Shakespeare, William · published 1622 · first performed or written 1604 [c.1603-1604] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.81 · 501 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
The world is a huge thing, it is a great price, For a small vice. Good troth I think thou wouldst not. By my troth I think I should, and vndoed when I had done it, marry I would not do such a thing for a joint ring; or for measures of Lawn, nor for Gowns, or Petticoats, nor Caps, nor any such exhibition; but for the whole world? uds pity, who would not make her husband a Cuckole, to make him a Monarch? I should venture purgatory for it. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong, For the whole world. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'the world; and having the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly make it right. I do not think there is any such woman. Yes, a dozen, and as many to the vantage, as would store the world they played for. Good night, good night: God me such usage send, Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend. Here stand behind this Bulk, strait will he come, Wear thy good Rapier bare, and put it home, Quicke, quick, fear nothing, I'll be at thy elbow; It makes us or it mars us, think of that, And fix most firm thy resolution. Be near at hand, I may miscarry in't. Here at thy hand, be bold, and take thy sword. I have no great devotion to the dead; And yet he has given me satisfying reasons, 'tis but a man gone: forth my sword, he dies. I have rubbed this young gnat almost to the sense, And he grows angry now: whether he kill Cassio, Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other, Every way makes my game; live Roderigo. He calls me to a restitution large, For Gold and jewels, that I bobbed from him, As gifts to Desdemona: It must not be, if Cassio do remain, He has a daily beauty in his life, That makes me ugly: and beside, the Moor May unfold me to him; there stand I in peril: No, he must die, be't so, I hear him coming. I know his gate, 'tis he, villain thou diest. That thrust had been my enemy indeed, But that my coat is better than thou thinkest, I will make proof of thine. O I am slain. I am maind for ever, light ho, murder, murder. The voice of Cassio, Iago keeps his word. O villain that I am Hark 'tis even so. O help ho, light, a Surgeon. 'tis he, O brave Iago, honest and just, That hast such noble sense of thy friends wrong, Thou teachest me;— minion, your dear lies dead, And your fate hies apace; strumpet I come; Forth of my heart, those charms thine eyes are blotted, Thy bed lust-staind, shall with lust's blood be spotted. What ho, no watch, no passage, murder, murder 'tis some mischance, the crye is very direful. O help.
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 2462–2513 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 43 of 50 in this edition
Length
501 words · 691 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.811 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T7 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
The world is a huge thing, it is a great price, For a small vice. Good troth I thinke thou wouldst not. By my troh I thinke I should, and vndo't when I had done it, mary I would not doe such a thing for a ioynt ring; or for measures of Lawne, nor for Gownes, or Petticotes, nor Caps, nor any such exhibition; but for the whole world? vds pitty, who would not make her husband a Cuckole, to make him a Monarch? I hould venture gatory for it. Bes rew me, if I would doe such a wrong, For the whole world. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'the world; and hauing the world for your labour, tis a wrong in your owne world, and you might quickly make it right. I doe not thinke there is any such woman. Yes, a dozen, and as many to the vantage, as would store the world they played for. Good night, good night: God me such vsage send, Not to picke bad from bad, but by bad mend. Here stand behind this Bulke, straite will he come, Weare thy good Rapier bare, and put it home▪ Quicke, quicke, feare nothing, I'le be at thy elboe; It makes vs or it marres vs, thinke of that, And fixe most firme thy resolution. Be neere at hand, I may miscarry in't. Here at thy hand, be bold, and take thy sword. I haue no great deuotion to the dead; And yet he has giuen me satisfying reasons, Tis but man gone: forth my sword, he dies. I haue rubd this young gnat almost to the sense, And he growes angry now: whether he kill Cassio, Or Cassio him, or each doe kill the other, Euery way makes my game; liue Roderigo. He calls me to a restitution large, For Gold and Iewells, that I bobd from him, As gifts to Desdemona: It must not be, if Cassio doe remaine, He has a daily beauty in his life, That makes me vgly: and besides, the Moore May vnfould me to him; there stand I in perrill: No, he must die, be't so, I heare him comming. I know his gate, tis he, villaine thou diest. That thrust had bin my enemy indeed, But that my coate is better then thou think'st, I will make proofe of thine. O I am slaine. I am maind for euer, light ho, murder, murder. The voice of Cassio, Iago keepes his word. O villaine that I am Harke tis euen so. O helpe ho, light, a Surgeon. Tis he, O braue Iago, honest and Iut, That hast such noble sence of thy friends wrong, Thou teachest me;—mino, your deare lies dead, And your fate hies apae; strumpet I come; Forth of my heart, those charmes thine eyes are blotted, Thy bed lut-staind, shall with lusts blood be spotted. What ho, no watch, no passage, murder, murder Tis some mischance, the cry very direfull. O helpe.