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As masterly as he; meer prattle, without practice,
Is all his foldierfhiphe had th' election;
And I, of whom his eyes had feen the proof
At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds
Christian and heath'n, must be belee'd and calm'd (5)
By Debitor, and Creditor, this Counter-cafter;
He, in good time, muft his lieutenant be,
And I, (God blefs the mark !) his Moor-fhip's Ancient.
Rod. By heav'n, I rather would have been his hangman.
Iago. But there's no remedy, 'tis the curfe of fervice;
Preferment goes by letter and affection,
And not by old gradation, where each fecond-
Stood heir to th' firft. Now, Sir, be judge your felf,
If I in any juft term am affign'd
To love the Moor.
Rod. I would not follow him then.
Iago. O Sir, content you;
But now let me proceed to explain, why I have ventured to fubftitute Counsellor's in the Room of Confuls: and then, I hope, the Alteration will not appear arbitrary. The Venetian Nobility, 'tis well known, conftitute the great Council of the Senate, and are a Part of the Administration; and fummon'd to affift and counsel the Doge, who is Prince of the Senate; and, in that Regard, has only Precedency before the other Magiftrates. So that, in this Refpect, they may very properly be call'd Counsellors. Again, when the Officer comes from the Duke to Brabantio, in a subsequent Scene of this Act, he says,
The Duke's in Council, and your Noble felf,...
I'm fure, is fent for.
And when Brabantio comes into the Senate, the Duke fays to him;
We lack'd your Counsel, and your Help to Night.
Now Brabantio was a Senator, but no Conful. Befides, tho' the Government of Venice was Democratic at firft, under Confuls and Tribunes; that Form of Power has been totally abrogated, fince Doges have been elected: And whatever Confuls of other States may be refident there, yet they have no more a Voice, or Place, in the publick Councils, or in what concerns Peace or War; than foreign Ambaffadors can have in our Parliament.
(5) Must be led and calm'd.] There is no Confonance of Metaphor in these two Terms. I have chofe to read with the first Folio, and several other of the old Editions. Belee'd is a Sea-Term as well as calm'd; and a Ship is faid to be belee'd, when the lies clofe under the Wind, on the LeeShore; makes no Sail,
A a 4
I follow him to ferve my turn upon him.
We cannot all be mafters, nor all mafters
Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
That, doting on his own obfequious bondage,
Wears out his time, much like his master's afs,
For nought but provender; and when he's old, cafheir'd
Whip me fuch honest knaves-Others there are,
Who, trimm'd in forms and vifages of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves;
And, throwing but shows of fervice on their lords,
Well thrive by them; and when they've lin❜d their coats,
Do themselves homage. These folks have fome foul,
And fuch a one do I profefs my felf.
It is as fure as you are Rodrigo,
Were I the Moor, I would not be Jago:
In following him, I follow but my self.
Heav'n is my judge, not I, for love and duty;
But, feeming fo, for my peculiar end:
For when my outward action doth demonftrate
The native act and figure of my heart
hearth v Ber
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after k
But I will wear my heart upon my fleeve,
For daws to peck at, I'm not what I feem.
Rod. What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe,
If he can carry her thus ?
Iago. Call up her father
Roufe him, make after him, poifon his delight. T
Proclaim him in the streets, incenfe her kinsmen.
And tho' he in a fertile climate dwell, Au
Plague him with flies: tho that his joy be joy,
Yet throw fuch changes of vexation on't,
As it may lofe fome colour,
Rod. Here is her father's houfe, I'll call aloud.
Tago. Do, with like timorous accent, and dire yell,
As when, by night and negligence, the fire
Is fpied in populous cities.
Rod. What, ho! Brabantio! Signior Brabantio! ho.
Iago, Awake! what, ho!
Brabantio! ho thieves!
Look to your houfe, your daughter, and your bags:
... 26 19μ?
Brabantio appears above, at a window.
Bra, What is the reafon of this terrible fummons ? What is the matter there?
Rod. Signior, is all your family within ?
Jago. Are all doors lock'd?
