tr Keep yet their hearts attending on themfelves; "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 some soul, And fuch a one do I profess myself. It is as fure as you are Rodorigo, Were I the Moor, I would not be lago: For when my outward action doth demonstrate Rod. What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe, Iago Call up her father, Roufe him, make after him, poison his delight; Plague him with flies; though that his joy be joy, As it may lofe fome colour. Rod. Here is her father's house, I'll call aloud. lage. Do with like timorous accent, and dire yell, "As when, by night and negligence, the fire "Is fpread in populous cities." Rod. What, ho! Brabantio! Signior Brabantio! ho. lago. Awake! what, ho! Brabantio! ho! thieves! thieves! Look to your houfe, your daughter and your bags: 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? complement, i. e. fulness. Iago. 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 your foul; Bra What, have you loft your wits? Rod. Moft Reverend Signior, do you know Rod, My name is Rodorigo. I've charg'd thee not to haunt about my doors ; My daughter's not for thee. And now in madness, To start my quiet. Rod. Sir, Sir, Sir Bra. But thou must needs be fure, My spirit and my place have in their power To make this bitter to thee. Rod. Patience, good Sir. Bra. What tell'ft thou me of robbing? this is VeMy houfe is not a grange. Rod. Moft grave Brabantio, In fimple and pure foul I come to you. [nice: Iago. Zounds! Sir, you are one of thofe 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 horse, you'll have yar nephews neigh to you, you'll have courfers for coufins, and gennets for germanes. Bra. What profane wretch art thou? Iago. 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. lago. You are a fenator. VOL. VIII. R Bra. This thou fhalt answer. I know thee, Rodorigo. Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing. But I beseech you f't be your pleasure and most wise consent, (As partly find it is), that your fair daughter To the grofs clafps of a lascivious Moor; I thus would play, and trifle with your reverence. Tying her duty, beauty, wit, fortunes, Of here and every where; ftraight fatisfy yourself. Let loofe on me the juftice of the state Bra. Strike on the tinder, ho! [Exit Brabantio from above. Which ev'n now ftand in act, that, for their fouls, To lead their business. In which regard, I must shew out a flag and fign of love: Vhich is indeed but fign, That you may furely find him, Enter Brabantio, and Servants with torches. Bra. It is too true an evil. Gone the is; With the Moor, faidft thou? who would be a father? tapers What faid fhe to you? get more Raife all my kindred- are they married, think you Bra. Oh Heaven! how gat fhe out? Oh treafon of my blood! Fathers, from hence truft not your daughters' minds Rod. Yes, Sir, I have indeed. Bra. Call up my brother: oh, 'would you had hade Some one way, fo ne another- Do you know [her !! Where we may apprehend her and the Moor? Rod. I think I can difcover him, if you please To get good guard, and go along with me. Bra. Pray you lead on. At every houfe I'll call, And raise fome fpecial officers of might: On, good Rodorigo, I'll deferve your pains. [Exeunts Ghanges to anther street before the Sagittary. Enter Othello, Iago, and Attendants with torches.. Iago. Tho' in the trade of war I have flain men,, Yet do I hold it very ftuff o' th' confcience i.. vexatious, To do no contriv'd murther: I lack iniquity Sometimes to do me fervice.- Nine or ten times I thought to've jerk'd him here under the ribs. Oth. 'Tis better as it is. Iago. Nay, but he prated, And spoke fuch fcurvy and provoking terms That, with the little godlinefs I have, I did full hard forbear him. But I pray, Sir, As double * as the Duke's: he will divorce you, Oth. Let him do his fpight: My fervices, which I have done the fignory, I would not my unhoufed free condition For the fea's worth. But look! what lights come yonder? SCENE V. Enter Caffio with torches. Iago. Thofe are the raised father, and his friends: You were belt go in. Oth Not I: I must be found. My parts, my title, and my perfect foul, Iago. By Janus, I think, no. Oth. The fervants of the Duke, and my lieutenant. The goodness of the night upon you, friends! What is the news? Caf. The Duke does greet you, General; And he requires your hafte, poft hafte, appearance, * i. e. as large or extensive, |