Iago. Awake: what hoa, Brabantio: Theeues, Theeues. Looke to your house, your daughter, and your Bags, Theeues, Theeues

Bra. Aboue. What is the reason of this terrible Summons? What is the matter there? Rodo. Signior is all your Familie within? Iago. Are your Doores lock'd? Bra. Why? Wherefore ask you this? Iago. Sir, y'are rob'd, for shame put on your Gowne, Your heart is burst, you haue lost halfe your soule Euen now, now, very now, an old blacke Ram Is tupping your white Ewe. Arise, arise, Awake the snorting Cittizens with the Bell, Or else the deuill will make a Grand-sire of you. Arise I say

Bra. What, haue you lost your wits? Rod. Most reuerend Signior, do you know my voice? Bra. Not I: what are you? Rod. My name is Rodorigo

Bra. The worsser welcome: I haue charg'd thee not to haunt about my doores: In honest plainenesse thou hast heard me say, My Daughter is not for thee. And now in madnesse (Being full of Supper, and distempring draughtes) Vpon malitious knauerie, dost thou come To start my quiet

Rod. Sir, Sir, Sir

Bra. But thou must needs be sure, My spirits and my place haue in their power To make this bitter to thee

Rodo. Patience good Sir

Bra. What tell'st thou me of Robbing? This is Venice: my house is not a Grange

Rodo. Most graue Brabantio, In simple and pure soule, I come to you

Ia. Sir: you are one of those that will not serue God, if the deuill bid you. Because we come to do you seruice, and you thinke we are Ruffians, you'le haue your Daughter couer'd with a Barbary horse, you'le haue your Nephewes neigh to you, you'le haue Coursers for Cozens: and Gennets for Germaines

Bra. What prophane wretch art thou? Ia. I am one Sir, that comes to tell you, your Daughter and the Moore, are making the Beast with two backs

Bra. Thou art a Villaine

Iago. You are a Senator

Bra. This thou shalt answere. I know thee Rodorigo

Rod. Sir, I will answere any thing. But I beseech you If't be your pleasure, and most wise consent, (As partly I find it is) that your faire Daughter, At this odde Euen and dull watch o'th' night Transported with no worse nor better guard, But with a knaue of common hire, a Gundelier, To the grosse claspes of a Lasciuious Moore: If this be knowne to you, and your Allowance, We then haue done you bold, and saucie wrongs. But if you know not this, my Manners tell me, We haue your wrong rebuke. Do not beleeue That from the sence of all Ciuilitie, I thus would play and trifle with your Reuerence. Your Daughter (if you haue not giuen her leaue) I say againe, hath made a grosse reuolt, Tying her Dutie, Beautie, Wit, and Fortunes In an extrauagant, and wheeling Stranger, Of here, and euery where: straight satisfie your selfe. If she be in her Chamber, or your house, Let loose on me the Iustice of the State For thus deluding you

Bra. Strike on the Tinder, hoa: Giue me a Taper: call vp all my people, This Accident is not vnlike my dreame, Beleefe of it oppresses me alreadie. Light, I say, light. Enter.

Iag. Farewell: for I must leaue you. It seemes not meete, nor wholesome to my place To be producted, (as if I stay, I shall,) Against the Moore. For I do know the State, (How euer this may gall him with some checke) Cannot with safetie cast-him. For he's embark'd With such loud reason to the Cyprus Warres, (Which euen now stands in Act) that for their soules Another of his Fadome, they haue none, To lead their Businesse. In which regard, Though I do hate him as I do hell paines, Yet, for necessitie of present life, I must show out a Flag, and signe of Loue, (Which is indeed but signe) that you shal surely find him Lead to the Sagitary the raised Search: And there will I be with him. So farewell.

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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A Yorkshire Tragedy
The Tragedie of Romeo and Juliet
The Lamentable Tragedy of Locrine
The Tragedie of Anthonie and Cleopatra
The Tragedie of Coriolanus
The Tragedie of Cymbeline
The Tragedie of Hamlet
The Tragedie of Julius Caesar
The Tragedie of King Lear
The Tragedie of Macbeth
The Tragedie of Othello
The Tragedie of Richard the Third
The Tragedie of Titus Andronicus
Othello, der Mohr von Venedig