Massinger, Philip · published 1624 · first performed or written 1623 [licensed for stage, Dec 3] (Annals) tragicomedy · Lady Elizabeth's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T3 Sickness, physic and doctors · 475 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
You need not fear, They are all under guard, their fangs pared off: The wounds their insolence gave you, to be cured, With the blame of your revenge. And shall I be The thing I was borne, my Lord? The same wise thing; 'Slight, what a beast they have made thee! Afric never Produced the like. I think so: Nor the land Where Apes, and Monkeys, grow, like Crabs, and Walnuts On the same tree. Not all the Catalogue Of Conjurers, or wise women, bound together Could have so soon transformed me, as my Rascal Did with his whip; Not in outside only, But in my own belief, I thought myself As perfect a Baboon. An Ass, thou wert ever. And would have given one leg with all my heart For good security to have been a man After three lives, or one and twenty years, Though I had died on Crouches. Never varlets So triumphed o'er an old fat man: I was famished. In deed you are fall'n away. Three years of feeding On Cullises and jelly, though his cook's Lard all he eats with marrow, or his Doctors Pour in his mouth Restoratives, as he sleeps, Will not recover him. But your Ladyship looks Sad on the matter, as if you had missed Your ten-crown Amber Possets, good to smoothe The Cutis, as you call it, and prepare you Active, and high for an afternoon's encounter, With a rough gamester, on your couch; fie on't, You are grown thrifty, smell like other women; The College of Physicians have not sat, As they were used, in council how to fill The crannies in your cheeks, or raise a rampire, With Mummy, Ceruses, or Infants fat, To keep off age, and time. Pray you, forbear; I am an altered woman. So it seems; A part of your honour's ruff stands out of rank too. No matter, I have other thoughts. O strange! Not ten days since it would have vexed you more, Than th'loss of your good name; Pity, this cure For your proud itch came no sooner! Marry, Olympia seems to bear up still. I complain not, Sir, I have borne my fortune patiently. Thou were't ever An excellent bearer; so is all your tribe, If you may choose your carriage: How now, friend, Looks our Cleora lovely? In my thoughts, Sir. But why this guard? It is Timoleon's pleasure; The slaves have been examined, and confess, Their riot took beginning from your house: And the first mover of them to rebellion, Your slave Marullo. Ha! I more, than fear. They may search boldly. You are unmannered Grooms, To pry into my Lady's private lodgings; There's no Marulloes, there. Now I suspect too; Where found you him? Close hid in your sister's Chamber. Is that the villain's sanctuary? This confirms All she delivered, false.
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)
You need not feare, They are all vnder guard, their fangs par'd off: The wounds their insolence gaue you, to be cur'd, With the blame of your reuenge. And shall I be The thing I was borne, my Lord? The same wise thing; 'Slight, what a beast they haue made thee! Affricke neuer Produc'd the like. I thinke so: Nor the land Where Apes, and Monkies, grow, like Crabs, and Wall-nuts On the same tree. Not all the Catalogue Of Coniurers, or wise women, bound together Could haue so soone transform'd me, as my Raskall Did with his whip; Not in outside only, But in my owne beliefe, I thought my selfe As perfect a Baboone. An Asse, thou wert euer. And would haue giuen one legge with all my heart For good securitie to haue beene a man After three liues, or one and twenty yeares, Though I had dy'de on Crouches. Neuer varlets So triumph'd o're an old fat man: I was famish'd. In deed you are falne away. Three yeeres of feeding On Cullises and ielly, though his Cookes Lard all he eates with marrow, or his Doctors Powre in his mouth Restoratiues, as he sleepes, Will not recouer him. But your Ladiship lookes Sad on the matter, as if you had mis'd Your ten-crowne Amber Possets, good to smoothe The Cutis, as you call it, and prepare you Actiue, and high for an afternoones incounter, With a rough gamester, on your couch; fie on't, You are growne thriftie, smell like other women; The Colledge of Phisitians haue not sate, As they were vs'd, in councell how to fill The cranies in your cheekes, or raise a rampire, With Mummy, Ceruses, or Infants fat, To keepe off age, and time. Pray you, forbeare; I am an alter'd woman. So it seemes; A part of your honours ruffe stands out of rancke too. No matter, I haue other thoughts. O strange! Not ten dayes since it would haue vex'd you more, Then th'losse of your good name; Pitty, this cure For your proud itch came no sooner! Marry, Olympia seemes to beare vp still. I complaine not, Sir, I haue borne my fortune patiently. Thou wer't euer An excellent bearer; so is all your tribe, If you may choose your carriage: How now, friend, Lookes our Cleora louely? In my thoughts, Sir. But why this guard? It is Timoleons pleasure; The slaues haue beene examin'd, and confesse, Their ryot tooke beginning from your house: And the first moouer of them to rebellion, Your slaue Marullo. Ha! I more, then feare. They may search boldly. You are vnmanner'd Groomes, To prie into my Ladyes priuate lodgings; There's no Marulloe's, there. Now I suspect too; Where found you him? Close hid in your Sisters Chamber. Is that the villaines sanctuary? This confirmes All she deliuer'd, false.