Massinger, Philip · published 1632 · first performed or written 1631 [licensed for stage, Mar 11] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.85 · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
I'll not bandy Words with your mightiness, prowed one, only this, You carry to much sail for your small bark, And that when you least think upon't may sink you. I am glad she is gone. I feared she would have read A tedious lecture to us. From the Emperor, This rare fruit to the rarest. How my Lord? I use his language madam, and that trust, Which he imposed on me, discharged, his pleasure Commands my present service. Have you seen So fair an Apple? Never. If the taste Answer the beauty. Prettily begged, you should have it, But that you eat too much cold fruit, and that Changes the fresh red in your cheeks to paleness. I have other dainties for you; you come from Paulinus, how is't with that truly noble, And honest Lord? my witness at the fount; In a word the man to whose blessed charity I owe my greatness. How is't with him? Spiritely, In his mind, but by the raging of his gout In his body much distempered, that you pleased To inquire his health, took off much from his pain, His glad looks did confirm it. do his Doctors Give him no hope? Little, they rather fear, By his continual burning, that he stands In danger of a fever. To him again, And tell him that I heartily wish it lay In me to ease him, and from me deliver This choice fruit to him, you may say to that, I hope it will prove Physical. The good Lord Will be overjoyed with the favour. He deserves more, I Have done as much as art can do, to stop The violent course of your fit, and I hope you feel it, How does your honour? At some ease, I thank you, I would you could assure continuance of it, For the moiety of my fortune. If I could cure The gout my Lord, without the philosopher's stone I should soon purchase, it being a disease, In poor men very rare, and in the rich The cure impossible, your many bounties; Bid me prepare you for a certain truth, And to flatter you were dishonest. Your plain dealing Deserves a fee. Would there were many more such Of your profession. Happy are poormen, If sick with the excess of heat or cold, Caused by necessitous labour, not loose surfeits They, when spare diet, or kind nature fail, To perfect their recovery, soon arrive at Their rest in death, but on the contrary The great, and noble are exposed as preys To the rapine of Physicians, and they In lingering out what is remediless, Aim at their profit, not the patient's health; A thousand trials and experiments Have been put upon me, and I forced to pay dear For my vexation, but I am resolved, (I thank your honest freedom) to be made A property no more for knaves to work on. What have you there?
Blackfriars;Globe;Indoor Professional;Outdoor Professional
Genre (British Drama)
tragicomedy
Play type
Adult Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 977 · TCP A07238 · DEEP 788
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 1894–1968 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 26 of 39 in this edition
Length
492 words · 620 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.848 (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)
Ile not bandye Words with your mightinesse, prow'd one, only this, You carie to much saile for your small barke, And that when you least think vpon't may sincke you. I am glad shee is gone. I feard shee would haue read A tedious lecture to vs. From the Emperour, This rare fruite to the rarest. How my Lord? I vse his language Madame, and that trust, Which hee impos'd on mee, discharg'd, his pleasure Commands my present seruice. Haue you seene So faire an Apple? Neuer. If the taste Answer the beauty. Prettily beg'd, you should haue it, But that you eate too much cold fruite, and that Changes the fresh red in your cheekes to palenesse. I haue other dnities for you; you come from Paulinus, how is't with that truely noble, And honst Lord? my witnesse at the fount; In a word the man to whose bless'd charity I owe my greatenesse. How is't with him? Spiritely, In his minde, but by the raging of his goute In his body much distemper'd, that you pleas'd To inquire his health, tooke off much from his paine, His glad lookes did confirme it Doe his Doctors Giue him no hope? Little, they rather feare, By his continuall burning, that hee stands In danger of a feuer. To him againe, And tell him that I heartely wish it lay In mee to ease him, and from me deliuer This choice fruite to him, you may say to that, I hope it will prue Physicall. The good Lord Will be oreioyde with the fauour. Hee deseru's more, I Haue done as much as art can doe, to stoppe The violent course of your fit, and I hope you feele it, How does your honor? At some ease, I thanke you, I would you could assure continuance of it, For the moyetie of my fortune. If I could cure The gout my Lord, without the Philosophers stone I should soone purchase, it being a disease, In poore men very rare, and in the rich The cure impossible, your many bounties; Bid mee prepare you for a certaine truth, And to flatter you were dihonest. Your plaine dealing Deserues a fee. Would there were many more such Of your profession. Happy are pooremen, If sicke with the excesse of heate or cold, Caus'd by necessitous labour, not loose surfets They, when spare dyet, or kind nature faile, To perfit their recouery, soone arriue at Their rest in death, but on the contrarie The greate, and noble are expos'd as preyes To the rapine of Physitians, and they In lingring out what is remedilesse, Aime at their profit, not the patients health; A thousand trialls and experiments Haue bene put vpon mee, and I forc'd to pay deere For my vexation, but I am reolu'd, (I thanke your honest freedome) to be made A propertie no more for knaues to worke on. What haue you there?