Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1604 [c.1603-1604] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T11 Siblings, kin and confidants · 503 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T11: sister, brother, love, friend, heart, father, mother, woman, lord, hear.
Valiant Othello, we must strait employ you, Against the general Enemy Ottoman. I did not see you: welcome gentle Signior, We lacked your Counsel, and your help to night. So did I yours: Good your Grace pardon me. Neither my place, hor ought I heard of business Hath raised me from my bed; nor doth the general care Take hold on me. For my particular grief Is of so floodgate, and ore-bearing Nature, That it engluts, and swallows other sorrows, And it is still itself. Why? What's the matter? My Daughter: oh my Daughter! Dead? I, to me. She is abused, stolen from me, and corrupted By Spells, and Medicines, bought of Mountebanks; For Nature, so preposterously to err, (Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,) Sans witchcraft could not. Who ere he be, that in this foul proceeding Hath thus beguiled your Daughter of herself, And you of her; the bloody Book of Law, You shall yourself read, in the bitter letter, After your own sense: yea, though our proper Son Stood in your Action. Humbly I thank your Grace, Here is the man; this Moor, whom now it seems Your special Mandate, for the State affairs Hath hither brought. We are very sorry for't. What in your own part, can you say to this? Nothing, but this is so. Most Potent, Grave, and Reuerened Signiors, My very Noble, and approved good Masters; That I have ta'en away this old man's Daughter, It is most true: true I have married her; The very head, and front of my offending, Hath this extent; no more. Rude am I, in my speech, And little blessed with the soft phrase of Peace; For since these Arms of mine, had seven years' pith, Till now, some nine Moons wasted, they have used Their dearest action, in the Tented Field: And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to Feats of Broils, and Battle, And therefore little shall I grace my cause, In speaking for myself. Yet, (by your gracious patience) I will a round vn-varnished Tale deliver, Of my whole course of Love.. What Drugs, what Charms, What Conjuration, and what mighty Magic, (For such proceeding I am charged withal) I won his Daughter. A Maiden, never bold: Of Spirit so still, and quiet, that her Motion Blushed at herself, and she, in spite of Nature, Of Years, of Country, Credit, every thing To fall in Love, with what she feared to look on; It is a judgement maimed, and most imperfect. That will confess Perfection so could err Against all rules of Nature, and must be driven To find out practices of cunning hell Why this should be. I therefore vouch again, That with some Mixtures, powerful o'er the blood, Or with some Dram, (conjured to this effect) He wtought up on her. To vouch this, is no proof, Without more wider, and more over Test Then these thin habits, and poor likelihoods Of modern seeming, do prefer against him.
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)
Valiant Othello, we muſt ſtraight employ you, Againſt the generall Enemy Ottoman. I did not ſee you: welcome gentle Signior, We lack't your Counſaile, and your helpe to night. So did I yours: Good your Grace pardon me. Neither my place, hor ought I heard of buſineſſe Hath rais'd me from my bed; nor doth the generall care Take hold on me. For my perticular griefe Is of ſo flood-gate, and ore-bearing Nature, That it engluts, and ſwallowes other ſorrowes, And it is ſtill it ſelfe. Why? What's the matter? My Daughter: oh my Daughter! Dead? I, to me. She is abus'd, ſtolne from me, and corrupted By Spels, and Medicines, bought of Mountebanks; For Nature, ſo prepoſtrouſly to erre, (Being not deficient, blind, or lame of ſenſe,) Sans witch-craft could not. Who ere he be, that in this foule proceeding Hath thus beguil'd your Daughter of her ſelfe, And you of her; the bloodie Booke of Law, You ſhall your ſelfe read, in the bitter letter, After your owne ſenſe: yea, though our proper Son Stood in your Action. Humbly I thanke your Grace, Here is the man; this Moore, whom now it ſeemes Your ſpeciall Mandate, for the State affaires Hath hither brought. We are verie ſorry for't. What in your owne part, can you ſay to this? Nothing, but this is ſo. Moſt Potent, Graue, and Reueren'd Signiors, My very Noble, and approu'd good Maſters; That I haue tane away this old mans Daughter, It is moſt true: true I haue married her; The verie head, and front of my offending, Hath this extent; no more. Rude am I, in my ſpeech, And little bleſs'd with the ſoft phraſe of Peace; For ſince theſe Armes of mine, had ſeuen yeares pith, Till now, ſome nine Moones waſted, they haue vs'd Their deereſt action, in the Tented Field: And little of this great world can I ſpeake, More then pertaines to Feats of Broiles, and Battaile, And therefore little ſhall I grace my cauſe, In ſpeaking for my ſelfe. Yet, (by your gratious patience) I will a round vn-varniſh'd Tale deliuer, Of my whole courſe of Loue. What Drugges, what Charmes, What Coniuration, and what mighty Magicke, (For ſuch proceeding I am charg'd withall) I won his Daughter. A Maiden, neuer bold: Of Spirit ſo ſtill, and quiet, that her Motion Bluſh'd at her ſelfe, and ſhe, in ſpight of Nature, Of Yeares, of Country, Credite, euery thing To fall in Loue, with what ſhe fear'd to looke on; It is a iudgement main'd, and moſt imperfect. That will confeſſe Perfection ſo could erre Againſt all rules of Nature, and muſt be driuen To find out practiſes of cunning hell Why this ſhould be. I therefore vouch againe, That with ſome Mixtures, powrefull o're the blood, Or with ſome Dram, (coniur'd to this effect) He wtought vp on her. To vouch this, is no proofe, Without more wider, and more ouer Teſt Then theſe thin habits, and poore likely-hoods Of moderne ſeeming, do prefer againſt him.