Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1604 [c.1603-1604] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T44 Drinking: wine, ale and taverns · 469 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T44: drink, wine, numps, ale, butler, pot, sing, moy, drunk, win.
She's a most exquisite Lady. And I'll warrant her, full of Game. Indeed she's a most fresh and delicate creature. What an eye she has? Methinks it sounds a parley to provocation. An inviting eye: And yet me thinks right modest. And when she speaks, Is it not an Alarm to Love? She is indeed perfection. Well: happiness to their Sheets. Come Lieutenant, I have a stoup of Wine, and here without are a brace of Cyprus Gallants, that would fain have a measure to the health of black Othello. Not to night, good Iago, I have very poor, and unhappy Brains for drinking. I could well wish Courtesy would invent some other Custom of entertainment. Oh, they are our Friends: but one Cup, I'll drink for you. I have drunk but one Cup to night, and that was craftily qualified too: and behold what inovation it makes here. I am infortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more. What man? 'Tis a night of Revels, the Gallants desire it. Where are they? here, at the door: I pray you call them in. I'll do't, but it dislikes me. If I can fasten but one Cup upon him With that which he hath drunk to night already, He'll be as full of Quarrel, and offence As my young Mistress dog. Now my sick Fool Rodorigo, Whom Love hath turned almost the wrong side out, To Desdemona hath to night Carrowsed. Potations, pottle-deepe; and he's to watch. Three else of Cyprus, Noble swelling Spirits, (That hold their Honours in a wary distance, The very Elements of this Warlike Isle) Have I to night flustered with flowing Cups, And they Watch too. Now 'mongst this Flock of drunkards Am I put to our Cassio in some Action That may offend the Isle. But here they come. If Consequence do but approve my dream, My Boat sails freely, both with wind and Stream. 'Fore heaven, they have given me a rouse already. Goodfaith a little one: not past a pint, as I am a Soldier. Some Wine hoa. And let me the Cannakin clink, clink: And let me the Cannakin clink. A Soldiers a man: Oh, man's life's but a span, Why then let a Soldier drink. Some Wine Boys. 'Fore Heaven: an excellent Song. I learned it in England: where indeed they are most potent in Potting. Your Dane, your german, and your swag-bellyed Hollander, (drink hoa) are nothing to your English. Is your Englishmen so exquisite in his drinking? Why, he drinks you with facility, your Dane dead drunk. He sweats not to overthrow your Almain. He gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next Pottle can be filled. To the health of our General. I am for it Lieutenant: and I'll do you justice.
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)
She's a moſt exquiſite Lady. And Ile warrant her, full of Game. Indeed ſhes a moſt freſh and delicate creature. What an eye ſhe ha's? Methinkes it ſounds a parley to prouocation. An inuiting eye: And yet me thinkes right modeſt. And when ſhe ſpeakes, Is it not an Alarum to Loue? She is indeed perfection. Well: happineſſe to their Sheetes. Come Lieutenant, I haue a ſtope of Wine, and heere without are a brace of Cyprus Gallants, that would faine haue a meaſure to the health of blacke Othello. Not to night, good Iago, I haue very poore, and vnhappie Braines for drinking. I could well wiſh Curteſie would inuent ſome other Cuſtome of entertainment. Oh, they are our Friends: but one Cup, Ile drinke for you. I haue drunke but one Cup to night, and that was craftily qualified too: and behold what inouation it makes heere. I am infortunate in the infirmity, and dare not taske my weakeneſſe with any more. What man? 'Tis a night of Reuels, the Gallants deſire it. Where are they? Heere, at the doore: I pray you call them in. Ile do't, but it diſlikes me. If I can faſten but one Cup vpon him With that which he hath drunke to night alreadie, He'l be as full of Quarrell, and offence As my yong Miſtris dogge. Now my ſicke Foole Rodorigo, Whom Loue hath turn'd almoſt the wrong ſide out, To Deſdemona hath to night Carrows'd. Potations, pottle-deepe; and he's to watch. Three elſe of Cyprus, Noble ſwelling Spirites, (That hold their Honours in a wary diſtance, The very Elements of this Warrelike Iſle) Haue I to night fluſter'd with flowing Cups, And they Watch too. Now 'mongſt this Flocke of drunkards Am I put to our Caſſio in ſome Action That may offend the Iſle. But here they come. If Conſequence do but approue my dreame, My Boate ſailes freely, both with winde and Streame. 'Fore heauen, they haue giuen me a rowſe already. Good-faith a litle one: not paſt a pint, as I am a Souldier. Some Wine hoa. And let me the Cannakin clinke, clinke: And let me the Cannakin clinke. A Souldiers a man: Oh, mans life's but a ſpan, Why then let a Souldier drinke. Some Wine Boyes. 'Fore Heauen: an excellent Song. I learn'd it in England: where indeed they are moſt potent in Potting. Your Dane, your Germaine, and your ſwag-belly'd Hollander, (drinke hoa) are nothing to your Engliſh. Is your Engliſhmen ſo exquiſite in his drinking? Why, he drinkes you with facillitie, your Dane dead drunke. He ſweates not to ouerthrow your Almaine. He giues your Hollander a vomit, ere the next Pottle can be fill'd. To the health of our Generall. I am for it Lieutenant: and Ile do you Iuſtice.