A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife ;(6) More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric, : As masterly as he mere prattle, without practice, And I-God bless the mark!-his Moorship's ancient. Rod. By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman. Iago. Why, there's no remedy; 'tis the curse of service, Preferment goes by letter and affection, And not by old gradation, where each second Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself, To love the Moor. Rod. I would not follow him, then. Iago. O, sir, content you; him : I follow him to serve my turn upon are, Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves; And, throwing but shows of service on their lords, Do well thrive by them, and, when they've lin'd their coats, Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul; And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir, It is as sure as you are Roderigo, Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago: In following him, I follow but myself; Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, Rod. What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe, Call up her father, Iago. Plague him with flies; though that his joy be joy, As it may lose some colour. Rod. Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud. Iago. Do; with like timorous accent and dire yell As when, by night and negligence, the fire Is spied in populous cities. Rod. What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho! Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags! thieves! BRABANTIO appears above, at a window. Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons? What is the matter there? Rod. Signior, is all your family within? lago. Are your doors lock'd? Bra. Why, wherefore ask you this? Iago. Zounds, sir, you're robb'd; for shame, put on your gown; Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul; Even now, now, very now, Is tupping your white ewe. an old black ram Arise, arise; Awake the snorting citizens with the bell, Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you: Bra. What, have you lost your wits? Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know my voice? Rod. My name is Roderigo. Bra. The worser welcome: I've charg'd thee not to haunt about my doors: In honest plainness thou hast heard me say My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness, To start my quiet ;— Rod. Sir, sir, sir, Bra. But thou must needs be sure My spirit and my place have in them power To make this bitter to thee. Rod. Patience, good sir. Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is Venice; Rod. Iago. Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service, and you think we are ruffians, you'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse; you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll have coursers for cousins, and gennets for germans. Bra. What profane wretch art thou? Iago. I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs. Bra. Thou art a villain. Iago. You are a senator. Bra. This thou shalt answer: I know thee, Roderigo. If 't be your pleasure and most wise consent, We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs; I thus would play and trifle with your reverence : Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes, In an extravagant and wheeling stranger Of here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself: Bra. Strike on the tinder, ho! Give me a taper!-call up all my people !— This accident is not unlike my dream: Belief of it oppresses me already. Light, I say! light! Iago. [Exit above. Farewell; for I must leave you: I must show out a flag and sign of love, Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him, Lead to the Sagittary the raised search; And there will I be with him. So, farewell. Enter, below, BRABANTIO, and Servants with torches. Bra. It is too true an evil : gone she is ; And what's to come of my despised time [Exit. With the Moor, say'st thou?-Who would be a father!— Bra. O heaven!-How got she out!-O treason of the Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds Rod. Yes, sir, I have indeed. Bra. Call up my brother.-O, would you had had her!— Some one way, some another.-Do you know Where we may apprehend her and the Moor? Rod. I think I can discover him, if you please To get good guard, and go along with me. Bra. Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call; On, good Roderigo ;-I'll deserve your pains. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The same. Another street. Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Attendants with torches. Iago. Though in the trade of war I have slain men, Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience To do no cóntriv'd murder: I lack iniquity Sometimes to do me service: nine or ten times I had thought t' have yerk'd him here under the ribs. Lago. Nay, but he prated, And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms Against your honour, That, with the little godliness I have, I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray you, sir, |