Shakespeare, William · published 1622 · first performed or written 1604 [c.1603-1604] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.76 · 510 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
Lie with her, lie on her? We say lie on her, when they belly her; lie with her, Zouns, that's fulsome, handkerchiefs, Confession, hankerchers. Work on my medicine, work: thus credulous fools are caught, and many worthy and chaste dames, even thus all guiltless, meet reproach; What ho my Lord, my Lord I say, Othello,— how now Cassio. What's the matter? My Lord is fall'n into an Epilepsy, This is his second fit, he had one yesterday. Rub him about the Temples. No, forbear, The Lethargy, must have his quiet course, If not he foams at mouth, and by and by Breaks out to savage madness: look he stirs: Do you withdraw yourself a little while, He will recover strait, when he is gone, I would on great occasion speak with you. How is it General, have you not hurt your head? Dost thou mock me? I mock you? no by Heaven, Would you would bear your fortunes like a man. A horned man's a monster, and a beast. There's many a beast then in a populous City, And many a civil monster. Did he confess? Good sir be a man, Think every bearded fellow, that's but yoked, May draw with you, there's millions now alive, That nightly lies in those unproper beds, Which they dare swear peculiar: your case is better: O 'tis the spite of hell, the fiends arch mock, To lip a wanton in a secure Coach, And to suppose her chaste: No, let me know, And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be. O thou art wise, 'tis certain. Stand you a while apart, yourself but in a patiented list: Whilst you were here ere while, mad with your grief, A passion most unsuting such a man, Cassio came hither, I shifted him away, And laid good excuse, upon your extacy, Bid him anon retire, and here speak with me, The which he promised: but incaue your selfe, And mark the jeers, the Jibes, and notable scorns, That dwell in every region of his face; For I will make him tell the tale anew, Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when, He has, and is again to cope your wife: I say, but mark his ieasture, marry patience, Or I shall say, you are all in all, in spleen, And nothing of a man. Dost thou hear Iago, I will be found most cunning in my patience; But dost thou hear, most bloody. That's not amiss: But yet keep time in all; will you withdraw? Now will I question Cassio of Bianca; A huswife that by selling her desires, Buys herself bread and clothes: it is a Creature, That dotes on Cassio: as 'tis the strumpets plague To beguile many, and be beguiled by one, He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain From the excess of laughter: here he comes: As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad, And his unbookish jealousy must construe Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behaviour, Quite in the wrong: How do you now Lieutenant?
Blackfriars;Globe;Indoor Professional;Outdoor Professional
Genre (British Drama)
tragedy
Play type
Adult Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 838 · TCP A11992 · DEEP 694
Edition role
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1996–2058 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 35 of 50 in this edition
Length
510 words · 718 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.765 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T3 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Lie with her, lie on her? We say lie on her, when they bely her; lye with her, Zouns, that's fulsome, handkerchers, Confession, hankerchers. Worke on my medicine, worke: thus credulous fooles are caught, and many worthy and chste dames, euen thus all guiltlesse, meete reproach; What ho my Lord, my Lord I say, Othello,—how now Cassio. What's the matter? My Lord is falne into an Epilepsy, This is his second fit, he had one yesterday. Rub him about the Temples. No, forbeare, The Lethergie, must haue his quiet course, If not he foames at mouth, and by and by Breakes out to sauage madnesse: looke he stirres: Doe you withdraw your selfe a little while, He will recouer straight, when he is gone, I would on great occasion speake with you. How is it Generall, haue you not hurt your head? Doest thou mocke me? I mocke you? no by Heauen, Would you would beare your fortunes like a man. A horned man's a monster, and a beast. There's many a beast then in a populous City, And many a ciuill monster. Did he confese? Good sir be a man, Thinke euery bearded fellow, that's but yoak'd, May draw with you, there's millions now aliue, That nightly lyes in those vnproper beds, Whch they dare sweare peculiar: your case is better: O tis the spite of hell, the fiends arch mocke, To a wanton in a secure Coach, And to suppose her chaste: No, let me know, And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be. O thou art wise, tis certaine. Stand you a while apart, Conine your selfe but in a patient list: Whilst you were here ere while, mad with your griefe, A passion most vnsuting such a man, Cassio came hither, I shifted him away, And layed good scuse, vpon your extacy, Bid him anon retire, and here speake with me, The which he promisde: but incaue your slfe, And marke the Ieeres, the libes, and notable scornes, That dwell in euery region of his face; For I will make him tell the tale anew, Where, how, how oft, how long agoe, and when, He has, and is againe to cope your wife: I say, but marke his ieasture, mary patience, Or I shall say, you are all in all, in spleene, And nothing of a man. Doest thou heare Iago, I will be found most cunning in my patience; But doest thou heare, most bloody. That's not amisse: But yet keepe time in all; will you withdraw? Now will I question Cassio of Bianca; A huswife that by selling her desires, Buys her selfe bread and cloathes: it is a Creature, That dotes on Cassio: as tis the trumpets plague To beguile many, and be beguild by one, He, when he heares of her, cannot refraine From the xesse of laughter: here he coms: As he all smile, Othello shall goe mad, And his vnbookish iealousie must conster Poore Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behauiour, Quite in the wrong: How doe you now Leiutenant?