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Duke of Venice.
DESDEMONA, Daughter to Brabantio, and Wife to Othello.
Officers, Gentlemen, Messengers, Musicians, Sailors,
SCENE, for the first Act, in Venice; during the rest of the
Play, at a Seaport in Cyprus.
OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE.
SCENE I. Venice. A Street.
Enter RODERIGO and IAGO. Roderigo. Tusi, never tell me; I take it much un
Iago. 'Sblood, but you will not hear me.-
Rod. Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him in thy hate.
Wherein the toged consuls can propose
Rod. By IIeaven, 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 term am affined 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 followed. 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, cashiered; Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are, Who, trimmed 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 lined 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, 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 !
Call up her father,
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! seignior 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.
Rod. Seignior, is all your family within ?
Why, wherefore ask you this? Iago. 'Zounds, sir, you are robbed; for shame, put on
Bra. What, have you lost your wits?
voice? Bra. Not I; what are you? Rod. My name is — Roderigo. Bra.
The worse welcome;
Rod. Sir, sir, sir, sir,-
But thou must needs be sure,
Patience, good sir. 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'll have coursers for cousins, and genets 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.
You are — a senator.
Strike on the tinder, ho!
[Exit, from above.
Farewell; for I must leave you. It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place, To be produced (as, if I stay, I shall)