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 · 486 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.
They are loves I bear to you. And for that thou diest. That death's unnatural, that kills for loving, Alas, why gnaw you so your neither lip? Some bloody passion shakes your very frame, These are portents: but yet I hope They do not point on me. Peace, and be still. I will, so, what's the matter? That handkerchief which I so loved, and gave thee, Thou gavest to Cassio. No, by my life and soul, Send for the man and ask him. Sweet soul take heed, take heed of perjury, Thou art on thy deathbed. I, but not yet to die. Yes, presently: Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin, For to deny each article with oath, Cannot remove, nor choke the strong conceit, That I do groan withal: thou art to die. Then Lord have mercy on me. I say Amen. And have you mercy too: I never did offend you in my life,— never loved Cassio, But with such general warranty of heaven, As I might love: I never gave him token. By heaven I saw my handkerchief in his hand, O perjured woman, thou dost stone thy heart, And makest me call, what I intent to do, A murder, which I thought a sacrifice, I saw the handkerchief. He found it then, I never gave it him, send for him hither, And let him confess a truth. He has confessed. What, my Lord? That he hath— uds death. How, unlawfully? I. He will not say so. No, his mouth is stopped, Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't. My fear interprets then,— what is he dead? Had all his hairs been lives, My great revenge had stomach for 'em all. Alas he is betrayed, and I undone. O strumpet,— weepest thou for him to my face? O banish me, my Lord, but kill me not. Down strumpet. Kill me to morrow, let me live to night. Nay, an you strive. But half an hour, but while I say one prayer. 'tis too late. O Lord, Lord, Lord. My Lord, my Lord, what ho, my Lord, my Lord. What voyce is this? not dead? not yet quite dead? I that am cruel, am yet merciful, I would not have thee linger in thy pain,— so, What ho, my Lord, my Lord. Who's there? O good my Lord, I'd speak a word with you. Yes, 'tis Emillia, by and by: she's dead: 'tis like she comes to speak of Cassios' death; The noise was here; ha', no more moving, Still as the grave: shall she come in? were't good? I think she stirs again; no, what's the best? If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife. My wife, my wife, my wife; I ha' no wife; O insupportable: O heavy hour. Me thinks it should be now a huge Eclipse Of Sun and Moon, and that the affrighted Globe, Should yawn at alteration.
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)
They are loues I beare to you. And for that thou diest. That death's vnnaturll, that kills for louing, Alas, why gnw you so your neather lip? Some bloody passion shakes your very frame, These are portents: but yet I hope They doe not point on me. Peace, and be still. I will, so, what's the mater? That handkercher which I so lou'd, and gaue thee, Thou gauest to Cassio. No, by my life and soule, Send for the man and aske him. Sweete soule take heed, take heed of piury, Thou art on thy death-bed. I, but not yet to die. Yes, presently: Therefore confesse thee freely of thy sinne, For to deny each article with oath, Cannot remoue, nor choke the strong conct, That I doe groane withall: thou art to die. Then Lord haue mercy on me. I say Amen. And haue you mercy too: I neuer did offend you in my life,—neuer lou'd Cassio, But with such generall warranty of heauen, As I mght loue: I neuer gaue him token. By heauen I saw my handkercher in his hand, O periured woman, thou doest stone thy heart, And makest me call, what I intend to doe, A murder, which I thought a sacrifice, I saw the handkercher. He found it then, I neuer gaue it him, sed for him hither, And let him confesse a truth. He has confest. What, my Lord? Tha he hath—vds death. How, vnlawfully? I. He will not say so. No, his mouth is stop'd, Honest Iago hath tane order for't. My feare interprets then,—what is he dead? Had all his haires bin liues, My great reuenge had stomacke for 'em all. Alas he is betraid, and I vndone. O strumpet,—weepest thou for him to my face? O bannish me, my Lord, but kill me not. Downe strumpt. Kill me to morrow, let me liue to night. Nay, an you striue. But halfe an houre, but while I say one prayer. Tis too late. O Lord, Lord, Lord. My Lord, my Lord, what ho, my Lord, my Lord. What voyc is this? not dead? not yet quite dead? I that am cruell, am yet mercifull, I would not haue thee linger in thy paine,—so, so. What ho, my Lord, my Lord. Who's there? O good my Lord, I'de speake a word with you. Yes, tis Emillia, by and by: shee's dead: Tis like she comes to speake of Cassios death; The noyse was here; ha, no more mouing, Still as the graue: shall she come in? were't good? I thinke she stirres againe; no, what's the best? If she come in, shee'll sure speake to my wife. My wife, my wife, my wife; I ha no wife; O insupportable: O heauy houre. Me thinks it should be now a huge Ecclips Of Sunne and Moone, and that the affrighted Globe, Should yawne at alteration.