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 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!

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. 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! lago. 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?

Red. Signior, is all your family within?

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 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.

Bra. The worse welcome:

My name is Roderigo.

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 Ven

ice;

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 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, Rode rigo.

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

you,

If't be your pleasure, and most wise consent,
(As parily, 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,-
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, from 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 extravagant 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.

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,)
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,

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 rais'd search;

And there will I be with him. So, farewell.

[Exit.

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,
Is naught but bitterness.-Now, Roderigo,
Where didst thou see her?-O, unhappy girl!-
With the Moor, say'st thou?-Who would be a father?-
How didst thou know 'twas she?-O, thou deceiv'st me
Past thought!-What said she to you?-Get more ta-

pers;

Raise all my kindred.-Are they married, think you? Rod. Truly, I think, they are.

Bra. O heaven!-how got she out!-O treason of the blood!

Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds
By what you see them act.-Are there not charms,
By which the property of youth and maidhood
May be abus'd? Have you not read, Roderigo,
Of some such thing?

Rod.

Yes, sir; I have indeed.

Bra. Call up my brother.-O, that 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 ; I may command at most;-Get weapons, ho! And raise some special officers of night.

On, good Roderigo;—I'll deserve your pains. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. Another Street. Enter Othello, lago, and Attendants.

Iago. Though in the trade of war I have slain men, Yet do I hold it very stuff o'the conscience, To do no contriv'd murder; I jack iniquity Sometimes, to do me service: Nine or ten times

I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs. Oth. 'Tis better as it is.

Iago.

Nay, but he prated, And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms Against your honour,

That, with the little godliness I have,

1 did fuli hard forbear him. But, I pray, sir,
Are you fast married? for, be sure of this,-
That the magnifico is much beloved;
And bath, in his effect, a voice potential
As double as the duke's; he will divorce you;
Or put upon you what restraint and grievance
The law (with all his might, to enforce it on,)
Will give him cable.

Oth.
Let him do his spite:
My services, which I have done the signiory,
Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know,
(Which, when I know that boasting is an honour,
I shall promulgate,) I fetch my life and being
From men of royal siege; and my demerits
May speak, unbonneted, to as proud a fortune
As this that I have reach'd: For know, lago,
But that I love the gentle Desdemona,