Randolph, Thomas · published 1632 · first performed or written 1632 [Mar 20] (Annals) comedy · before the Court unassigned nearest T3 Sickness, physic and doctors · 510 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
Go, Paegnium, tell your master I could wish That I was his, but bid him choose another. Tell him he has no hope e'er to enjoy me, Yet bid him not despair. I do not doubt His constant love to me. Yet I suspect His zeal more fervent to some other saint. Say I receive his letters with all joy, But will not take the pains to read a syllable. If I do not think women were got with riddling, whip me: Hocas, pocas, here you shall have me, and there you shall have me. A man cannot find out their meaning without the siéve, and shears. I conceive 'em now to be engendered of nothing but the wind and the weathercock. What? my sword gone? Ha! Well. This same pandarly-rogue Ballio has got it; he sows suspicions of my master here, because he cudgels him into manners. And that old scold Dypsas hires him to it. How could such a devil bring forth such an Angel as my Lady Techmessa? unless it were before her fall. I know all their plots, and yet they cannot see 'em. Heaven keep me from love, and preserve my eyesight. Go plot Enginners, plot on: I'll work a countermine, and 'twill be brave, An old rogue overreached by a young knave. REvenge more sweet than muscadine and eggs, Today I will embrace thee. Healths in blood Are soldiers morning's draughts. Proud, proud Evadne Shall know what 'tis to make a wit her foe, And such a wit as can give overthrow To male or female, be they— man or woman. This can my Tutor do, and I, or— no man. And Pamphilus shall learn by this dear knock His liberal valour late bestowed upon me, Invention lies at safer ward than wit: This sword shall teach not to provoke the cruel. And by this gem shall I confound a jewel. 'Slid, Tutor, I have a wit too, there was a jest ex tempore. PHysicians say, there's no disease so dangerous As when the Patient knows not he is sick. Such, such is mine. I could not be so ill, Did I but know I were not well. The fear Of dangers but suspected, is more horrid Than present misery. I have seen a man During the storm, shake at the thoughts of death: Who when his eyes beheld a certain ruin, Died hugging of the wave. Were Evadne true I were too blessed; or could I say she's false, I could no more be wretched.— I am well: My pulse beats music, and my lively blood Dances a healthful measure.— Ha! What's this Gnaws at my heart? what viperous shirt of Nessus Cleaves to my skin, and eats away my flesh? 'Tis some infection— Tutor, let's be gone. O' my life we are dead men else. My Asotus? Keep your infection to yourself. 'Tis love Is my infection. Nay, than I care not, Tyndarus: For that is an epidemical disease, And is the finest sickness in the world When it takes two together.
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)
Go, Paegnium, tell your master I could wish That I was his, but bid him choose another. Tell him he has no hope e're to enjoy me, Yet bid him not despair. I do not doubt His constant love to me. Yet I suspect His zeal more fervent to some other saint. Say I receive his letters with all joy, But will not take the pains to read a syllable. If I do not think women were got with ridling, whippe me: Hocas, pocas, here you shall have me, and there you shall have me. A man cannot finde out their meaning without the siéve, and sheers. I conceive 'um now to be engendred of nothing but the winde and the weather-cock. What? my sword gone? Ha! Well. This same pandarly-rogue Ballio has got it; he sows suspicions of my master here, because he cudgels him into manners. And that old scold Dypsas hires him to it. How could such a devil bring forth such an Angel as my Lady Techmessa? unlesse it were before her fall. I know all their plots, and yet they cannot see 'um. Heaven keep me from love, and preserve my eyesight. Go plot Enginners, plot on: I'le work a countermine, and 'twill be brave, An old rogue over-reach'd by a young knave. REvenge more sweet then muscadine and egges, To day I will embrace thee. Healths in bloud Are souldiers mornings draughts. Proud, proud Evadne Shall know what 'tis to make a wit her foe, And such a wit as can give overthrow To male or female, be they—man or woman. This can my Tutour do, and I, cr—no man. And Pamphilus shall learn by this deare knock His liberall valour late bestowed upon me, Invention lies at safer ward then wit: This sword shall teach not to provoke the cruell. And by this jemme shall I confound a jewell. S'lid, Tutour, I have a wit too, there was a jest ex tempore. PHysicians say, there's no disease so dangerous As when the Patient knows not he is sick. Such, such is mine. I could not be so ill, Did I but know I were not well. The fear Of dangers but suspected, is more horrid Then present misery. I have seen a man During the storm, shake at the thoughts of death: Who when his eyes beheld a certain ruine, Died hugging of the wave. Were Evadne true I were too blest; or could I say she's false, I could no more be wretched.—I am well: My pulse beats musick, and my lively bloud Dances a healthfull measure.—Ha! What's this Gnaws at my heart? what viperous shirt of Nessus Cleaves to my skin, and eats away my flesh? 'Tis some infection— Tutour, let's be gone. O' my life we are dead men else. My Asotus? Keep your infection to your self. 'Tis love Is my infection. Nay, then I care not, Tyndarus: For that is an epidemicall disease, And is the finest sicknesse in the world When it takes two together.