Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1604 [c.1603-1604] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
Fear not my government. I once more take my leave. This Fellow's of exceeding honesty, And knows all Quantities with a learned Spirit Of humane dealings. If I do prove her Haggard, Though that her loesses were my dear heartstrings, I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind To pray at Fortune. Haply, for I am black, And have not those soft parts of Conversation That Chamberers have: Or for I am declined Into the vale of years (yet that's not much) she's gone. I am abused, and my relief Must be to loathe her. Oh Curse of Marriage! That we can call these delicate Creatures ours, And not their Appetites? I had rather be a Toad, And live upon the vapour of a Dungeon, Then keep a corner in the thing I love For others uses. Yet 'tis the plague to Great-ones, Prerogatiued are they less than the Base, 'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death: Even then, this forked plague is Fated to us, When we do quicken. Look where she comes: If she be false, Heaven mocked itself: I'll not believe't. How now, my dear Othello? Your dinner, and the generous Islanders By you invited, do attend your presence. I am too blame. Why do you speak so faintly? Are you not well? I have a pain upon my Forehead, here. Why that's with watching, 'twill away again. Let me but bind it hard, within this hour It will be well. Your Napkin is too little: Let it alone: Come, I'll go in with you. I am very sorry that you are not well. I am glad I have found this Napkin: This was her first remembrance from the Moor, My wayward Husband hath a hundred times Wooed me to steal it. But she so loves the Token, (For he conjured her, she should ever keep it) That she reserves it evermore about her, To kiss, and talk too. I'll have the work ta'en out, And give't Iago: what he will do with it Heaven knows, not I: I nothing, but to please his Fantasy. How now? What do you here alone? Do not you chide: I have a thing for you. You have a thing for me? It is a common thing— Ha? To have a foolish wife. Oh, is that all? What will you give me now For that same Handkerchief. What Handkerchief? What Handkerchief? Why that the Moor first gave to Desdemona, That which so often you did bid me steal. Hast stolen it from her? No: but she let it drop by negligence, And to th' advantage, I being here, took't up: Look, here ' 'tis. A good wench, give it me. What will you do with't, that you have been so earnest to have me filch it? Why, what is that to you? If it be not for some purpose of import, Give't me again. Poor Lady, she'll run mad When she shall lack it.
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)
Feare not my gouernment. I once more take my leaue. This Fellow's of exceeding honeſty, And knowes all Quantities with a learn'd Spirit Of humane dealings. If I do proue her Haggard, Though that her leſſes were my deere heart-ſtrings, I'ld whiſtle her off, and let her downe the winde To prey at Fortune. Haply, for I am blacke, And haue not thoſe ſoft parts of Conuerſation That Chamberers haue: Or for I am declin'd Into the vale of yeares (yet that's not much) Shee's gone. I am abus'd, and my releefe Muſt be to loath her. Oh Curſe of Marriage! That we can call theſe delicate Creatures ours, And not their Appetites? I had rather be a Toad, And liue vpon the vapour of a Dungeon, Then keepe a corner in the thing I loue For others vſes. Yet 'tis the plague to Great-ones, Prerogatiu'd are they leſſe then the Baſe, 'Tis deſtiny vnſhunnable, like death: Euen then, this forked plague is Fated to vs, When we do quicken. Looke where ſhe comes: If ſhe be falſe, Heauen mock'd it ſelfe: Ile not beleeue't. How now, my deere Othello? Your dinner, and the generous Iſlanders By you inuited, do attend your preſence. I am too blame. Why do you ſpeake ſo faintly? Are you not well? I haue a paine vpon my Forehead, heere. Why that's with watching, 'twill away againe. Let me but binde it hard, within this houre It will be well. Your Napkin is too little: Let it alone: Come, Ile go in with you. I am very ſorry that you are not well. I am glad I haue found this Napkin: This was her firſt remembrance from the Moore, My wayward Husband hath a hundred times Woo'd me to ſteale it. But ſhe ſo loues the Token, (For he coniur'd her, ſhe ſhould euer keepe it) That ſhe reſerues it euermore about her, To kiſſe, and talke too. Ile haue the worke tane out, And giu't Iago: what he will do with it Heauen knowes, not I: I nothing, but to pleaſe his Fantaſie. How now? What do you heere alone? Do not you chide: I haue a thing for you. You haue a thing for me? It is a common thing — Hah? To haue a fooliſh wife. Oh, is that all? What will you giue me now For that ſame Handkerchiefe. What Handkerchiefe? What Handkerchiefe? Why that the Moore firſt gaue to Deſdemona, That which ſo often you did bid me ſteale. Haſt ſtolne it from her? No: but ſhe let it drop by negligence, And to th' aduantage, I being heere, took't vp: Looke, heere 'tis. A good wench, giue it me. What will you do with't, that you haue bene ſo earneſt to haue me filch it? Why, what is that to you? If it be not for ſome purpoſe of import, Giu't me againe. Poore Lady, ſhee'l run mad When ſhe ſhall lacke it.