Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1610 (Annals) comedy · King's Men T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.63 · 454 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.
he's busy with his spirits, but we'll upon him. How now! What mates? What Bairards' ha' we here? I told you, he would be furious. Sir, here's NAB, Has brought yo' another old piece of gold, to look on: (We must appease him. Give it me) and prays you, You would devise (what is it NAB?) A sign, sir. I, a good lucky one, a thriving sign, Doctor. I was devising now. ('Slight, do not say so, He will repent he give you any more.) What say you to his constellation, Doctor? The Balance? Not, that way is stolen, and common. A townsman, borne in Taurus, gives the bull Or the bulls-head: in Aries, the ram. A poor deuice. No, I will haue nis name Formed in some mystic character; whose radij, Striking the senses of the passers by, Shall, by a virtual influence, breed affections, That may result upon the party owns it: As thus— NAB! He first shall have a bell, that's ABEL; And, by it, standing one, whose name is d'ee, In a rug gown; there's D. and Rug, that's DRUG: And, right anent him, a Dog snarling Er; There's DRUGGER, ABEL DRUGGER. That's his sign. And here's now mystery, and hieroglyphic! ABEL, thou art made. Sir, I do thank his worship. six o'thy legs more, will not do it, NAB. He has brought you a pipe of tobacco, Doctor. Yes, sir: I have another thing, I would impart— Out with it, NAB. Sir, there is lodged, hard by me, A rich young widow— Good! a bona roba? But nineteen, at the most. Very good, ABEL. marry, she's not in fashion, yet; she wears A hood: but 't stands a cop. No matter, ABEL. And, I do, now and then give her a fucus— What! dost thou deal, NAB? I did tell you, Captain. And physic too sometime, sir: for which she trusts me With all her mind. she's come up here, of purpose To learn the fashion. Good (his match too!) on, NAB. And she does strangely long to know her fortune. God's lid, NAB, Send her to the Doctor, hither. Yes, I have spoke to her of his worship, already: But she's afraid, it will be blown abroad And hurt her marriage. Hurt it? 'Tis the way To heal it, if 'twere hurt; to make it more Followed, and sought: NAB, thou shalt tell her this. she'll be more known, more talked of, and your widows Are ne'er of any price till they be famous; Their honour is their multitude of suitors: Send her, it may be thy good fortune. What? Thou dost not know. No, sir, she'll never marry Under a knight. Her brother has made a vow.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1548–1613 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 21 of 40 in this edition
Length
454 words · 679 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.634 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T4 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
H'Is buſie with his ſpirits, but wee'll vpon him. How now! What mates? What Bairards ha' wee here? I told you, he would be furious. Sir, here's NAB, Has brought yo' another old piece of gold, to looke on: (We muſt appeaſe him. Giue it me) and prayes you, You would deuiſe (what is it NAB?) A ſigne, ſir. I, a good lucky one, a thriuing ſigne, Doctor. I was deuiſing now. ('Slight, doe not ſay ſo, He will repent he ga' you any more.) What ſay you to his conſtellation, Doctor? The Ballance? Not, that way is ſtale, and common. A townes-man, borne in Taurus, giues the bull Or the bulls-head: in Aries, the ram. A poor deuice. No, I will haue nis name Form'd in some mystick character; whose radij, Striking the senses of the passers by, Shall, by a vertuall influence, breed affections, That may result vpon the partie ownes it: As thus— NAB! He first shall haue a bell, that's ABEL; And, by it, standing one, whose name is DEE, In a rugg gowne; there's D. and Rug, that's DRVG: And, right anenst him, a Dog snarling Er; There's DRVGGER, ABEL DRVGGER. That's his signe. And here's now mysterie, and hieroglyphick! ABEL, thou art made. Sir, I doe thanke his worship. Sixe o'thy legs more, will not doe it, NAB. He has brought you a pipe of tabacco, Doctor. Yes, sir: I haue another thing, I would impart— Out with it, NAB. Sir, there is lodg'd, hard by me, A rich yong widdow— Good! a bona roba? But nineteene, at the most. Very good, ABEL. Mary, sh'is not in fashion, yet; shee weares A hood: but 't stands a cop. No matter, ABEL. And, I doe, now and then giue her a fucus— What! dost thou deale, NAB? I did tell you, Captaine. And physick too sometime, sir: for which shee trusts me With all her mind. Shee's come vp here, of purpose To learne the fashion. Good (his match too!) on, NAB. And shee do's strangely long to know her fortune. Gods lid, NAB, Send her to the Doctor, hether. Yes, I haue spoke to her of his worship, alreadie: But shee's afraid, it will be blowne abroad And hurt her marriage. Hurt it? 'Tis the way To heale it, if 'twere hurt; to make it more Follow'd, and sought: NAB, thou shalt tell her this. Shee'll be more knowne, more talk'd of, and your widdowes Are ne'er of any price till they be famous; Their honour is their multitude of sutors: Send her, it may be thy good fortune. What? Thou dost not know. No, sir, shee'll neuer marry Vnder a knight. Her brother has made a vow.