Shakespeare, William · published 1622 · first performed or written 1604 [c.1603-1604] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 498 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
Fear not my government. I once more take my leave. This fellow's of exceeding honesty, And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit Of humane dealing: if I do prove her haggard, Tho that her loesses were my dear heart strings, I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind, To pray at fortune. Happily, for I am black, And have not those soft parts of conversation, That Chamberers have, or for I am declind Into the vault of years; yet that's not much, she's gone, I am abused, and my relief Must be to loathe her: O curse of marriage, That we can call these delicate creatures ours, And not their appetites: I had rather be a Toad, And live upon the vapour in a dungeon, Then keep a corner in a thing I love, For others uses: yet 'tis the plague of great ones, Prerogatived are they less than the base, 'tis destiny, unshunnable, like death: Even than this forked plague is fated to us, When we do quicken: Desdemona comes, If she be false, O then heaven mocks it selfe, I'll not beleeue it. How now my dear Othello? Your dinner, and the generous Islander By you invited, do attend your presence, I am to blame. Why is your speech so faint? are you not well? I have a pain upon my forehead, here. Faith that's with watching, 'twill away again; Let me but bind your head, within this hour It will be well again. Your napkin is too little: Let it alone, come I'll go in with you. I am very sorry that you are not well. I am glad I have found this napkin, This was her first remembrance from the Moor, My way ward husband, hath a hundred times Wooed me to steal it, but she so loves the token, For he conjured her, she should ever keep it, That she reserves it ever more about her, To kiss, and talk to; I'll ha' the work ta'en out, And giv't Iago: what he'll do with it, Heaven knows, not I, I nothing know, but for his fantasy. How now, what do you here alone? Do not you chide, I have a thing for you. A thing for me, it is a common thing. Ha'? To have a foolish thing. O, is that all? what at will you give me now, For that same handkercher? What handkerchief? What handkerchief? Why that the Moor first gave to Desdemona, That which so often you did bid me steal. Hast stole it from her? No faith, she let it drop by negligence, And to the advantage, I being here, took't up: Look here it is. A good wench, give it me. What will you do with it, that you have been So earnest to have me filch it? Why, what's that to you? If it be not for some purpose of import, Give me't again, poor Lady, she'll run mad, When she shall lack it.
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)
Feare not my gouernement. I once more take my leaue. This fellowe's of exceeding honesty, And knowes all qualities, with a learned spirit Of humaine dealing: if I doe prooue her haggard, Tho that her lesses were my deare heart strings, I'de whistle her off, and let her downe the wind, To prey at fortune. Happily, for I am blacke, And haue not those soft parts of conuersation, That Chambrers haue, or for I am delind Into the valt of yeares; yet that's not much, Shee's gone, I am abus'd, and my releife Must be to lothe her: O curse of marriage, That we can call these delicate creatures ours, And not their appetites: I had rather be a Toade, And liue vpon the vapor in a dungeon, Then keepe a corner in a thing I loue, For others vses: yet tis the plague of great ones, Prerogatiu'd are they lesse then the base, Tis desteny, vnunnable, like death: Euen then this forked plague is fated to vs, When we doe quicken: Desdemona comes, If she be false, O then heauen mocks it sele, I'le not beleue it. How now my deare Othell? Your dinner, and the generous Ilander By you inuited, doe attend your presence, I am to blame. Why is your speech so faint? are you not well? I haue a paine vpon my forehead, here. Faith that's with watching, t'will away againe; Let me but bind your head, within this houre It will be well agine. Your napkin is too little: Let it alone, come I'le goe in with you. I am very sorry that you are not well. I am glad I haue found this napkin, This was her fit remembrance from the Moore, My way ward husband, hath a hundred times Wooed me to teale it, but she so loues the token, For he coniu'd her, she should euer keepe it, Tht she reeues it euer more about her, To kisse, and talke to; I'le ha the worke taine out, And giu't Iago: what hee'l doe with it, Heauen knowes, not I, I nothing know, but for his fantasie. How now, what doe you here alone? Doe not you chide, I haue a thing for you. A thing for me, it is a common thing. Ha? To haue a foolish thing. O, is that all? what at will you gine me now, For that sae hankercher? What handkercher? What handkercher? Why that the Moore first gaue to Desdemona, That which so often you did bid me steale. Ha'st stole it from her? No faith, she let t drop by negligence, And to the aduantage, I being here, took't vp: Looke here it is. A good wench, giue it me. What will you doe with it, that you haue bin So earnest to haue me filch it? Why, what's that to you? If it be not for some purpose of import, Giue mee't againe, poore Lady, shee'll run mad, When she shall lacke it.