S., S. · published 1616 · first performed or written 1615 [c.1614-1615] (Annals) comedy · Queen Anne's Men unassigned nearest T3 Sickness, physic and doctors · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
Upon my life, he'll kill her. O presumption, How dost thou dare heavens justice? I must study To interpose prevention. Sir, I'm your son: This breast you gave me, and I'll still conserve it, A faithful closet to lock up your secrets. How will you strike? Pistol her? No: that speaks Like an obstreperous Advocate, too loud, In th'cares of justice. Murder, like your Jesuit, Should whisper death in silence— I apprehend it, poison. Sir, I'll buy you A speedy potion. Not too dear, good son. I would not ha''t too dear: my money's gone. Two pennyworth of Ratsbane, w' have experience, we'll do't; do't thoroughly. I'll provide it, Sir. I'll be your Apothecary; but by no means Minister it myself. You must do that, Sir: I cannot do you better service. Rare! Then bring my father to the Galhouse. Be petulant, and let your wanton mirth, Give you forgetful of all wrong. Come widow, I forgive thee now: I hope thou'lt forgive me too. I'm come to drink down all malice. Pray Sir, lead the way. I'll follow. Look up, dear friend: what thus dejects you? Wonders, miracles— I must needs poison thee. Be not dismayed, my poison shall not hurt thee: I'll tell thee all Hostess, Pray' help me to the money quickly. I must pay't instantly. You shall Sir. So, if my new-born plots hold constant life, I'll cheat my thieves, but above all, my wife. Thank you, good Widow. Youth, tell the Gentlemen I'm gone to tender the money. Bid 'em be merry and continue their healths. I'll take my round, when I come again. Farewell Ostice. You're welcome Sir, Gone, sayst thou? and with the money? fire and gunpowder! how are we blown up? Pretty handsome! Ostice— Good leech, stand further off: your breath's too violent. Did we not charge you not to deliver the money, but to us all three together? Mass, 'tis true. How forgetfully are we cheated? You are a cozening woman. You do lie! Keep the peace. Ostice, you'll make it good to us, three hundred pound, a pretty competent sum. Furies and Fiends! wits, you do fairly strive. I thought this fairy money would near thrive. I have heard all this roguery. Cheer, Widow: let not sorrow make thee sick. Perhaps, I'll catch the knaves at their own trick. So ho-my master's turned Reveller. I never lost my name since I came into his service, till now. uck! a miracle, I am not Thirsty. Now my wise kindred, why look you so pale? O, I'll put off my wedding. I will not for all Bedford marry tomorrow. No? why? O, my Uncle reaching for a Cup, overthrew the salt towards me— towards me. O 'tis ominous. The falling of a salt keep thee from marriage! well, I have a strange medicine, of quick cure to this conceited sickness. Robin, fetch me some wine. Coz, how dost feel thyself?
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Vpon my life, he'll kill her. O preſumption, How doſt thou dare heauens iuſtice? I muſt ſtudy To interpoſe prevention. Sir, I'm your ſonne: This breſt you gaue me, and Ile ſtill conſerue it, A faithfull cloſet to locke vp your ſecrets. How will you ſtrike? Piſtoll her? No: that ſpeakes Like an obſtreperous Aduocate, too loud, In th'cares of iuſtice. Murder, like your Ieſuite, Should whiſper death in ſilence—ſleeping ſilence. I apprehend it, poyſon. Sir, Ile buy you A ſpeedy potion. Not too deare, good ſonne. I would not ha't too deare: my mony's gone. Two peny-woorth of Rats-bane, w' haue experience, W'll do't; do't throughly. Ile prouide it, Sir. Ile be your Apothecarie; but by no meanes Miniſter it my ſelfe. You muſt do that, Sir: I cannot doe you better ſeruice. Rare! Then bring my father to the Galhouſe. Be petulant, and let your wanton mirth, Giue you forgetfull of all wrong. Come widow, I forgiue thee now: I hope thou't forgiue me too. I'm come to drinke downe all malice. Pray' Sir, lead the way. Ile follow. Looke vp, deare friend: what thus deiects you? Wonders, miracles—I muſt needs poyſon thee. Be not diſmay'd, my poyſon ſhall not hurt thee: Ile tell thee all▪ Hoſtice, Pray 'helpe me to the money quickly. I muſt pay't inſtantly. You ſhall Sir. So, if my new-borne plots hold conſtant life▪ Ile cheate my theeues, but aboue all, my wife. Thanke you, good Widow. Youth, tel the Gentlemen I'm gone to tender the money. Bid 'hem be merry and continue their healths. Ile take my round, when I come againe. Farewell Oſtice. Y'are welcome Sir, Gone, ſayſt thou? and with the mony? fire and gunpowder! how are we blowne vp? Prettie handſome! Oſtice— Good leach, ſtand further off: your breath's too violent▪ Did we not charge you not to deliuer the money, but to vs all three together? Maſſe, tis true. How forgetfully are we cheated? You are a coozening woman. You doe lye! Keepe the peace. Oſtice, you'l make it good to vs, three hundred pound, a pretty competent ſumme. Furies and Fiends! wits, you do fairly ſtriue. I thought this faiery mony would nere thriue. I haue heard all this roguerie. Cheare, Widow: let not ſorrow make thee ſicke. Perhaps, Ile catch the knaues at their owne tricke. So ho-my maſter's turn'd Reueller. I neuer loſt my name ſince I came into his ſtaruice, till now. Vck! a miracle, I am not Thirſty. Now my wiſe kindred, why looke you ſo pale? O, Ile put off my wedding. I will not for all Bedford marry to morrow. No? why? O, my Vncle reaching for a Cup, ouerthrew the ſalt towards me—towards me. O tis ominous. The falling of a ſalt keep thee from mariage! well, I haue a ſtrange medicine, of quick cure to this conceited ſickneſſe. Robin, fetch me ſome wine. Coz, how doſt feele thy ſelfe?