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Evades them with a bombast circumstance,
cient. Rod. By heaven, I rather would have been his
hangman. lago. But there's no remedy, 'tis the curse of ser.
Preferment goes by letter, and affection,
To love the Moor.
Rod. I would not follow him then.
lago. O, sir, content you; I follow him to serve my turn upon him : We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark Many 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, ca
shier'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 lin’d
their coats, Do themselves homage : these fellows have some
And such a one do I profess myself,
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 !
lago. Call up her father, Rouse him: make after him, poison his delight, 70 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.
lago. Do; with like timorous accent, and dire yell, As when, by night and negligence, the fire Is spy'd in populous cities.
Rod. What ho! Brabantio! signior Brabantio, ho! lago. Awake! what, ho! Brabantio! thieves !
thieves ! Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags ! Thieves ! thieves !
BRABANTIO, above, at a Window.
Rod. Signior, is all your family within?
this? lago. 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 !
Bra. What, have you lost your wits ?
Bra. The worse welcome :
Rod. Sir, sir, sir
Bra. But thou must needs be sure,
Rod. Patience, good sir.
Rod. Most grave Brabantio,
lago. 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 cover'd with a Barbary horse ; you'll
have your nephews neigh to you : you'll have coursers for cousins, and gennets for germans. 121
Bra. What profane wretch art thou ?
lago. 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.
you, [If't be your pleasure, and most wise consent