'the town. How!
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 308–387 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 5 of 40 in this edition
Length
496 words · 736 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.841 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
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)
I should, sir, and the danger. You know I shew'd the statute to you? You did so. And will I tell, then? By this hand, of flesh, Would it might neuer wright good court-hand, more, If I discouer. What doe you thinke of me, That I am a Chiause? What's that? The Turke was, here— As one would say, doe you thinke I am a Turke? I'll tell the Doctor so. Doe, good sweet Captaine. Come, noble Doctor, 'pray thee, let's preuaile, This is the gentleman, and he is no Chiause. Captaine, I haue return'd you all my answere. I would doe much, sir, for your loue— But this I neither may, nor can. Tut, doe not say so. You deale, now, with a noble fellow, Doctor, One that will thanke you, richly, and h'is no Chiause: Let that, sir, moue you. Pray you, forbeare— He has Foure angels, here— You doe me wrong, good sir. Doctor, wherein? To tempt you, with these spirits? To tempt my art, and loue, sir, to my perill. 'Fore heau'n, I scarse can thinke you are my friend, That ſo would draw me to apparant danger. I draw you? A horſe draw you, and a halter, You, and your flies together— Nay, good Captayne. That know no difference of men. Good wordes, ſir. Good deeds, ſir, Doctor dogs-meate. 'Slight I bring you No cheating CLIM-o' the-CLOVGHS, or CLARIBELS, That looke as bigge as fiue-and-fiftie, and fluſh, And ſpit out ſecrets, like hot cuſtard— Captayne. Nor any melancholike vnder-ſcribe, Shall tell the Vicar: but, a ſpeciall gentle, That is the heire to fortie markes, a yeere, Conſorts with the ſmall poets of the time, Is the ſole hope of his old grand-mother, That knowes the law, and writes you ſixe faire hands, Is a fine clarke, and has his cyphring perfect, Will take his oath, o'the greeke XENOPHON, If need be, in his pocket: and can court His miſtris, out of OVID. Nay, deare Captayne. Did you not tell me, ſo? Yes, but I'ld ha' you Vſe maſter Doctor, with ſome more reſpect. Hang him proud ſtagge, with his broad veluet head. But, for your ſake, I'ld choake, ere I would change An article of breath, with ſuch a puck-fiſt— Come let's begone. Pray you, le'me ſpeake with you. His worſhip calls you, Captayne. I am ſorry, I e're imbarqu'd my ſelfe, in ſuch a buſineſſe. Nay, good ſir. He did call you. Will he take, then? Firſt, heare me— Not a ſyllable, 'leſſe you take. Pray ye', ſir— Vpon no termes, but an aſſumpſit. Your humor muſt be law. Why now, ſir, talke. Now, I dare heare you with mine honour. Speake. So may this gentleman too. Why, ſir— No whiſpring. 'Fore heau'n, you doe not apprehend the loſſe You doe you ſelfe, in this. Wherein? For what? Mary, to be ſo'importunate for one, That, when he has it, will vn-doe you all: Hee'll winne vp all the money i'the towne. How!