S., S. · published 1616 · first performed or written 1615 [c.1614-1615] (Annals) comedy · Queen Anne's Men T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.80 · 465 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
Why, let her croak the downfall of his house. What's that to me? prithee good Nice make haste. Nay, too much haste will make one stumble: and that's no good sign. Now, Valentine, Hast all things ready? how now— again? A toy comes in my head. Pox o' that head: more toys yet? How if a Cat sits on the Buttery hatch? Thou wouldst proceed no further. My Grandam told me that a Cat sitting on the hatch, was an ill sign. Mew. Beat her off, dash out her brains. Good Nice be not so curious. Oh Sir, it's good doubting the worst. Are all things ready, Valentine? this fool troubles me worse than the gout. Sir, the remedy is very painful. I could give a tedious course of physic, worse than any sickness. Keep you fasting sixteen days together, save the diet I give you. Bind you to the post of patience every day ten hours; and have one still pour scalding water on you: purge your very heart out: send your eyes out of their holes, to see how your feet do: make your guts bark worse, than an hundred dogs at a bearbaiting. But my medicine is sharp and short, but passing sure. Sir, there be four kinds of gout. No more of kinds. There's no gout kind to any man, I think, but to Physicians. Your remedy short-short. Sir, nothing: specially of no cost. Do y' see this tenpenny nail? Yes: What of that? This nail I must drive through your great toe. What? through the bone? Yes, bone & flesh too. Oh-oh-give me my money. This medicine's worse than any gout. Oh good Valentine, your tent's too long— Then sit and rot: be racked still, I'll be gone. Nay, good Valentine: would not a sixpenny nail serve? You'll be Physician, will you? If you'll sit down and be cured, so: if not, farewell. Nay, good Valentine:— even do thy will. Endure it manfully. It's but a brunt— so. You shall sit but a quarter of an hour, till I ha' been at the Apothecaries, and then I'll lose you. Now farewell, gouty fool, Thou took'st no purge, yet hast a most sharp stool. Pray heavens, this kill him not. Well, let him sit. And this shall go with me. I pray Sir take your case. This plot has took; try if some new may hit. Come-come-Valentine. Oh never was man so far in my bonds, as I am in this Physicians. H' has nailed me to him. That every whore in London, were but i' my case now. Why Valentine— Oh he's come. How now? are you returned? where's my mortgage? out Villains, where's my mortgage? Oh my toe— oh my mortgage. I'm undone. methinks you are too fast, Sir.
nodes 243–268 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 6 of 42 in this edition
Length
465 words · 648 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.802 (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)
Why, let her croke the downfall of his houſe. Whats that to me? prethee good Nice make haſte. Nay, too much haſte will make one ſtumble: and thats no good ſigne. Now, Valentine, Haſt all things ready? how now—againe? A toy comes in my head. Poxe o' that head: more toyes yet? How if a Catte ſits on the Buttry hatch? Thou we'ſt proceed no further. My Grandam told me that a Cat ſitting on the hatch, was an ill ſigne. Mew. Beate her off, daſh out her braines. Good Nice be not ſo curious. Oh Sir, it's good doubting the worſt. Are all things ready, Valentine? this foole troubles mee worſe then the gowte. Sir, the remedie is verie painfull. I could giue a tedious courſe of phyſicke, worſe then any ſickneſſe. Keepe you faſting ſixteene dayes together, ſaue the dyet I giue you. Binde you to the poſt of patience euery day tenne houres; and haue one ſtill poure ſcaulding water on you: purge your very heart out: ſend your eyes out of their holes, to ſee how your feete doe: make your guttes barke worſe, then an hundred dogges at a beare-bayting. But my medicine is ſharpe and ſhort, but paſsing ſure. Sir, there be foure kindes of gowte. No more of kinds. There's no gowte kind to any man, I thinke, but to Phyſicians. Your remedy ſhort-ſhort. Sir, nothing: ſpecially of no coſt. Do y' ſee this ten-penny naile? Yes: What of that? This naile I muſt driue through your great toe. What? through the bone? Yes, bone & fleſh too. Oh-oh-giue me my money. This medicine's worſe then any gowte. Oh good Valentine, your tent's too long—too long. Then ſit and rot: be rack'd ſtill, Ile be gone. Nay, good Valentine: would not a ſixe-penny naile ſerue? You'l be Phyſician, will you? If you'l ſit downe and be cur'd, ſo: if not, farewell. Nay, good Valentine:—euen do thy will. Endure it manfully. It's but a brunt—ſo. You ſhall ſit but a quarter of an houre, till I ha' been at the Apothecaries, and then Ile looſe you. Now farewell, gowty foole, Thou took'ſt no purge, yet haſt a moſt ſharpe ſtoole. Pray heauens, this kill him not. Well, let him ſit. And this ſhal go with me. I pray Sr take your caſe. This plot has tooke; try if ſome new may hit. Come-come-Valentine. Oh-neuer was man ſo farre in my bonds, as I am in this Phyſicians. H' has nayl'd me to him. That euery whore in London, were but i' my caſe now. Why Valentine— Oh he's come. How now? are you return'd? where's my morgage? out Villaines, where's my morgage? Oh my toe—oh my morgage. I'm vndone. Me thinkes you are too faſt, Sir.