Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1604 [c.1603-1604] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T50 Fleets, armies and generals: war by sea · 570 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
Never tell me, I take it much unkindly That thou (Iago) who hast had my purse, As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this. But you'll not hear me. If ever I did dream Of such a matter, abhor me. Thou told'st me, Thou didst hold him in thy hate. Despise me If I do not. Three Great-ones of the City, (In personal suit to make me his Lieutenant) Off-capt to him: and by the faith of man I know my price, I am worth no worse a place. But he (as loving his own pride, and purposes) Euades them, with a bombast Circumstance, Horribly stuffed with Epithets of war, Nonsuits my Mediators. For certes, says he, I have already chose my Officer. And what was he? Forsooth, a great Arithmatician, One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, (A Fellow almost damned in a fair Wife) That never set a Squadron in the Field, Nor the division of a Battle knows More than a Spinster. Unless the Bookish Theoric: Wherein the Tongued Consuls can propose As Masterly as he. Mere prattle (without practice) Is all his Soldiership. But he (Sir) had th' election; And I (of whom his eyes had seen the proof At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on others grounds Christened, and Heathen) must be be-leed, and calmed By Debtor, and Creditor. This Counter-caster, He (in good time) must his Lieutenant be, And I (bless the mark) his Mooreships Ancient. By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman. Why, there's no remedy. 'Tis the curse of Service; Preferment goes by Letter, and affection, And not by old gradation, where each second Stood Heir to ' th' first. Now Sir, be judge yourself, Whether I in any just term am Affined To love the Moor? I would not follow him then. O Sir content you. I follow him, to serve my turn upon him. We cannot all be Masters, nor all Masters Cannot be truly followed. You shall mark Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave; That (doting on his own obsequious bondage) Wears out his time, much like his Master's Ass, For naught but Provender, & when he's old Cashiered. Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are Who trymed in Forms, and visages of Duty, Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves, And throwing but shows of Service on their Lords Do well thrive by them. And when they have lined their Coats Do themselves Homage. These Fellows have some soul, And such a one do I profess myself. For (Sir) It is as sure as you are Rodorigo, Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago: In following him, I follow but myself. Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, But seeming so, for my peculiar end: For when my outward Action doth demonstrate The native act, and figure of my heart In Compliment extern, 'tis not long after But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For Daws to peck at; I am not what I am. What a fall Fortune does the Thicks-lips own If he can carry't thus? Call up her Father: Rouse him, make after him, poison his delight, Proclaim him in the Streets. Incense her kinsmen, And though he in a fertile Climate dwell, Plague him with Flies: though that his joy be joy, Yet throw such chances of vexation on't, As it may lose some colour.
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)
NEuer tell me, I take it much vnkindly That thou (Iago) who haſt had my purſe, As if ye ſtrings were thine, ſhould'ſt know of this. But you'l not heare me. If euer I did dream Of ſuch a matter, abhorre me. Thou told'ſt me, Thou did'ſt hold him in thy hate. Deſpiſe me If I do not. Three Great-ones of the Cittie, (In perſonall ſuite to make me his Lieutenant) Off-capt to him: and by the faith of man I know my price, I am worth no worſſe a place. But he (as louing his owne pride, and purpoſes) Euades them, with a bumbaſt Circumſtance, Horribly ſtufft with Epithites of warre, Non-ſuites my Mediators. For certes, ſaies he, I haue already choſe my Officer. And what was he? For-ſooth, a great Arithmatician, One Michaell Caſſio, a Florentine, (A Fellow almoſt damn'd in a faire Wife) That neuer ſet a Squadron in the Field, Nor the deuiſion of a Battaile knowes More then a Spinſter. Vnleſſe the Bookiſh Theoricke: Wherein the Tongued Conſuls can propoſe As Maſterly as he. Meere pratle (without practiſe) Is all his Souldierſhip. But he (Sir) had th' election; And I (of whom his eies had ſeene the proofe At Rhodes, at Ciprus, and on others grounds Chriſten'd, and Heathen) muſt be be-leed, and calm'd By Debitor, and Creditor. This Counter-caſter, He (in good time) muſt his Lieutenant be, And I (bleſſe the marke) his Mooreſhips Auntient. By heauen, I rather would haue bin his hangman. Why, there's no remedie. 'Tis the curſſe of Seruice; Preferment goes by Letter, and affection, And not by old gradation, where each ſecond Stood Heire to' th' firſt. Now Sir, be iudge your ſelfe, Whether I in any iuſt terme am Affin'd To loue the Moore? I would not follow him then. O Sir content you. I follow him, to ſerue my turne vpon him. We cannot all be Maſters, nor all Maſters Cannot be truely follow'd. You ſhall marke Many a dutious and knee-crooking knaue; That (doting on his owne obſequious bondage) Weares out his time, much like his Maſters Aſſe, For naught but Prouender, & when he's old Caſheer'd. Whip me ſuch honeſt knaues. Others there are Who trym'd in Formes, and viſages of Dutie, Keepe yet their hearts attending on themſelues, And throwing but ſhowes of Seruice on their Lords Doe well thriue by them. And when they haue lin'd their Coates Doe themſelues Homage. Theſe Fellowes haue ſome ſoule, And ſuch a one do I profeſſe my ſelfe. For (Sir) It is as ſure as you are Rodorigo, Were I the Moore, I would not be Iago: In following him, I follow but my ſelfe. Heauen is my Iudge, not I for loue and dutie, But ſeeming ſo, for my peculiar end: For when my outward Action doth demonſtrate The natiue act, and figure of my heart In Complement externe, 'tis not long after But I will weare my heart vpon my ſleeue For Dawes to pecke at; I am not what I am. What a fall Fortune do's the Thicks-lips owe If he can carry't thus? Call vp her Father: Rowſe him, make after him, poyſon his delight, Proclaime him in the Streets. Incenſe her kinſmen, And though he in a fertile Clymate dwell, Plague him with Flies: though that his Ioy be Ioy, Yet throw ſuch chances of vexation on't, As it may looſe ſome colour.