Rod. By heaven, I rather would have been his

hangman. lago. But there's no remedy, 'tis the curse of

service; Preferment goes by letter,' and affection, Not by the old gradation, where each second Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself, Whether I in any just terin am affin'da To love the Moor. Rod.

I would not follow him then. Iago. O, sir, content you; I follow him to serve my turn upon him: We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, Wears out his time, much like his master's ass, For nought but provender; and, when he's old,

cashier'd; Whip me such honest knaves: Others there are, Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty, Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves; And, throwing but shows of service on their lords, Do well thrive by them, and, when they have lind

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:

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by letter,] By recommendation from powerful friends. ? Whether I in any just term am affin'd-] Do 1 stand within any such terms of propinquity, or relation to the Moor, as that it is my duty to love him?

honest knaves:] Knave is here for servant, but with a sly niixture of contempt. VOL. X.

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In following him, I follow but myself;
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end:
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern,' 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

Rod. What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe,'
If he can carry't thus !
Iago.

Call up her father, Rouse him: make after him, poison his delight, Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen, And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy, Yet throw such changes of vexation on't, As it may

lose some colour. Rod. Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud, lago. 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! Iago. Awake! what, ho! Brabantio ! thieves !

thieves ! thieves ! Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags! Thieves! thieves!

BRABANTIO, 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 ?

* In compliment extern,] In that which I do only for an outward show of civility.

s What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe,] Full fortune is, a complete piece of good fortune. To owe is to possess.

your wits?

Iago. Are your doors lock’d?
Bra.

Why? wherefore ask you this?
Iago. 'Zounds, sir, you are robb’d; for shame,

put on your gown; Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul; Even now, very now, an old black rain Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise ; Awake the snorting citizens with the bell, Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you: Arise, I say. Bra. What, have

you

lost Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know my

voice?
Bra. Not I; What are you?
Rod. My name is—Roderigo.
Bra.

The worse welcome:
I have 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,
Being full of supper, and distempering draughts,
Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come
To start my quiet.

Rod. Sir, 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;
My house is not a grange.

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is burst,] i. e. broken.

distempering draughts,] To be distempered with liquor, was, in Shakspeare's age, the phrase for intoxication.

this is Venice; My house is not a grange.] That is, “ you are in a populous city, not in a lone house, where a robbery might easily be committed.” Grange is strictly and properly the farm of a monastery,

Rod.

Most grave Brabantio, In siinple, and pure soul I come to you.

lago. 'Zounds, sir, you are one of those, that will not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to do

you
service, 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

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germans.

Bra. What profane wretch art thou?

lago. 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, Ro

derigo. Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing. But I beseech

you, If’t be your pleasure, and most wise consent, (As partly, I find, it is,) that your fair daughter, At this odd-even and dull watch o'the night, Transported—with no worse nor better guard, But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier, To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor,

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where the religious reposited their corn. Grangia, Lat, from Granum. But in Lincolnshire, and in other northern counties, they call every lone house, or farm which stands solitary, a grange.

your nephews neigh to you:) Nephew, in this instance, has the power of the Latin word nepos, and signifies a grandson, or any lineal descendant, however remote.

gennets for germans.] A jennet is a Spanish horse. ? At this odd-even and dull watch o'the night,) By this singular expression,—“ this odd-even of the night,” our poet appears to have meant, that it was just approaching to, or just past, that it was doubtful whether at that moment it stood at the point of midnight, or at some other less equal division of the twenty-fourhours; which a few minutes either before or after midnight would be.

If this be known to

you,
and
your

allowance,
We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs;
But, if you know not this, my manners tell me,
We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe,
That, froin the sense of all civility,
I thus would play and trifle with your reverence:
Your daughter,-if you have not given her leave,
I say again, hath made a gross revolt;
Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes,
In an extravagants and wheeling stranger,
Of here and every where: Straight satisfy yourself:
If she be in her chamber, or your house,
Let loose on me the justice of the state
For thus deluding you.
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!

[Exit, from above. lago.

Farewell; for I must leave you: It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place, To be produc'd (as, if I stay, I shall,) Against the Moor: For, I do know, the state,However this may gall him with some check, Cannot with safety cast him;' for he's embark'd With such loud reason to the Cyprus' wars, (Which even now stand in act,) that, for their souls, Another of his fathom they have not, To lead their business: in which regard, Though I do hate him as I do hell pains, Yet, for necessity of present life,

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and

your allowance,] i. e. done with your approbation. * That, from the sense of all civility,] That is, in opposition to, or departing from, the sense of all civility. * In an extravagant-] For wandering:

some check,] Some rebuke.
cast him;] That is, dismiss him; reject him.

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