The Spanish Bawd (Calisto and Meliboea) (Celestina) · chunk 25 of 205
Mabbe, James / Rojas, Fernando de · published 1631 · first performed or written 1631 (Annals) tragicomedy; literary play T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.78 · 413 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
Thy Master is well enough. He is not sick: and were he never so sick, never so much pained and grieved, I my self am able to cure him. I have the power to do it. I regard not what thou sayst. For in good things, better is the Act, than the Power: And in bad things, better the Power, than the Act. So that, it is better to be well, then an the way to be well. And better is the possibility of being sick, then to be sick indeed: and therefore, Power in ill, is better than the Act. O thou wicked villain! How Idly dost thou talk, as if thou didst not understand thyself? It seems thou dost not know his disease; What hast thou hitherto said? What wouldst thou have? What is't that grieves you, Sir? Why lamentest thou? Be you disposed to jest, and make yourself merry? or are you in good earnest, and wouldst feign face out truth with falsehood? Believe you what you list; I am sure he is sick, and that in Act, and that the Power to make him whole, lies wholly in the hands of this weak old woman. Nay rather, of this weak old Whore. Now the Hangman be thy ghostly father, my little rascal, my pretty villain; how dar'st thou be so bold with me? How, as though I did not know thee? And who art thou? Who? marry, I am Parmeno, son to Alberto thy gossip, who lived some little while with thee; for my mother recommended me unto thee, when thou dwelt'st close by the river's side in tanner's row. Good Lord, and art thou Parmeno, Claudina's son? The very same. Now the fire of the pocks consume thy bones; for thy mother was an old whore, as myself: Why dost thou persecute me, Parmeno? It is he in good truth, it is he. Come hither unto me; come I say; many a good jerk, and many a cuff on the ear have I given thee in my days, and as many kisses too. A you little rogue, dost thou remember, sirrah, when thou layest at my bed's feet? Passing well: and sometimes also, though I was then but a little Apish boy, how you would take me up to your pillow, and there lie hugging of me in your arms; and because you savoured somewhat of old age, I remember how I would fling and fly from you.
nodes 215–226 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 25 of 205 in this edition
Length
413 words · 539 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.778 (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)
Thy Master is well inough. He is not sicke: and were hee neuer so sicke, neuer so much payned and grieued, I my selfe am able to cure him. I haue the power to doe it. I regard not what thou saist. For in good things, better is the Act, then the Power: And in bad things, better the Power, then the Act. So that, it is beter to be well, then an the way to bee well. And better is the possibility of being sicke, then to be sicke indeed: and therefore, Power in ill, is better then the Act. O thou wicked villaine! How Idly dost thou talke, as if thou didst not vnderstand thy selfe? It seemes thou dost not know his disease; What hast thou hitherto said? What wouldst thou haue? What is't that grieues you, Sir? Why lamentest thou? Be you dispos'd to jest, and make your selfe merry? or are you in good earnest, and would'st faine face out truth with falsehood? Beleeue you what you list; I am sure hee is sicke, and that in Act, and that the Power to make him whole, lyes wholly in the hands of this weake old woman. Nay rather, of this weake old Whore. Now the Hang-man be thy ghostly father, my little rascall, my pretty villaine; how dar'st thou be so bold with me? How, as though I did not know thee? And who art thou? Who? marry, I am Parmeno, sonne to Alberto thy gossip, who liu'd some little while with thee; for my mother recommended mee vnto thee, when thou dwelt'st close by the riuers side in Tanners row. Good Lord, and art thou Parmeno, Claudina's sonne? The very same. Now the fire of the pockes consume thy bones; for thy mother was an old whore, as my selfe: Why dost thou persecute me, Parmeno? It is he in good truth, it is hee. Come hither vnto mee; come I say; many a good jerke, and many a cuffe on the eare haue I giuen thee in my daies, and as many kisses too. A you little rogue, dost thou remember, sirrha, when thou lay'st at my beds feet? Passing well: and sometimes also, though I was then but a little Apish boy, how you would take me vp to your pillow, and there lye hugging of me in your armes; and because you sauour'd somewhat of old age, I remember how I would fling and flye from you.