Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1604 [c.1603-1604] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T46 Swords, quarrels and valour · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T46: rapier, sword, fight, gentlemen, gentleman, kicked, kill, dagger, signor, valour.
I have another weapon in this Chamber, It was a Sword of Spain, the Ice brooks temper: Oh here it is: Uncle I must come forth. If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear; Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer. Look in upon me then, and speak with me, Or naked as I am I will assault thee. What is the matter? Behold, I have a weapon: A better never did itself sustain Upon a Soldiers Thigh. I have seen the day, That with this little Arm, and this good Sword, I have made my way through more impediments Then twenty times your stop. But (oh vain boast) Who can control his Fate? 'Tis not so now. Be not afraid, though you do see me weaponed: here is my journey's end, here is my butt And very Sea-mark of my utmost Sail. Do you go back dismayed? 'Tis a lost fear: Man but a Rush against Othello's breast, And he retires. Where should Othello go? Now: how dost thou look now? Oh ill-starred wench, Pale as thy Smock: when we shall meet at count, This look of thine will hurl my Soul from Heaven, And Fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my Girl? Even like thy Chastity. O cursed, cursed Slave! Whip me ye Devils, From the possession of this Heavenly sight: Blow me about in winds, roast me in Sulphur, Wash me in steepe-downe gulfs of Liquid fire. Oh Desdemona! dead Desdemona: dead. Oh, oh! Where is this rash, and most unfortunate man? That's he that was Othello: here I am. Where is that Viper? Bring the Villain forth. I look down towards his feet; but that's a Fable, If that thou be'st a Devil, I cannot kill thee. Wrench his Sword from him. I bleed Sir, but not killed. I am not sorry neither, I'd have thee live: For in my sense, 'tis happiness to die. Oh thou Othello, that was once so good, Fallen in the practice of a cursed Slave, What shall be said to thee. Why any thing: An honourable Murderer, if you will: For nought I did in hate, but all in Honour. This wretch hath part confessed his Villainy: Did you and he consent in Cassio's death. I. Dear General, I never gave you cause. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon: Will you, I pray, demand that demy-divell, Why he hath thus ensnared my Soul and Body. Demand me nothing: what you know, you know: From this time forth, I never will speak word. What? not to pray? Torments will open your lips. Well, thou dost best. Sir, You shall understand what hath befallen, (Which, as I think, you know not) here is a Letter Found in the pocket of the slain Rodorigo, And here another, the one of them imports The death of Cassio, to be undertook By Rodorigo.
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)
I haue another weapon in this Chamber, It was a Sword of Spaine, the Ice brookes temper: Oh heere it is: Vnkle I muſt come forth. If thou attempt it, it will coſt thee deere; Thou haſt no weapon, and perforce muſt ſuffer. Looke in vpon me then, and ſpeake with me, Or naked as I am I will aſſault thee. What is the matter? Behold, I haue a weapon: A better neuer did it ſelfe ſuſtaine Vpon a Soldiers Thigh. I haue ſeene the day, That with this little Arme, and this good Sword, I haue made my way through more impediments Then twenty times your ſtop. But (oh vaine boaſt) Who can controll his Fate? 'Tis not ſo now. Be not affraid, though you do ſee me weapon'd: Heere is my iournies end, heere is my butt And verie Sea-marke of my vtmoſt Saile. Do you go backe diſmaid? 'Tis a loſt feare: Man but a Ruſh againſt Othello's breſt, And he retires. Where ſhould Othello go? Now: how doſt thou looke now? Oh ill-Starr'd wench, Pale as thy Smocke: when we ſhall meete at compt, This looke of thine will hurle my Soule from Heauen, And Fiends will ſnatch at it. Cold, cold, my Girle? Euen like thy Chaſtity. O curſed, curſed Slaue! Whip me ye Diuels, From the poſſeſſion of this Heauenly ſight: Blow me about in windes, roaſt me in Sulphure, Waſh me in ſteepe-downe gulfes of Liquid fire. Oh Deſdemon! dead Deſdemon: dead. Oh, oh! Where is this raſh, and moſt vnfortunate man? That's he that was Othello: heere I am. Where is that Viper? Bring the Villaine forth. I look down towards his feet; but that's a Fable, If that thou bee'ſt a Diuell, I cannot kill thee. Wrench his Sword from him. I bleed Sir, but not kill'd. I am not ſorry neither, Il'd haue thee liue: For in my ſenſe, 'tis happineſſe to die. Oh thou Othello, that was once ſo good, Falne in the practiſe of a curſed Slaue, What ſhall be ſaide to thee. Why any thing: An honourable Murderer, if you will: For nought I did in hate, but all in Honour. This wretch hath part confeſt his Villany: Did you and he conſent in Caſſio's death. I. Deere Generall, I neuer gaue you cauſe. I do beleeue it, and I aske your pardon: Will you, I pray, demand that demy-Diuell, Why he hath thus enſnar'd my Soule and Body. Demand me nothing: what you know, you know: From this time forth, I neuer will ſpeake word. What? not to pray? Torments will ope your lips. Well, thou doſt beſt. Sir, You ſhall vnderſtand what hath befalne, (Which, as I thinke, you know not) heere is a Letter Found in the pocket of the ſlaine Rodorigo, And heere another, the one of them imports The death of Caſſio, to be vndertooke By Rodorigo.