ACT 1. SCENE I. Venice. A street.

by William Shakespeare

　　Enter Roderigo and Iago

　　Roderigo

　　(Tush) never tell me; I take it much unkindlyThat thou, Iago, who hast had my purseAs if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.Iago

　　(S'blood), but you will not hear me!If ever I did dream of such a matter,Abhor me.Roderigo

　　Thou toldst me thou didst hold him in thy hate.Iago

　　Despise meIf I do not. Three great ones of the city,In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,Off-capped to him; and, by the faith of man,I know my price, I am worth no worse a place.But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,Evades them with a bombast circumstance,Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war,(And, in conclusion),Nonsuits my mediators. For, "Certes," says he,"I have already chose my officer."And what was he?Forsooth, a great arithmetician,One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,A fellow almost damned in a fair wife;That never set a squadron in the field,Nor the division of a battle knowsMore than a spinster -unless the bookish theoric,Wherein the (toged) consuls can proposeAs masterly as he. Mere prattle, without practise,Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had th' election;And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proofAt Rhodes, at Cyprus and on (other) groundsChristian and heathen, must be be-lee'd andCalmedBy debitor and creditor. This countercaster,He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,And I (God) bless the mark! his Moorship's ancient.Roderigo

　　By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.Iago

　　Why, there's no remedy. 'Tis the curse of service,.Preferment goes by letter and affection,And not by old gradation, where each secondStood heir to th' first. Now, sir, be judge yourself,Whether I in any just term am affinedTo love the Moor.Roderigo

　　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 mastersCannot be truly followed. You shall markMany 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,Cashier'd.Whip me such honest knaves! Others there areWho, 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 linedtheir coatsDo themselves homage. These fellows have somesoul.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 demonstrateThe native act and figure of my heartIn compliment extern, 'tis not long afterBut I will wear my heart upon my sleeveFor daws to peck at. I am not what I am.Roderigo

　　What a (full) fortune does the (thick-lips) oweIf 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 color.Roderigo

　　Here is her father's house. I'll call aloud.Iago

　　Do, with like timorous accent and dire yellAs when, by night and negligence, the fireIs spied in populous cities.Roderigo

　　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 appears above, at a windowBrabantio

　　What is the reason of this terrible summons?What is the matter there?Roderigo

　　Signior, is all your family within?Iago

　　Are your doors lock'd?Brabantio

　　Why, wherefore ask you this?Iago

　　'Zounds, sir, you're robb'd; for shame, put onyour gown;Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;Even now, now, very now, an old black ramIs 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.Brabantio

　　What, have you lost your wits?Roderigo

　　Most reverend signior, do you know my voice?Brabantio

　　Not I what are you?Roderigo

　　My name is Roderigo.Brabantio

　　The worser welcome:I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors:In honest plainness thou hast heard me sayMy daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness,Being full of supper and distempering draughts,Upon malicious bravery, dost thou comeTo start my quiet.Roderigo

　　Sir, sir, sir,--Brabantio

　　But thou must needs be sureMy spirit and my place have in them powerTo make this bitter to thee.Roderigo

　　Patience, good sir.Brabantio

　　What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is Venice;My house is not a grange.Roderigo

　　Most grave Brabantio,In simple and pure soul I come to you.Iago

　　'Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will notServe God, if the devil bid you. Because we come toDo you service and you think we are ruffians, you'llHave your daughter covered with a Barbary horse;You'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll haveCoursers for cousins and gennets for germans.Brabantio

　　What profane wretch art thou?Iago

　　I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughterAnd the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.Brabantio

　　Thou art a villain.Iago

　　You are--a senator.Brabantio

　　This thou shalt answer; I know thee, Roderigo.Roderigo

　　Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you,If't be your pleasure and most wise consent,As partly I find it is, that your fair daughter,At this odd-even and dull watch o' the night,Transported, with no worse nor better guardBut 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 meWe have your wrong rebuke. Do not believeThat, 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 fortunesIn an extravagant and wheeling strangerOf here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself:If she be in her chamber or your house,Let loose on me the justice of the stateFor thus deluding you.Brabantio

　　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 above

　　Iago

　　Farewell; for I must leave you:It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,To be produced--as, if I stay, I shall--Against the Moor: for, I do know, the state,However this may gall him with some cheque,Cannot with safety cast him, for he's embark'dWith such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,Which even now stand in act, that, for their souls,Another of his fathom they have none,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 raised search;And there will I be with him. So, farewell.Exit

　　Enter, below, Brabantio, and Servants with torches

　　Brabantio

　　It is too true an evil: gone she is;And what's to come of my despised timeIs nought 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 she deceives mePast thought! What said she to you? Get more tapers:Raise all my kindred. Are they married, think you?Roderigo

　　Truly, I think they are.Brabantio

　　O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood!Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' mindsBy what you see them act. Is there not charmsBy which the property of youth and maidhoodMay be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo,Of some such thing?Roderigo

　　Yes, sir, I have indeed.Brabantio

　　Call up my brother. O, would you had had her!Some one way, some another. Do you knowWhere we may apprehend her and the Moor?Roderigo

　　I think I can discover him, if you please,To get good guard and go along with me.Brabantio

　　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