S., S. · published 1616 · first performed or written 1615 [c.1614-1615] (Annals) comedy · Queen Anne's Men T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.83 · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
A good harmless Constable, a thief may take him napping. An't please your worship, the rude Ragamuffin comes into my house, calls for drink; and when the Tapster came with a reckoning, he broke the pot about's head; because he had not a clean Apron on. No, because he misreckoned me. Whose fault was it, to wipe out the score? Not mine. Indeed I anointed the score with butter, and the Tapsters own dog licked it out. Uncle, uncle, as sure as my watch is lost, this is master Valentine the Physician. Oh Coz, that it were true. Pray Sir, let me move a question. You may command my answer Sir, you're a justice. Were not you the man, that healed me o' the Gout? Troth Sir, I have done so many cures, that I forget a number of my patients. Th'other day I cured a lunatic Cobbler, pitifully run out at soul, when he was given over by the Physicians. I let him blood, took three Hen-eggs, sucked 'em out, into the shells I put his blood, set them under a brood-Goose. When she had hatched the rest, I gave these three putrefied eggs to a Dog: the Dog grew mad, the Cobbler sober. And now my memory runs back, I call to mind one of Bedford, sick of the Gout, whom I cured. I am the man, my renowned Paracelsian: thou shalt have the other 25. pound. Constable, I discharge you. Ostice, I'll see you paid: set your reckoning on my score: trouble me no further: leave us, leave us. Now my deep diver into the secrets of nature, I have a cure for thee, more desperate than the former. What is't Sir, that my Art cannot extend to? The stone, the stone: I am pitifully gripped with the stone, I ha'lost my pissing. Sir, the disease is somewhat dangerous. Yet if that your expulsive faculty Retain true force, I'll warrant to make you piss. I must awhile withdraw to study Sir.— Now am I puzzled: blood, what medicine Should I devise to do't? It must be violent. Give him some Aquafortis; that would speed him. Let's see. methinks— a little Gunpowder Should have some strange relation to this fit. I have seen Gunpowder oft drive out stones From Forts and Castle-walls, huger than he Has any in his reins or bladder, sure. Faith, 'cause I am a soldier, I'll make trial Of that same black and vaporous Mineral. I'll shoot into his belly: if the gun hold, I'll give him charge enough: some Aquavitae First brewed together would allay it well. I'll swear to try it, if I do not miss, By a strange trick I'll make my Usurer piss. Sir, I'll go in and prepare for aou. Do so. Here, Thirsty, there be the Keys of the Buttery: attend upon him good Thirsty: let him lack nothing, as thou lov'st me.
nodes 1075–1108 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 24 of 42 in this edition
Length
485 words · 682 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.826 (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)
A good harmeleſſe Conſtable, a theefe may take him napping. An't pleaſe your worſhip, the rude Raggamuſſin comes into my houſe, cals for drinke; and when the Tapſter came with a reckoning, he broke the pot about's head; becauſe he had not a cleane Apron on. No, becauſe he miſreckoned me. Whoſe fault was it, to wipe out the ſcore? Not mine. Indeede I anointed the ſcore with butter, and the Tapſters owne dog lick't it out. Vncle, vncle, as ſure as my watch is loſt, this is maſter Valentine the Phyſician. Oh Coz, that it were true. Pray' Sir, let me mooue a queſtion. You may command my anſwer Sir, y' are a Iuſtice. Were not you the man, that heald me o' the Gowt? Troth Sir, I haue done ſo many cures, that I forget a number of my patients. Th'other day I cured a lunaticke Cobler, pitifully run out at ſoule, when hee was giuen ore by the Phyſicians. I let him bloud, tooke three Hen-egges, ſuck'd 'hem out, into the ſhels I put his bloud, ſet them vnder a brood-Gooſe. When ſhe had hatcht the reſt, I gaue theſe three putrified egges to a Dogge: the Dogge grew madde, the Cobler ſober. And now my memorie runs backe, I call to mind one of Bedford, ſicke of the Gowt, whom I cured. I am the man, my renowned Paracelſian: thou ſhalt haue the other 25. pound. Conſtable, I diſcharge you. Oſtice, I'le ſee you payd: ſet your recknoning on my ſcore: trouble me no further: leaue vs, leaue vs. Now my deepe diuer into the ſecrets of nature, I haue a cure for thee, more deſperate then the former. What is't Sir, that my Art cannot extend to? The ſtone, the ſtone: I am pittifully grip'd with the ſtone, I ha'loſt my piſſing. Sir, the diſeaſe is ſomewhat dangerous. Yet if that your expulſiue facultie Retaine true force, I'le warrant to make you piſſe. I muſt awhile withdraw to ſtudy Sir.— Now am I puzzled: bloud, what medicine Should I deuiſe to do't? It muſt be violent. Giue him ſome Aqua-fortis; that would ſpeed him. Let's ſee. Me thinks—a little Gun-powder Should haue ſome ſtrange relation to this fit. I haue ſeene Gun-powder oft driue out ſtones From Forts and Caſtle-walls, huger then he Has any in his reynes or bladder, ſure. Faith,' cauſe I am a ſouldier, i'le make triall Of that ſame blacke and vaporous Minerall. I'le ſhoote into his belly: if the gunne hold, I▪le giue him charge enough: ſome Aquavitae Firſt brewd together would allay it well. Ile ſweare to try it, if I doe not miſſe, By a ſtrange tricke Ile make my Vſurer piſſe. Sir, Ile goe in and prepare for aou. Doe ſo. Here, Thirſty, there be the Keys of the Buttry: attend vpon him good Thirsty: let him lacke nothing, as thou lou'ſt me.