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Wherein the toged counf'lors can propofen(2)
And I, (God blefs the mark!) his moor-fhip's ancient.
And not by old gradation, where each fecond
To love the Moor.
Rod. I would not follow him then.
Iago. O Sir, content you;
I follow him to ferve my turn upon him.
(2) Wherein the tongued Confuls.] So the generality of the Impreffions read; but the oldeft Quarto has it toged; (which gave the Hint for my Emendation;) the Senators, that affifted the Duke in Council, in their proper Gowes.me But let me explain why I have ventured to fubftitute Counsellors in the Room of Confuls; and then, I hope, the Alteration will not appear arbitrary. enetian Nobility, it is well known, conftitute the great Council Senate, and are a Part of the Adminiftration; and fummoned to affift and counsel the Doge, who is Prince of the Senate; and, in that Regard, has only Precedency before the other Magif trates. So that, in this Refpect, they may very properly be called Counsellors. Bendes, though the Government of Venice was Democra tick 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 Ambassadors can have in our Parliament.
Wears out his time, much like his mafter's afs,
It is as fure as you are Rodrigo,
Were I the Moor, I would not be lago:
Iago. Call up her father,
poifon his delight; et
As it may lofe some colour.
Rod. Here is her father's houfe, I'll call aloud. Iago. 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. Jago. 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?
་ Iago. Are all doors lock'd?
Bra. Why? wherefore afk you this?
Iago. Zounds! Sir, you're robb'd, for fhame, put on
Your heart is burft, you have loft half your foul:
Or elfe the Devil will make a grand fire of you.
Bra. What, have you loft your wits?
Red. Moft reverend fignior, do you know my voice?
Rod. My name is Roderige.
I've charg'd thee not to haunt about my doors:
To start my quiet.
Rod. Sir, Sir, Sir
Bra. But thou must needs be fure,
My fpirit and my place have in their power
To make this bitter to thee.
Rod. Patience, good Sir.
Bra. What tell'it thou me of robbing? this is Fenice: My houfe is not a grange.
Rod. Moft grave Brabantio,
In fimple and pure foul, I come to you.
Jago. Zounds! Sir, you are one of thofe that will.
not ferve God, if the Devil bid you.
Because we come to do you fervice, 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 courfers for coufins, and gennets for germanes.
Bra. What prophane wretch art thou?
lago. 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, Rodrigo. Rod. Sir, I will anfwer any thing. But I befeech you, If't be your pleasure and moft wife confent,
(As partly, I find, it is,) that your fair daughter,
To the grofs clafps of a lafcivious Moor:
I thus would play, and trifle with your reverence.
Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes
Let loofe 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,
Light, I fay, light!
lago. Farewel; for I must leave you.
Cannot with fafety caft him.
For he's embark'd With fuch loud reason to the Cyprus' wars,
Which ev'n now fland in act, that, for their fouls,
Another of his fadom they have none,
To lead their bufinefs. In which regard,
I muft fhew out a flag and fign of love:
(Which is, indeed, but fign.) Thatyou may furely find him, Lead to the Sagittary the rais'd fearch;
And there will I be with him. So, farewel.
Enter Brabantio, and fervants with torches.
Bra. It is too true an evil. Gone fhe is; And what's to come of my defpifed time, Is nought but bitternefs. Now, Roderigo, Where didft thou fee her oh unhappy girl! With the Moor, faidft thou? who would be a father? How didft thou know 'twas he? oh, the deceives me Paft thought-What faid the to you? get more tapersRaife all my kindred-are 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 fee them act.
Are there not charms,
By which the property of youth and maidhood
Rod. Yes, Sir, I have, indeed.
Bru. 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, I may command at moft; get weapons, hoa! And raife fome fpecial officers of might: On, good Roderige, I'll deferve your pains.