Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1609 [c.1608-1611] (Annals) romance · King's Men T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.82 · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
Your hand, a Covenant: we will have these things set down be lawful Counsel, and strait away for Britain, lest the Bargain should catch cold, and starve: I will fetch my Gold, and have our two Wagers recorded. Agreed. Will this hold, think you. Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray let us follow 'em. Whiles yet the dewes on ground, Gather those Flowers, Make haste. Who has the note of them? I Madam. Dispatch. Now Master Doctor, have you brought those drugs? Pleaseth your Highness, I: here they are, Madam: But I beseech your Grace, without offence (My Conscience bids me ask) wherefore you have Commanded of me these most poisonous Compounds, Which are the moovers of a languishing death: But though slow, deadly. I wonder, Doctor, Thou ask'st me such a Question: Have I not been Thy Pupil long? Hast thou not learned me how To make Perfumes? Distil? Preserve? Yea so, That our great King himself doth woe me oft For my Confections? Having thus far proceeded, (Unless thou thinkest me devilish) is't not meet That I did amplify my judgement in Other Conclusions? I will try the forces Of these thy Compounds, on such Creatures as We count not worth the hanging (but none humane) To try the vigour of them, and apply Allayments to their Act, and by them gather Their several virtues, and effects. Your Highness Shall from this practice, but make hard your heart: Besides, the seeing these effects will be Both noisome, and infectious. O content thee. here comes a flattering Rascal, upon him Will I first work: he's for his Master, And enemy to my Son. How now Pisanio? Doctor, your service for this time is ended, Take your own way. I do suspect you, Madam, But you shall do no harm. Hark thee, a word. I do not like her. She doth think she has Strange lingering poisons: I do know her spirit, And will not trust one of her malice, with A drug of such damned Nature. Those she has, Will stupefy and dull the Sense awhile, Which first (perchance) she'll prove on Cats and Dogs, Then afterward up higher: but there is No danger in what show of death it makes, More than the locking up the Spirits a time, To be more fresh, reviving. She is fooled With a most false effect: and I, the truer, So to be false with her. No further service, Doctor, Until I send for thee. I humbly take my leave. Weeps she still (sayst thou?) Dost thou think in time She will not quench, and let instructions enter Where Folly now possesses? Do thou work: When thou shalt bring me word she loves my Son, I'll tell thee on the instant, thou art then As great as is thy Master: Greater, for His Fortunes all lie speechless, and his name Is at last gasp. Return he cannot, nor Continue where he is: To shift his being, Is to exchange one misery with another,
nodes 336–405 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 8 of 54 in this edition
Length
502 words · 684 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.816 (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)
Your hand, a Couenant: wee will haue theſe things ſet downe be lawfull Counſell, and ſtraight away for Britaine, leaſt the Bargaine ſhould catch colde, and ſterue: I will fetch my Gold, and haue our two Wagers recorded. Agreed. Will this hold, thinke you. Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray let vs follow 'em. Whiles yet the dewe's on ground, Gather thoſe Flowers, Make haſte. Who ha's the note of them? I Madam. Diſpatch. Now Maſter Doctor, haue you brought thoſe drugges? Pleaſeth your Highnes, I: here they are, Madam: But I beſeech your Grace, without offence (My Conſcience bids me aske) wherefore you haue Commanded of me theſe moſt poyſonous Compounds, Which are the moouers of a languiſhing death: But though ſlow, deadly. I wonder, Doctor, Thou ask'ſt me ſuch a Queſtion: Haue I not bene Thy Pupill long? Haſt thou not learn'd me how To make Perfumes? Diſtill? Preſerue? Yea ſo, That our great King himſelfe doth woo me oft For my Confections? Hauing thus farre proceeded, (Vnleſſe thou think'ſt me diuelliſh) is't not meete That I did amplifie my iudgement in Other Concluſions? I will try the forces Of theſe thy Compounds, on ſuch Creatures as We count not worth the hanging (but none humane) To try the vigour of them, and apply Allayments to their Act, and by them gather Their ſeuerall vertues, and effects. Your Highneſſe Shall from this practiſe, but make hard your heart: Beſides, the ſeeing theſe effects will be Both noyſome, and infectious. O content thee▪ Heere comes a flattering Raſcall, vpon him Will I firſt worke: Hee's for his Maſter, And enemy to my Sonne. How now Piſanio? Doctor, your ſeruice for this time is ended, Take your owne way. I do ſuſpect you, Madam, But you ſhall do no harme. Hearke thee, a word. I do not like her. She doth thinke ſhe ha's Strange ling'ring poyſons: I do know her ſpirit, And will not truſt one of her malice▪ with A drugge of ſuch damn'd Nature. Thoſe ſhe ha's, Will ſtupifie and dull the Senſe a-while, Which firſt (perchance) ſhee'l proue on Cats and Dogs, Then afterward vp higher: but there is No danger in what ſhew of death it makes, More then the locking vp the Spirits a time, To be more freſh, reuiuing. She is fool'd With a moſt falſe effect: and I, the truer, So to be falſe with her. No further ſeruice, Doctor, Vntill I ſend for thee. I humbly take my leaue. Weepes ſhe ſtill (ſaiſt thou?) Doſt thou thinke in time She will not quench, and let inſtructions enter Where Folly now poſſeſſes? Do thou worke: When thou ſhalt bring me word ſhe loues my Sonne, Ile tell thee on the inſtant, thou art then As great as is thy Maſter: Greater, for His Fortunes all lye ſpeechleſſe, and his name Is at laſt gaspe. Returne he cannot, nor Continue where he is: To ſhift his being, Is to exchange one miſery with another,