Rowley, William · published 1633 · first performed or written 1619 [c.1619-1620(?)] (Annals) tragedy · Prince Charles's Men (first) · Phoenix/Cockpit T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.79 · 467 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
He gives me aim, I am three bows too short, I'll come up nearer next time. When does the Army March hence, Antonio? Some three days hence. I must prepare to go: I'll go with you Antonio. By no means sweet, I'll send for thee With more harmonious music. Indeed I must. Come, come, indeed you shall not. He wonot off Sir. A mischief carry him. No! shall I have no notice taken of me! I'll begin in another tone with you. Hum. hum, hum, There was a Nobleman of Spain, Lady, Lady, That went abroad, and came not again To his poor Lady. Oh cruel age, when one proud brother, Lady, Lady, Shall scorn to look upon another, Of his poor Lady. How now, what fellow's this? No man's fellow here, Lady, yet a good fellow too In place where. Who! this fellow, Lady! he that knows not him, Knows not a man of mirth, this Doctor I tell you Gives as good cure for the melancholy. As the best Empiric in Spain, whate'er he be. I would he would practise on Antonio then. Troth Madam 'tis a good plot, please you to walk I'll man you to the Castle, leave them together, 'tis an equal match, if he make him not merry, he'll most terribly trouble his melancholy. he'll make me more sad I fear. I had rather stay and partake some mirth. I am no woman's fool (sweet Lady) 'tis two trades in Seville; as your man's tailor, and your woman's tailor: So your Lords fool, and your Lady's fool, I am for the tongue, not for the bauble. Well Antonio, I'll leave you, and sirrah make him merry, And I'll reward thee: If I cannot make him merry, I know who can. Who I prithee? 'twill out. Why my— you can Lady. Now you jest too broad sirrah. That's woman's jesting, Madam. I was afraid he would have named his sister. I will make bold to be covered, brother thou knowest Oh brother. Look thee there's black and white for thee from the little honourable rascal my sister, and a thousand commendations too without book, which I was bid to tell thee by rote, if thou canst read and hear all at once. Yes I can. There's honourable bones a breeding, my sister is the peevishest piece of lady's flesh grown of late, we have good sport at it to see her vex and fret, she boxes me as familiarly as if I were her Cobbler, for talking to her, an unnatural varlet, to strike her own flesh and blood, but I bear with her for thy sake. I thank you for't, brother. Nay, she cuts her lace, and eats raw fruit too, what salad do you think she longed for other day?
nodes 1274–1325 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 21 of 33 in this edition
Length
467 words · 632 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.786 (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)
He gives me ayme, I am three bow too short, I'le come up nearer next time. When does the Army March hence, Antonio? Some three dayes hence. I must prepare to go: I'le go with you Antonio. By no meanes sweet, I'le send for thee With more harmonious musique. Indeed I must. Come, come, indeed you shall not. He wonnot off Sir. A mischiefe carry him. No! shall I have no notice taken of me! I'le begin in another tone with you. Hum, hum, hum, There was a Nobleman of Spaine, Lady, Lady, That went abroad, and came not againe To his poore Lady. Oh cruell age, when one proud brother, Lady, Lady, Shall scorne to looke upon another, Of his poore Lady. How now, what fellow's this? No mans fellow here, Lady, yet a good fellow too In place where. Who! this fellow, Lady! he that knows not him, Knows not a man of mirth, this Doctor I tell you Gives as good cure for the melancholy. As the best Emperick in Spaine, what ere he be. I woud he woud practise on Antonio then. Troth Madam tis a good plot, please you to walke I'le man you to the Castle, leave them together, Tis an equall match, if he make him not merry, Heele most terribly trouble his melancholly. Heele make me more sad I feare. I had rather stay and partake some mirth. I am no womans foole (sweet Lady) tis two trades in Sivill; as your mans Taylor, and your womans Taylor: So your Lords foole, and your Ladies oole, I am for the tongue, not for the bauble. Well Antonio, I'le leave you, and sirra make him merry, And I'le reward thee: If I cannot make him merrie, I know who can. Who I prethee? T will out. Why my—you can Lady. Now you iest too broad sirra. That's womans iesting, Madam. I was afraid he woud have namde his sister. I will make bold to be cover'd, brother thou knowest Oh brother. Looke thee theres black and white for thee from the little honourable raall my sister, and a thousand commendations too without booke, which I was bid to tell thee by roat, if thou canst reade and heare all at once. Yes I can. Theres honourable bones a breeding, my sister is the peevishest piece of Ladies flesh growne of late, we have good sport at it to see her vexe and fret, she boxes me as familiarly as if I were her Cobler, for talking to her, an unnaturall varlet, to strike her owne flesh and bloud, but I beare with her for thy sake. I thanke you fort, brother. Nay, she cuts her lace, and eats raw fruit too, what sallet do you thinke she long'd for tother day?