OTH E L L 0. ACT I. SCENE I. Venice. A Street. Enter RODERIGO, and IAGO. Rod. TUSH, never tell me, I take it much unkindly, That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse, As if the strings were thine, should'st know of this. Iago. 'Sblood, but you will not hear me if ever I did dream of such a matter, abhor me. Rod. Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him Three great in thy hate. Iago. Despise me, if I do not. ones of the city, In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, man, and, by the faith of I know my price, I am worth no worse place: a But he, as loving his own pride and purposes, And, in conclusion, nonsuits my mediators; A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife; More than a spinster; unless the bookish theorick, Wherein the toged consuls can propose As masterly as he: mere prattle, without prac tice, Is all his soldiership. But, he, sir, had the election: At Rhodes, at Cyprus; and on other grounds Christian and heathen, calm'd must be be-lee'd and By debitor and creditor, this counter-caster; 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, yourself, Whether I in any just term am affin'd 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: 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 lin'd their coats, Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul; And such a one do I profefs myself. For, sir, It is as sure as you are Roderigo, Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago: For when my outward action doth demonstrate In compliment extern, 'tis not long after 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 kins men, 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, 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! 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? Bra. Bra. Why, wherefore ask you this? Iago. 'Zounds, sir, you are robb'd; for shame, put on your gown; Your heart is hurst, you have lost half your soul; Even now, very now, an old black ram 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 your wits? 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, 2 nefs, Being full of supper, and distempering draughts, Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come 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. 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 |