Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1604 [c.1603-1604] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Villainy, villainy, villainy: I think upon't, I think: I smeled: O Villainy: I thought so then: I'll kill myself for grief. O villainy! villainy! What, are you mad? I charge you get you home. Good Gentlemen, let me have leave to speak: 'Tis proper I obey him; but not now: Perchance Iago, I will ne'er go home. Oh, oh, oh. Nay, lay thee down, and roar: For thou hast killed the sweetest innocent, That ere did lift up eye. Oh she was fowl! I scarce did know you Uncle, there lies your Niece, Whose breath (indeed) these hands have newly stopped: I know this act shows horrible and grim. Poor Desdemona: I am glad thy Father's dead, Thy Match was mortal to him: and pure grief Shore his old thread in twain. Did he live now, This sight would make him do a desperate turn: Yea, curse his better Angel from his side, And fall to Reprobance. 'Tis pitiful: but yet Iago knows That she with Cassio, hath the Act of shame, A thousand times committed. Cassio confessed it, And she did gratify his amorous works With that Recognizance and pledge of Love Which I first gave her: I saw it in his hand: It was a Handkerchief, an Antique Token My Father gave my Mother. Oh Heaven! oh heavenly Powers! Come, hold your peace. 'Twill out, 'twill out, I peace? No, I will speak as liberal as the North; Let Heaven, and Men, and Devils, let them all, All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak. Be wise, and get you home. I will not. Fie, your Sword upon a Woman. Oh thou dull Moor, That Handkerchief thou speakest of I found by Fortune, and did give my Husband: For often, with a solemn earnestness, (More than indeed belonged to such a Trifle) He begged of me, to stealeed. Villainous Whore. She give it Cassio? No, alas I found it, And I did give't my Husband. Filth, thou liest. By Heaven I do not, I do not Gentlemen: Oh murderous Coxcomb, what should such a Fool Do with so good a wife? Are there no stones in Heaven, But what serves for the Thunder? Precious Villain. The woman falls: Sure he hath killed his Wife. I, I: oh lay me by my Mistress side. he's gone, but his wife's killed. 'Tis a notorious Villain: take you this weapon Which I have recovered from the Moor: Come guard the door without, let him not pass, But kill him rather. I'll after that same villain, For 'tis a damned Slave. I am not valiant neither: But every Puny whipster gets my Sword. But why should Honour outlive Honesty? Let it go all. What did thy Song bode Lady? Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the Swan, And dye in Music: Willough, Willough, Willough. Moor, she was chaste: She loved thee, cruel Moor, So come my Soul to bliss, as I speak true: So speaking as I think, alas, I die.
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)
Villany, villany, villany: I thinke vpon't, I thinke: I ſmel't: O Villany: I thought ſo then: Ile kill my ſelfe for greefe. O villany! villany! What, are you mad? I charge you get you home. Good Gentlemen, let me haue leaue to ſpeake: 'Tis proper I obey him; but not now: Perchance Iago, I will ne're go home. Oh, oh, oh. Nay, lay thee downe, and roare: For thou haſt kill'd the ſweeteſt innocent, That ere did lift vp eye. Oh ſhe was fowle! I ſcarſe did know you Vnkle, there lies your Neece, Whoſe breath (indeed) theſe hands haue newly ſtopp'd: I know this acte ſhewes horrible and grim. Poore Deſdemon: I am glad thy Father's dead, Thy Match was mortall to him: and pure greefe Shore his old thred in twaine. Did he liue now, This ſight would make him do a deſperate turne: Yea, curſe his better Angell from his ſide, And fall to Reprobance. 'Tis pittifull: but yet Iago knowes That ſhe with Caſſio, hath the Act of ſhame▪ A thouſand times committed. Caſſio confeſt it, And ſhe did gratifie his amorous workes With that Recognizance and pledge of Loue Which I firſt gaue her: I ſaw it in his hand: It was a Handkerchiefe, an Antique Token My Father gaue my Mother. Oh Heauen! oh heauenly Powres! Come, hold your peace. 'Twill out, 'twill out▪ I peace? No, I will ſpeake as liberall as the North; Let Heauen, and Men, and Diuels, let them all, All, all, crie ſhame againſt me, yet Ile ſpeake. Be wiſe, and get you home. I will not. Fye, your Sword vpon a Woman. Oh thou dull Moore, That Handkerchiefe thou ſpeak'ſt of I found by Fortune, and did giue my Husband: For often, with a ſolemne earneſtneſſe, (More then indeed belong'd to ſuch a Trifle) He begg'd of me, to ſteale't. Villanous Whore. She giue it Caſſio? No, alas I found it, And I did giu't my Husband. Filth, thou lyeſt. By Heauen I do not, I do not Gentlemen: Oh murd'rous Coxcombe, what ſhould ſuch a Foole Do with ſo good a wife? Are there no ſtones in Heauen, But what ſerues for the Thunder? Precious Villaine. The woman falles: Sure he hath kill'd his Wife. I, I: oh lay me by my Miſtris ſide. Hee's gone, but his wife's kill'd. 'Tis a notorious Villain: take you this weapon Which I haue recouer'd from the Moore: Come guard the doore without, let him not paſſe, But kill him rather. Ile after that ſame villaine, For 'tis a damned Slaue. I am not valiant neither: But euery Punie whipſter gets my Sword. But why ſhould Honor out-liue Honeſty? Let it go all. What did thy Song boad Lady? Hearke, canſt thou heare me? I will play the Swan, And dye in Muſicke: Willough, Willough, Willough. Moore, ſhe was chaſte: She lou'd thee, cruell Moore, So come my Soule to bliſſe, as I ſpeake true: So ſpeaking as I thinke, alas, I dye.