Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1604 [c.1603-1604] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T50 Fleets, armies and generals: war by sea typicality 0.76 · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
I am glad on't: 'Tis a worthy Governor. But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort, Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly, And praye the Moore be safe; for they were ted With fowl and violent Tempest. Pray Heavens he be: For I have served him, and the man commands Like a full Soldier. Let's to the Seaside (hoa) As well to see the Vessel that's come in, As to throwout our eyes for brave Othello, Even till we make the main, and th' Eriall blue, An indistinct regard. Come, let's do so; For every Minute is expectancy Of more Arrivancie. Thanks you, the valiant of the warlike Isle, That so approve the Moor: Oh let the Heavens Give him defence against the Elements, For I have lost him on a dangerous Sea. Is he well shipped? His Bark is stoutly Timbered, and his Pilot Of very expert, and approved Allowance; Therefore my hope's (not surfeited to death) Stand in bold Cure. A Sail, a Sail, a Sail. What noise? The Town is empty; on the brow o' th' Sea Stand ranks of People, and they cry, a Sail. My hopes do shape him for the Governor. They do discharge their Shot of Courtesy, Our Friends, at least. I pray you Sir, go forth, And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived. I shall. But good Lieutenant, is your General wived? Most fortunately: he hath achieved a Maid That paragons description, and wild Fame: One that excels the quirks of Blazoning pens, And in th' essential Vesture of Creation, Does tire the Ingeniver. How now? Who has put in? 'Tis one Iago, Ancient to the General. ha's had most favourable, and happy speed: Tempests themselves, high Seas, and howling winds, The gutter'd-Rockes, and Congregated Sands, Traitors insteeped, to enclogge the guiltless Keel, As having sense of Beauty, do omit Their mortal Natures, letting go safely by The Divine Desdemona. What is she? She that I spoke of: Our great Captain's Captain, Left in the conduct of the bold Iago, Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts, A Senights' speed. Great Ioue, Othello guard, And swell his Sail with thine own powerful breath, That he may bless this Bay with his tall Ship, Make loves quick pants in Desdemonaes' Arms, Give renewed fire to our extincted Spirits. Oh behold, The Riches of the Ship is come on shore: You men of Cyprus, let her have your knees. Hail to thee Lady: and the grace of Heaven, Before, behind thee, and on every hand Enwheele thee round. I thank you, Valiant Cassio, What tidings can you tell of my Lord? He is not yet arrived, nor know I ought But that he's well, and will be shortly here. Oh, but I fear: How lost you company? The great Contention of Sea, and Skies Parted our fellowship. But hark, a Sail. A Sail, a Sail. They give this greeting to the Citadel: This likewise is a Friend.
seed 43: T47 · seed 44: T45 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I am glad on't: 'Tis a worthy Gouernour. But this ſame Caſſio, though he ſpeake of comfort, Touching the Turkiſh loſſe, yet he lookes ſadly, And praye the Moore be ſafe; for they were ted With fowle and violent Tempeſt. Pray Heauens he be: For I haue ſeru'd him, and the man commands Like a full Soldier. Let's to the Sea-ſide (hoa) As well to ſee the Veſſell that's come in, As to throw-out our eyes for braue Othello, Euen till we make the Maine, and th' Eriall blew, An indiſtinct regard. Come, let's do ſo; For euery Minute is expectancie Of more Arriuancie. Thankes you, the valiant of the warlike Iſle, That ſo approoue the Moore: Oh let the Heauens Giue him defence againſt the Elements, For I haue loſt him on a dangerous Sea. Is he well ſhip'd? His Barke is ſtoutly Timber'd, and his Pylot Of verie expert, and approu'd Allowance; Therefore my hope's (not ſurfetted to death) Stand in bold Cure. A Saile, a Saile, a Saile. What noiſe? The Towne is empty; on the brow o' th' Sea Stand rankes of People, and they cry, a Saile. My hopes do ſhape him for the Gouernor. They do diſcharge their Shot of Courteſie, Our Friends, at leaſt. I pray you Sir, go forth, And giue vs truth who 'tis that is arriu'd. I ſhall. But good Lieutenant, is your Generall wiu'd? Moſt fortunately: he hath atchieu'd a Maid That paragons deſcription, and wilde Fame: One that excels the quirkes of Blazoning pens, And in th' eſſentiall Veſture of Creation, Do's tyre the Ingeniuer. How now? Who ha's put in? 'Tis one Iago, Auncient to the Generall. Ha's had moſt fauourable, and happie ſpeed: Tempeſts themſelues, high Seas, and howling windes, The gutter'd-Rockes, and Congregated Sands, Traitors enſteep'd, to enclogge the guiltleſſe Keele, As hauing ſence of Beautie, do omit Their mortall Natures, letting go ſafely by The Diuine Deſdemona. What is ſhe? She that I ſpake of: Our great Captains Captaine, Left in the conduct of the bold Iago, Whoſe footing heere anticipates our thoughts, A Senights ſpeed. Great Ioue, Othello guard, And ſwell his Saile with thine owne powrefull breath, That he may bleſſe this Bay with his tall Ship, Make loues quicke pants in Deſdemonaes Armes, Giue renew'd fire to our extincted Spirits. Oh behold, The Riches of the Ship is come on ſhore: You men of Cyprus, let her haue your knees. Haile to thee Ladie: and the grace of Heauen, Before, behinde thee, and on euery hand Enwheele thee round. I thanke you, Valiant Caſſio, What tydings can you tell of my Lord? He is not yet arriu'd, nor know I ought But that he's well, and will be ſhortly heere. Oh, but I feare: How loſt you company? The great Contention of Sea, and Skies Parted our fellowſhip. But hearke, a Saile. A Saile, a Saile. They giue this greeting to the Cittadell: This likewiſe is a Friend.