Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1604 [c.1603-1604] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
O that the Slave had forty thousand lives: One is too poor, too weak for my revenge. Now do I see 'tis true. Look here Iago, All my fond love thus do I blow to Heaven. 'Tis gone, Arise black vengeance, from the hollow hell, Yield up (O Love) thy Crown, and hearted Throne To tyrannous Hate. Swell bosom with thy fraught, For 'tis of Aspickes tongues. Yet be content. Oh blood, blood, blood. Patience I say: your mind may change. Never Iago. Like to the Pontic Sea, Whose Icy Current, and compulsive course, Ne'er keeps retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Proponticke, and the Hellespont: Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble Love, Till that a capable, and wide Revenge Swallow them up. Now by yond Marble Heaven, In the due reverence of a Sacred vow, I here engage my words. Do not rise yet: Witness you everburning Lights above, You Elements, that clip us round about, Witness that here Iago doth give up The execution of his wit, hands, heart, To wronged Othello's Service. Let him command, And to obey shall be in me remorse, What bloody business ever. I greet thy love, Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, And will upon the instant put thee too't. Within these three days let me hear thee say, That Cassio's not alive. My Friend is dead: 'Tis done at your Request. But let her live. Damn her lewd Minx: O damn her, damn her. Come go with me apart, I will withdraw To furnish me with some swift means of death For the fair Devil. Now art thou my Lieutenant. I am your own for ever. Do you know Sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies? I dare not say he lies any where. Why man? He's a Soldier, and for me to say a Soldier lies, 'tis stabbing. Go too: where lodges he? To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lie. Can any thing be made of this? I know not where he lodges, and for me to device a lodging, and say he lies here, or he lies there, were to lie in mine own throat. Can you inquire him out? and be edified by report? I will Catechise the world for him, that is, make Questions, and by them answer. Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him, I have moved my Lord on his behalf, and hope all will be well. To do this, is within the compass of man's Wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing it. Where should I lose the Handkerchief, Aemilia? I know not Madam. Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse Full of Cruzadoes. And but my Noble Moor Is true of mind, and made of no such baseness, As jealous Creatures are, it were enough To put him to ill-thinking.
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)
O that the Slaue had forty thouſand liues: One is too poore, too weake for my reuenge. Now do I ſee 'tis true. Looke heere Iago, All my fond loue thus do I blow to Heauen. 'Tis gone, Ariſe blacke vengeance, from the hollow hell, Yeeld vp (O Loue) thy Crowne, and hearted Throne To tyrannous Hate. Swell boſome with thy fraught, For 'tis of Aſpickes tongues. Yet be content. Oh blood, blood, blood. Patience I ſay: your minde may change. Neuer Iago. Like to the Ponticke Sea, Whoſe Icie Current, and compulſiue courſe, Neu'r keepes retyring ebbe, but keepes due on To the Proponticke, and the Helleſpont: Euen ſo my bloody thoughts, with violent pace Shall neu'r looke backe, neu'r ebbe to humble Loue, Till that a capeable, and wide Reuenge Swallow them vp. Now by yond Marble Heauen, In the due reuerence of a Sacred vow, I heere engage my words. Do not riſe yet: Witneſſe you euer-burning Lights aboue, You Elements, that clip vs round about, Witneſſe that heere Iago doth giue vp The execution of his wit, hands, heart, To wrong'd Othello's Seruice. Let him command, And to obey ſhall be in me remorſe, What bloody buſineſſe euer. I greet thy loue, Not with vaine thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, And will vpon the inſtant put thee too't. Within theſe three dayes let me heare thee ſay, That Caſſio's not aliue. My Friend is dead: 'Tis done at your Requeſt. But let her liue. Damne her lewde Minx: O damne her, damne her. Come go with me a-part, I will withdraw To furniſh me with ſome ſwift meanes of death For the faire Diuell. Now art thou my Lieutenant. I am your owne for euer. Do you know Sirrah, where Lieutenant Caſſio lyes? I dare not ſay he lies any where. Why man? He's a Soldier, and for me to ſay a Souldier lyes, 'tis ſtabbing. Go too: where lodges he? To tell you where he lodges, is to tel you where I lye. Can any thing be made of this? I know not where he lodges, and for mee to deuiſe a lodging, and ſay he lies heere, or he lies there, were to lye in mine owne throat. Can you enquire him out? and be edified by report? I will Catechize the world for him, that is, make Queſtions, and by them anſwer. Seeke him, bidde him come hither: tell him, I haue moou'd my Lord on his behalfe, and hope all will be well. To do this, is within the compaſſe of mans Wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing it. Where ſhould I looſe the Handkerchiefe, Aemilia? I know not Madam. Beleeue me, I had rather haue loſt my purſe Full of Cruzadoes. And but my Noble Moore Is true of minde, and made of no ſuch baſeneſſe, As iealious Creatures are, it were enough To put him to ill-thinking.