Shakespeare, William · published 1622 · first performed or written 1604 [c.1603-1604] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 481 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you, That by your virtuous means, I may again Exist, and be a member of his love, Whom I, with all the duty of my heart, Entirely honour, I would not be delayed: If my offence be of such mortal kind, That neither service past, nor present sorrows, Nor purposed merit, in futurity Can ransom me, into his love again But to know so, must be my benefit, So shall I clothe me in a forced content, And shoot myself up in some other course, To fortunes alms. Alas thrice gentle Cassio, My advocation is not now in tune; My Lord is not my Lord, nor should I know him, Were he in favour, as in humour altered. So help me, every spirit sanctified, As I have spoken for you, all my best, And stood within the blank of his displeasure, For my free speech: you must a while be patiented, What I can do I will, and more I will Then for myself I dare, let that suffice you. Is my Lord angry? He went hence but now, And certainly in strange unquietness. Can he be angry? I have seen the Cannon, When it hath blown his ranks into the air; And (like the Devil) from his very arm, Puffed his own brother, and can he be angry? Something of moment then: I will go meet him, There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry. I prithee do so: something sure of State, Either from Venice, or some unhatched practice, Made demonstrable here in Cypress to him, Hath pudled his clear spirit, and in such cases men's natures wrangle with inferior things, Tho great ones are the object, 'tis even so: for let our finger ache, And it endues our other heathfull members, Even to that sense of pain; nay, we must think, Men are not go, Nor of them look for such observances As fits the Bridal: beshrew me much Emillia, I was (unhandsome, warrior as I am) Arraigning his unkindness with my soul; But now I find, I had suborned the witness, And he's indicted falsely. Pray heaven it be State matters, as you think, And no conception, nor no jealous toy Concerning you. Alas the day, I never gave him cause. Butiealous souls will not be answered so, They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they are jealous: 'tis a monster, Begot upon itself, borne on itself. Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind. Lady, Amen. I will go seek him, Cassio, walk here about, If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit, And seek to effect it to my uttermost. I humbly thank your Ladyship. Save you friend Cassio. What make you from home? How is it with you my most fair Bianca? I faith sweet love I was coming to your house.
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)
Madam, my former suite: I doe beseech you, That by your vertuous meanes, I may againe Exist, and be a member of his loue, Whom I, with all the duty of my heart, Intirely honour, I would not be delayed: If my offence be of such mortall kind, That neither seruice past, nor present sorrowes, Nor purpos'd mrrit, in futurity Can ransome me, into his loue againe But to know so, must be my benefit, So shall I cloth me in a forc'd content, And shoote my selfe vp in some other course, To fortunes almes. Alas thrice gentle Cassio, My aduocation is not now in tune; My Lord is not my Lord, nor should I know him, Were he in fauour, as in humor alred. So helpe me, euery spirit sanctfied, As I haue spoken for you, all my best, And stood within the blnke of his displeasure, For my free speech: you must a while be patient, What I can doe I will, and more I will Then for my selfe I dare, let that suffice you. Is my Lord angry? He went hence but now, And crtainely in strange vnquietnesse. Can he be angry? I haue seene the Cannon, When it hath blowne his rankes into the ayre; And (like the Diuell) from his very arme, Puft his owne brother, and can he be angry? Something of moment then: I will goe meete him, There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry. I preethee do so: something sure of State, Either from Venie, or some vnhatcht practice, Made demontrable here in Cypres to him, Hath pudled his cleere spirit, and in such cases Mens natures wrangle with inferior things, Tho great ones are the obiect, Tis euen so: for let our finger ake, And it endues our other heathfull members, Euen to that sence of paine; nay, we must thinke, Men are not go, Nor of them looke for such obseruances As fits the Bridall: beshrew me much Eillia, I was (vnhandsome, warrior as I am) Arraigning his vnkindenesse with my soule; But now I finde, I had subbornd the witnesse, And hee's indited falsly. Pray heauen it be State matters, as you thinke, And no concption, nor no alous toy Concerning you. Alas the day, I neuer gaue him cause. Butiealous soules will not be answered so, They are not euer iealous for the cause, But iealous for the iealous: tis a monter, Begot vpon it selfe, borne on it selfe. Heauen keepe that monster from Othello's mind. Lady, Amen. I will go seeke him, Cassio, walke here about, If I doe finde him fit, I'le moue your suite, And seeke to effect it to my vttermost. I humbly thanke your Ladiship. Saue you friend Cassio. What make you from home? How is it with you my most faire Bianca? I faith sweete loue I was comming to your house.