Bra. Why? wherefore afk you this?
Iago. Zounds! Sir, you're robb'd: for fhame, put
on your Gown;
Your heart is burst, you have lost half
Ev'n now, ev'n very now, an old black ram
Is tupping your white ewe. Arife, arife,
Awake the fnorting citizens with the bell,
Or else the Devil will make a grandfire of you.
Arife, I fay.
Bra. What, have you loft your wits?
Rod. Most reverend fignior, do
Bra. Not I; what are you?
Rod. My name is Rodorigo.
Bra. The worfe welcome ;
I've charg'd thee not to haunt about my doors:
In honeft plainness thou haft heard me say,
My daughter's not for thee. And now in madness,
Being full of fupper and diftemp'ring draughts,
Upon malicious bravery doft thou come
To start my quiet.
Rod. Sir, Sir, Sir
Bra. But thou must needs be sure,
My fpirit and my place have in their power
To make this bitter to thee.
My house is not a grange.
Rod. Patience, good Sir.
Bra. What tell'ft thou me of robbing? this is Venice:
Rod. Moft grave Brabantio,
In fimple and pure foul, I come to you.
Iago Zounds! Sir, you are one of those that will not ferve 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 hoffe, you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll have courfers for coufins, and gennets for germans.
Bra. What prophane wretch art thou?
Iago. I am one, Sir, that comes to tell you, your daughter and the Moor are now making the beaft with two backs.
Bra. Thou art a villain.
Iago. You are a fenator.
Bra. This thou fhalt anfwer. I know thee, Rodorigo.
Rod, Sir, I will answer any thing. But I beseech you,
If't be your pleasure and moft wife confent,
(As partly, I find, it is,) that your fair daughter,
At this odd even and dull watch o'th' night,
Transported with no worse nor better guard,
But with a knave of hire, a Gandalier,
To the grofs clafps of a lafcivious Moor:
If this be known to you, and your allowance,
We then have done you bold and fawcy wrongs.
But if you know not this, my manners tell me,
We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe,
That from the fenfe of all civility
I thus would play, and trifle with your reverence.
Your daughter, if you have not giv'n her leave,
I fay again, hath made a grofs revolt;
Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes
To an extravagant and wheeling stranger,
Of here and every where ; ftraight fatisfie
If fhe be in her chamber, or your house,
Let loose on me the juftice 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 oppreffes me already.
Light, I fay, light!
Lago. Farewel; for I must leave you.
It seems not meet, nor wholfome to my place,
To be produc'd (as if I ftay, I fhall)
Against the Moor. For I do know, the State,
However this may gall him with fome check,
Cannot with fafety caft him. For he's embark'da 13
With fuch loud reafon to the Cyprus' wars,
Which ev'n now ftand in act, that, for their fouls,
Another of his fadom they have none,
To lead their bufinefs. In which regard,
Tho' I do hate him as I do hell's pains,
Yet, for neceffity of prefent life,
I must shew out a flag and fign of love:
(Which is, indeed, but fign.)
Lead to the Sagittary the raised fearch;
And there will I be with him. So, farewel.
Enter Brabantio, and fervants with torches.
Bra. It is too true an evil. Gone she is
And what's to come of my defpifed time,
Is nought but bitterness. Now, Rodorigo,
Where didst thou fee her? oh unhappy girl!
With the Moor, faift thou? who would be a father?
How didft thou know 'twas fhe; oh, fhe deceives me
Paft thought-What faid fhe to you? get more tapers→→→→
Raife all my kindredare they married, think you?
Rod. Truly, I think, they are.
Bra. Oh heaven! how gat fhe out?
Oh treafon of my blood!
Fathers, from hence truft 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, Rodorigo,
Of fome fuch thing?
Rod. Yes, Sir, I have, indeed.
Bra. Call up my brother: oh, would you had had her;
Some one way, fome 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 houfe I'll call,
may command at moft; get weapons, hoa!
And raise fome fpecial officers of might:
On, good Rodorigo, I'll deferve your pains.