OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. ACT I. SCENE I. Venice. A Street. Enter RODERIGO and IAGO. Roderigo. EVER tell me; I take it much unkindly, Iago. But you'll not hear me. If ever Of such a matter, abhor me. Rod. Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him in thy bate. Iago. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city, In personal suit to make me his Lieutenant, One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, A fellow almost damn'd in a fair life; 1 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. But 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 Whether I in any just term am affin'd To love the Moor. Rod. I would not follow him then. I follow him to serve my turn upon him. Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are, Do themselves homage. These fellows have some soul: And such a one do I profess myself; for, sir, Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago. Rod. What a full fortune does the Thick-lips owe, If he can carry't thus! lago. 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. Iago. Do; with like timorous accent and dire yell, As when, by night and negligence, the fire Rod. What ho! Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho! 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? Iago. Are your doors lock'd? Bra. Why? wherefore ask you this? Iago. 'Zounds, sir, y'are robb'd; for shame, put on your gown. Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul; Bra. What! have you lost your wits? Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know my voice? Bra. Not I; what are you? Rod. My name is Roderigo. The worser welcome. Bra. 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 distemp'ring draughts, Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come To start my quiet. Rod. Bra. Sir, sir, sir.. My spirit and my place have in them power But thou must needs be sure, Patience, good sir. To make this bitter to thee. Rod. Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is Venice; My house is not a grange. Rod. Most grave Brabantio, In simple and pure soul I come to you. 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, you think we are ruffians. You'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse; you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you will have coursers for cousins, and gennets for ger mans. 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, Roderigo. 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, thus would play and trifle with your reverence. Your daughter-if you have not given her leaveI say again, hath made a gross revolt; Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes, Of here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself. 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! Iago. 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 [Exit, from above. Against the Moor: for, I do know, the State |