Shakespeare, William · published 1622 · first performed or written 1604 [c.1603-1604] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.84 · 483 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.
Alas what's the matter? what's the matter husband? Cassio has here been set on in the dark, By Roderigo, and fellows that are 'scaped, he's almost slain, and Roderigo dead. Alas good gentleman, alas good Cassio. This is the fruit of whoring, pray Emillia, Go know of Cassio, where he supped to night: What, do you shake at that? He supped at my house, but I therefore shake not. O did he so, I charge you go with me. Fie, fie upon thee strumpet. I am no strumpet, but of life as honest, As you, that thus abuse me. As I fough, fie upon thee. Kind Gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio drest, Come mistress, you must tell's another tale. Emillia, run you to the Citadel, And tell my Lord and Lady what has happed: Will you go on, I pray, this is the night, That either marks me, or foredoes me quite. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul, Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars: It is the cause yet I'll not shed her blood, Nor scare that whiter skin of hers, than snow, And smooth, as monumental Alabaster; Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men, Put out the light, and then put out the light: If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can again, thy former light restore, Should I repent me; but once put out thine, Thou cunning pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that promethian heat, That can thy light return: when I have plucked the rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, It must needs whither; I'll smell it on the tree, A balmy breath, that doth almost persuade justice herself to break her sword once more, Be thus, when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And love thee after: once more, and this the last, So sweet was ne'er so fatal: I must weep, But they are cruel tears; this sorrows heavenly, It strikes when it does love: she wakes. Who's there, Othello? I, Desdemona. Will you come to bed my Lord? Have you prayed to night, Desdemona? I my Lord: If you bethink yourself of any crime, Vnreconcil'd as yet to heaven and grace, Solicit for it strait. Alas my Lord, what may you mean by that? Well do it, and be brief, I will walk by, I would not kill thy vnprepared spi, No, heaven forefend, I would not kill thy soul. Talk you of killing? I, I do. Then heaven have mercy on me. Amen, with all my heart. If you say so, I hope you will not kill me. Hum. And yet I fear you, for you are fatal then, When your eyes roll so: why I should fear, I know not, Since guiltiness I know not, but yet I feel I fear. Think on thy sins.
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 2588–2651 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 45 of 50 in this edition
Length
483 words · 675 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.842 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
'Las what's the matter? what's the matter husband? Cassio has here bin set on in the darke, By Roderigo, and fellowes that are scap't, Hee's almost slaine, and Roderigo dead. Alas good gentleman, alas good Cassio. This is the fruite of whoring, pray Emillia, Goe know of Cassio, where he supt to night: What, doe you shake at that? He supt at my house, but I therefore shake not. O did he so, I charge you goe with me. Fie, fie vpon thee strumpet. I am no strumpet, but of life as honest, As you, that thus abuse me. As I ough, fie vpon thee. Kind Gentlemen, let's goe see poore Cassio drest Com mistresse, you must tell's another tale. Emillia, runne you to the Cittadell, And tell my Lord and Lady what has hapt: Will you goe on, I pray, this is the night, That either markes me, or foredoes me quite. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soule, Let me not name it to you, you chaste starres: It is the cause yet I'le not shed her blood, Nor scarre that whiter skin of hers, then snow, And smooth, as monumentall Alablaster; Yet she must die, else shee'll betray more men, Put out the light, and then put out the light: If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can againe, thy former light restore, Should I repent me; but once put out thine, Thou cunning patterne of excelling nature, I know not where is that promethian heate, That can thy light returne: when I haue pluckt the rose, I cannot giue it vitall growth againe, It must needes wither; I'le smell it on the tree, A balmy breath, that doth almost perswade Iustice her selfe to breake her sword once more, Be thus, when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And loue thee after: once more, and this the last, So sweete was ne're so fatall: I must weepe, But they are cruell teares; this soowes heauenly, It strikes when it does loue: she wakes. Who's there, Othllo? I, Desdemona. Will you come to bed my Lord? Haue you prayed to night, Desdemona? I my Lord: If you bethinke your selfe of any crime, Vnreconcil'd as yet to heauen and grace, Sollicite for it straite. Alas my Lord, what may you meane by that? Well doe it, and be briefe, I will walke by, I would not kill thy vnprepared spi, No, eauen fore-fend, I would not kill thy soule. Talke you of killing? I, I doe. Then heauen haue mercy on me. Amen, with all my heart. If you say so, I hope you will not kill me. Hum. And yet I feare you, for you are fatall then, Whn your eyes roule so: why I should feare, I know not, Since guiltinesse I know not, but yet I feele I feare. Thinke on thy sinnes.