Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1604 [c.1603-1604] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 471 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Be near at hand, I may miscarry in't. here, at thy hand: Be bold, & take thy stand. I have no great devotion to the deed, And yet he hath given me satisfying Reasons: 'Tis but a man gone. Forth my Sword: he dies. I have rubbed this young Quat almost to the sense, And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio, Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other, Every way makes my gain. Live Rodorigo, He calls me to a restitution large Of Gold, and jewels, that I bobbed from him, As Gifts to Desdemona. It must not be: If Cassio do remain, He hath a daily beauty in his life, That makes me ugly: and besides, the Moor May unfold me to him: there stand I in much peril: No, he must dye. But so, I heard him coming. I know his gate, 'tis he: Villain thou diest. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed, But that my Coat is better than thou knowst: I will make proof of thine. Oh, I am slain. I am maimed for ever: Help hoa: Murder, murder. The voice of Cassio, Iago keeps his word. O Villain that I am. It is even so. Oh help hoa: Light, a Surgeon. 'Tis he: O brave Iago, honest, and just, That hast such Noble sense of thy Friends wrong, Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies dead, And your unblessed Fate highes: Strumpet I come: For of my heart, those Charms thine Eyes, are blotted. Thy Bed lust-stained, shall with Lust's blood be spotted. What hoa? no Watch? No passage? Murder, Murder. 'Tis some mischance, the voice is very direful. Oh help. Hark. Oh wretched Villain. Two or three groan. 'Tis heavy night; These may be counterfeits: Let's think't unsafe To come into the cry, without more help. Nobody come: then shall I bleed to death. Hark. Here's one comes in his shirt, with Light, and Weapons. Who's there? Who's noise is this that cries on murder? We do not know. Do not you hear a cry? here, here: for heaven sake help me. What's the matter? This is Othello's Ancient, as I take it. The same indeed, a very valiant Fellow. What are you here, that cry so grievously? Iago? Oh I am spoiled, undone by Villains: Give me some help. O me, Lieutenant! What Villains have done this? I think that one of them is hereabout, And cannot make away. Oh treacherous Villains: What are you there? Come in, and give some help. O help me there. That's one of them. Oh murderous Slave! O Villain! O damned Iago! O inhuman Dog! Kill men i' th' dark? Where be these bloody thieves? How silent is this Town? Hoa, murder, murder. What may you be? Are you of good, or evil?
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T30 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Be neere at hand, I may miſcarry in't. Heere, at thy hand: Be bold, & take thy ſtand. I haue no great deuotion to the deed, And yet he hath giuen me ſatisfying Reaſons: 'Tis but a man gone. Forth my Sword: he dies. I haue rub'd this yong Qat almoſt to the ſenſe, And he growes angry. Now, whether he kill Caſſio, Or Caſſio him, or each do kill the other, Euery way makes my gaine. Liue Rodorigo, He calles me to a reſtitution large Of Gold, and Iewels, that I bob'd from him, As Guifts to Deſdemona. It muſt not be: If Caſſio do remaine, He hath a dayly beauty in his life, That makes me vgly: and beſides, the Moore May vnfold me to him: there ſtand I in much perill: No, he muſt dye. But ſo, I heard him comming. I know his gate, 'tis he: Villaine thou dyeſt. That thruſt had beene mine enemy indeed, But that my Coate is better then thou know'ſt: I will make proofe of thine. Oh, I am ſlaine. I am maym'd for euer: Helpe hoa: Murther, murther. The voyce of Caſſio▪ Iago keepes his word. O Villaine that I am. It is euen ſo. Oh helpe hoa: Light, a Surgeon. 'Tis he: O braue Iago, honeſt, and iuſt, That haſt ſuch Noble ſenſe of thy Friends wrong, Thou teacheſt me. Minion, your deere lyes dead, And your vnbleſt Fate highes: Strumpet I come: For of my heart, thoſe Charmes thine Eyes, are blotted. Thy Bed luſt-ſtain'd, ſhall with Luſts blood bee ſpotted. What hoa? no Watch? No paſſage? Murther, Murther. 'Tis ſome miſchance, the voyce is very direfull. Oh helpe. Hearke. Oh wretched Villaine. Two or three groane. 'Tis heauy night; Theſe may be counterfeits: Let's think't vnſafe To come into the cry, without more helpe. Nobody come: then ſhall I bleed to death. Hearke. Here's one comes in his ſhirt, with Light, and Weapons. Who's there? Who's noyſe is this that cries on murther? We do not know. Do not you heare a cry? Heere, heere: for heauen ſake helpe me. What's the matter? This is Othello's Ancient, as I take it. The ſame indeede, a very valiant Fellow. What are you heere, that cry ſo greeuouſly? Iago? Oh I am ſpoyl'd, vndone by Villaines: Giue me ſome helpe. O mee, Lieutenant! What Villaines haue done this? I thinke that one of them is heereabout▪ And cannot make away. Oh treacherous Villaines: What are you there? Come in, and giue ſome helpe. O helpe me there. That's one of them. Oh murd'rous Slaue! O Villaine! O damn'd Iago! O inhumane Dogge▪ Kill men i' th' darke? Where be theſe bloody Theeues? How ſilent is this Towne? Hoa, murther, murther. What may you be? Are you of good, or euill?