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Duke of Venice.
Desdemona, daughter to Brabantio, and wife to
Officers, Gentlemen, Messengers, Musicians, Sailors,
Scene, for the first Act, in Venice; during the rest of
the play, at a sea-port in Cyprus.
Enter Roderigo and Iago. Rod. Tush, never tell me, I take it much un
kindly, 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 in
thy hate. Iago. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones
of the city, In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, Oft capp'd to him ;-and, by the faith of man,
I know my price, I am worth no worse a place;
cient. 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, 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 affin’d
I would not follow him then.
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
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! 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 sum
Rod. Signior, is all your family within?
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;