Shakespeare, William · published 1622 · first performed or written 1604 [c.1603-1604] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T44 Drinking: wine, ale and taverns · 474 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T44: drink, wine, numps, ale, butler, pot, sing, moy, drunk, win.
She is a most exquisite Lady. And I'll warrant her full of game. Indeed she is a most fresh and delicate creature. What an eye she has? Me thinks it sounds a parley of provocation. An inviting eye, and yet me thinks right moddest. And when she speaks, 'tis an alarm to love. It is indeed perfection. Well, happiness to their sheets— come Leiutenant, I have a stoup of Wine, and here without are a brace of Cypress Gallants, that would fain have a measure to the health of the black Othello. Not to night, good Iago; I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment. O they are our friends,— but one cup: I'll drink for you. I ha' drunk but one cup to night, and that was craftily qualified to, and behold what innovation it makes here: I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more. What man, 'tis a night of Revels, the Gallants desire it. Where are they? Here at the door, I pray you call them in. I'll do't, but it dislikes me. If I can fasten but one cup upon him, With that which he hath drunk to night already, he'll be as full of quarrel and offence, A my young mistris dog:—Now my sicke foole Rodigo, Whom love has turned almost the wrong side outward, To Desdemona, hath to night caroused Potations pottle deep, and he's to watch Three lads of Cypress, noble swelling spirits, That hold their honour, in a wary distance, The very Elements of this warlike Isle, Have I to night flustred with flowing cups, And the watch too: now 'mongst this flock of drunkards, I am to put our Cassio in some action, That may offend the Isle; But here they come: If consequence do but approve my dream, My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream. Fore God they have given me a rouse already. Good faith a little one, not past a pint, As I am a soldier. Some wine ho: And let me the Cannikin clink, clink, And let me the Cannikin clink, clink: A Soldiers a man, a life's but a span, Why then let a soldier drink.— Some wine boys, Fore God an excellent song. I learned it in England, where indeed they are most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and your swagbellied Hollander; drink ho, are nothing to your English. Is your English man so expert in his drinking? Why he drinks you with facility, your Dane dead drunk: he sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle can be filled. To the health of our General. I am for it Lieutenant, and I will do you justice.
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)
She is a most exquisite Lady. And I'le warrant her full of game. Indeede she is a most fresh and delicate creature. What an eye she has? Me thinkes it sounds a parly of prouocation. An inuiting eye, and yet me thinkes right moddest. And when she speakes, tis an alarme to loue. It is indeede perfection. Well, happinesse to their sheetes—come Leiutenant, I haue a stope of Wine, and heere without are a brace of Cypres Gallants, that would faine haue a measure to the health of the blacke Othello. Not to night, good Iago; I haue very poore and vnhappy braines for drinking: I could well wish courtesie would inuent some other custome of entertainement. O they are our friends,—but one cup: I'le drink for you. I ha drunke but one cup to night, and that was craftily qualified to, and behold what innouation it makes here: I am vnfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not taske my weakenesse with any more. What man, tis a night of Reuells, the Gallants desire it. Where are they? Hre at the dore, I pray you call them in. I'le do't, but it dislikes me. If I can fasten but one cup vpon him, With that which he hath drunke to night already, Hee'll be as full of quarrell and offence, A my young mistris dog:—Now my sicke foole Rodigo, Whom loue has turn'd almost the wrong side outward, To Desdemona, hath to night caroust Potations pottle deepe, and hee's to watch Three lads of Cypres, noble swelling spirits, That hold their honour, in a wary distance, The very Elemets of this warlike Isle, Haue I to night flustred with flowing cups, And the watch too: now mongst this flocke of drunkards, I am to put our Cassio in some action, That may offend the Isle; But here they come: If consequence doe but approoue my dreame, My boate sailes freely, both with winde and streame. Fore God they haue giuen me a rouse already. Good faith a little one, not past a pint, As I am a souldier. Some wine ho: And let me the Cannikin clinke, clinke, And let me the Cannikin clinke, clinke: A Souldier's a man, a life's but a span, Why then let a souldier drinke.—Some wine boyes, Fore God an excellent song. I learn'd it in England, where indeed they are most potent in potting: your Dane, your Germaine, and your swag-bellied Hollander; drinke ho, are nothing to your English. Is your English man so expert in his drinking? Why he drinkes you with facillity, your Dane dead drunke: he sweats not to ouerthrow your Almaine; he giues your Hollander a vomit, re the next pottle can be fild. To the health of our Generall. I am for it Leiutenant, and I will doe you iustice.