Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1609 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.80 · 491 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
How do you feel yourself, sir? Again, that! Nay, look you, sir: you would be friends with your wife upon un-conscionable terms, her silence— They say you are run mad, sir. Not for love, I assure you, of you; do you see? O lord, gentlemen! Lay hold on him for gods sake: what shall I do? who's his physician (can you tell) that knows the state of his body best, that I might send for him? Good sir, speak. I'll send for one of my doctors else. What, to poison me, that I might die intestate, and leave you possessed of all? Lord, how idly he talks, and how his eyes sparkle! He looks green about the temples! Do you see what blue spots he has? I, it's melancholy. Gentlemen, for heavens sake counsel me. Ladies! Servant, you have read PLINY, and PARACELSUS: ne'er a word now to comfort a poor gentlewoman? Ay me! what fortune had I to marry a distracted man? I'll tell you, mistress— How rarely she holds it up! What mean you, gentlemen? What will you tell me, servant? The disease in Greek is called, in Latin, Insania, Furor, vel Ecstasis melancholica, that is, Egressio, when a man ex melancholico, evadit fanaticus. Shall I have a lecture read upon me alive? But he may be but Phreneticus, yet, mistress? and Phrenetis is only delirium, or so— I, that is for the disease, servant: but what is this to the cure? we are sure enough of the disease. Let me go. Why, we'll entreat her to hold her peace, sir. O, no. Labour not to stop her. She is like a conduit-pipe, that will gush out with more force, when she opens again. I'll tell you, MOROSE, you must talk divinity to him altogether, or moral philosophy. I, and there's an excellent book of moral philosophy, madame, of RAYNARD the fox, and all the beasts, called, DONES philosophy. There is, indeed, sir AMOROUS LA-FOOLE. O misery! I have read it, my lady CENTAURE, all over to my cousin, here. I, and 'tis a very good book as any is, of the Moderns. Tut, he must have SENECA read to him, and PLUTARCH, and the Ancients; the Moderns are not for this disease. Why, you discommended them too, to day, sir JOHN. I, in some cases: but in these they are best, and ARISTOTLE'S Ethics. Say you so, sir JOHN? I think you are deceived: you took it upon trust. Where's TRUSTY, my woman? I'll end this difference. I prithee, OTTER, call her. Her father and mother were both mad, when they put her to me. I think so. Nay, gentlemen, I am tame. This is but an exercise, I know, a marriage ceremony, which I must endure. And one of 'em (I know not which) was cured with the Sick-man's salve; and the other with GREEN'S groatsworth of wit. A very cheap cure, madame. I, it very feasible.
nodes 849–884 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 38 of 58 in this edition
Length
491 words · 728 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.799 (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)
How doe you feele your selfe, sir? Againe, that! Nay, looke you, sir: you would be friends with your wife vpon vn-conscionable termes, her silence— They say you are run mad, sir. Not for loue, I assure you, of you; doe you see? O lord, gentlemen! Lay hold on him for gods sake: what shal I doe? who's his physitian (can you tel) that knowes the state of his body best, that I might send for him? Good sir, speake. I'll send for one of my doctors else. What, to poyson me, that I might die intestate, and leaue you possest of all? Lord, how idly he talkes, and how his eyes sparkle! He lookes greene about the temples! Doe you see what blue spots he has? I, it's melancholy. Gentlemen, for heauens sake counsell me. Ladies! Seruant, you haue read PLINY, and PARACELSVS: Ne're a word now to comfort a poore gentlewoman? Ay me! what fortune had I to marry a distracted man? I'll tell you, mistris— How rarely shee holds it vp! What meane you, gentlemen? What will you tell me, seruant? The disease in Greeke is called , in Latine, Insania, Furor, vel Ecstasis melancholica, that is, Egressio, when a man ex melancholico, euadit fanaticus. Shall I haue a lecture read vpon me aliue? But he may be but Phreneticus, yet, mistris? and Phrenetis is only delirium, or so— I, that is for the disease, seruant: but what is this to the cure? we are sure inough of the disease. Let me goe. Why, wee'll intreat her to hold her peace, sir. O, no. Labour not to stop her. Shee is like a conduit-pipe, that will gush out with more force, when shee opens againe. I'll tell you, MOROSE, you must talke diuinitie to him altogether, or morall philosophie. I, and there's an excellent booke of morall philosophie, madame, of RAYNARD the foxe, and all the beasts, call'd, DONES philosophie. There is, indeed, sir AMOROVS LA-FOOLE. O miserie! I haue read it, my lady CENTAVRE, all ouer to my cousin, here. I, and 'tis a very good booke as any is, of the Modernes. Tut, hee must haue SENECA read to him, and PLVTARCH, and the Ancients; the Modernes are not for this disease. Why, you discommended them too, to day, sir IOHN. I, in some cases: but in these they are best, and ARISTOTLES Ethicks. Say you so, sir IOHN? I thinke you are deceiu'd: you tooke it vpon trust. Where's TRVSTY, my woman? I'll end this difference. I pr'ythee, OTTER, call her. Her father and mother were both mad, when they put her to me. I thinke so. Nay, gentlemen, I am tame. This is but an exercise, I know, a marriage ceremonie, which I must endure. And one of 'hem (I know not which) was cur'd with the Sickmans salue; and the other with GREENES groates-worth of wit. A very cheape cure, madame. I, it very faesible.