Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1604 [c.1603-1604] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.75 · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
It is the Cause, it is the Cause (my Soul) Let me not name it to you, you chaste Stars, It is the Cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood, Nor scare that whiter skin of hers, than Snow, And smooth as Monumental Alabaster: Yet she must dye, else she'll betray more men: Put out the Light, and then put out the Light: If I quench thee, thou flaming Minister, I can again thy former light restore, Should I repent me. But once put out thy Light, Thou cunningest Pattern of excelling Nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat That can thy Light re-Lume. When I have plucked thy Rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, It needs must whither. I'll smell thee on the Tree. Oh Balmy breath, that dost almost persuade justice to break her Sword. One more, one more: Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And love thee after. One more, and that's the last. So sweet, was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, But they are cruel Tears: This sorrow's heavenly, It strikes, where it doth love. She wakes. Who's there? Othello? I Desdemona. Will you come to bed, my Lord? Have you prayed to night, Desdemona? I my Lord. If you bethink yourself of any Crime Vnreconcil'd as yet to Heaven, and Grace, Solicit for it strait. Alack, my Lord, What may you mean by that? Well, do it, and be brief, I will walk by: I would not kill thy unprepared Spirit, No, Heavens forefend) I would not kill thy Soul. Talk you of killing? I, I do. Then Heaven have mercy on me. Amen, with all my heart. If you say, I hope you will not kill me. Humh. And yet I fear you: for you're fatal then When your eyes roll so. Why I should fear, I know not, Since guiltiness I know not: But yet I feel I fear. Think on thy sins. They are loves I bear to you. I, and for that thou diest. That death's unnatural, that kills for loving. Alas, why gnaw you so your nether-lip? Some bloody passion shakes your very Frame: These are portents: but yet I hope, I hope, They do not point on me. Peace, and be still. I will so: What's the matter? That Handkerchief Which I so loved, and gave thee, thou gav'st to Cassio. No by my Life, and Soul: send for the man, And ask him. Sweet Soul, take heed, take heed of Perjury, Thou art on thy deathbed. I, but not yet to dye. Presently. Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin: For to deny each Article with Oath, Cannot remove, nor choke the strong Conception That I do groan withal. Thou art to dye. O Heaven have mercy on me. I say, Amen. And have you mercy too. I never did Offend you in my life: never loved Cassio, But with such general warranty of Heaven, As I might love. I never gave him Token.
nodes 2766–2839 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 47 of 52 in this edition
Length
506 words · 703 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.755 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T10 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
It is the Cauſe, it is the Cauſe (my Soule) Let me not name it to you, you chaſte Starres, It is the Cauſe. Yet Ile not ſhed her blood, Nor ſcarre that whiter skin of hers, then Snow▪ And ſmooth as Monumentall Alablaſter: Yet ſhe muſt dye, elſe ſhee'l betray more men: Put out the Light, and then put out the Light: If I quench thee, thou flaming Miniſter, I can againe thy former light reſtore, Should I repent me. But once put out thy Light, Thou cunning'ſt Patterne of excelling Nature, I know not where is that Promethae heate That can thy Light re-Lume. When I haue pluck'd thy Roſe, I cannot giue it vitall growth againe, It needs muſt wither. Ile ſmell thee on the Tree. Oh Balmy breath, that doſt almoſt perſwade Iuſtice to breake her Sword. One more, one more: Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And loue thee after. One more, and that's the laſt. So ſweet, was ne're ſo fatall. I muſt weepe, But they are cruell Teares: This ſorrow's heauenly, It ſtrikes, where it doth loue. She wakes. Who's there? Othello? I Deſdemona. Will you come to bed, my Lord? Haue you pray'd to night, Deſdemon? I my Lord. If you bethinke your ſelfe of any Crime Vnreconcil'd as yet to Heauen, and Grace, Solicite for it ſtraight. Alacke, my Lord, What may you meane by that? Well, do it, and be breefe, I will walke by: I would not kill thy vnprepared Spirit, No, Heauens fore-fend) I would not kill thy Soule. Talke you of killing? I, I do. Then Heauen haue mercy on mee. Amen, with all my heart. If you ſay, I hope you will not kill me. Humh. And yet I feare you: for you're fatall then When your eyes rowle ſo. Why I ſhould feare, I know not, Since guiltineſſe I know not: But yet I feele I feare. Thinke on thy ſinnes. They are Loue I beare to you. I, and for that thou dy'ſt. That death's vnnaturall, that kils for louing. Alas, why gnaw you ſo your nether-lip? Some bloody paſſion ſhakes your very Frame: Theſe are portent: but yet I hope, I hope, They do not point on me. Peace, and be ſtill. I will ſo: What's the matter? That Handkerchiefe Which I ſo lou'd, and gaue thee, thou gau'ſt to Caſſio. No by my Life, and Soule: ſend for the man, And aske him. Sweet Soule, take heed, take heed of Periury, Thou art on thy death-bed. I, but not yet to dye. Preſently. Therefore confeſſe thee freely of thy ſinne: For to deny each Article with Oath, Cannot remoue, nor choake the ſtrong Conception That I do grone withall. Thou art to dye. O Heauen haue mercy on me. I ſay, Amen. And haue you mercy too. I neuer did Offend you in my life: neuer lou'd Caſſio, But with ſuch generall warrantie of Heauen, As I might loue. I neuer gaue him Token.