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 damn'd in a fair wife;
That never set a squadron in the field,
Nor the division of a battle knows

More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,
Wherein the toged consuls can propose

As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practice,
Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election:
And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof
At Rhodes, at Cyprus and on other grounds
Christian and heathen, must be be-lee'd and calm'd
By debitor and creditor: this counter-caster,
He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,
And I-God bless the mark !-his Moorship's
ancient.

Rod. 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 second
Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself,

21. almost damn'd in a fair wife. The most plausible interpretation is almost married' to Bianca; the epithet indicating either the disreputableness of this match or Iago's scorn for marriage in general.

24. theoric, theory. 25. toged, wearing the toga of civil (as distinct from military)

authority.

25. consuls, councillors.
31.

counter-caster,

20

30

i.e. ' arithmetician'; he has been in the accounts branch'; a 'pen-and-ink soldier.' L.

32. in good time, 'forsooth'; here ironical, like à la bonne heure.'

Whether I in any just term am affined

To love the Moor.

Rod.

I would not follow him then.

Iago. O, sir, content you;

him :

I follow him to serve my turn upon
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,
cashier'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 lined
their coats

Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul;

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 demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
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 !

39. in any just term affined, related to him in such a way as to be bound.

40

50

60

50. visages, outward semblances.

66. owe, own.

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 colour.

Rod. Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud.
Iago. Do; with like timorous accent and dire yell
As when, by night and negligence, the fire
Is spied in populous cities.

Rod. What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio,
ho!

Iago. Awake! what, ho, Brabantio! thieves! thieves thieves !

70

Look to your house, your daughter and your bags! 80 Thieves thieves!

BRABANTIO appears above, at a window.

Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons? What is the matter there?

Rod. Signior, is all your family within ?

Iago. Are your doors lock'd?

Bra,

Why, wherefore ask you this?

Iago. 'Zounds, sir, you're robb'd; for shame,

put on your gown;

Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;
Even now, now, very now, an old black ram
Is 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.

Bra.

What, have you lost your wits?
Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know my

voice?

Bra. Not I: what are you?

90

Rod. My name is Roderigo.

Bra.

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

To start my quiet.

Rod. Sir, sir, sir,—

Bra.

But thou must needs be sure

My spirit and my place have in them power

To make this bitter to thee.

Rod.

Patience, good sir.

Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is

Venice;

My house is not a grange.

Rod.

Most grave Brabantio,

In simple and pure soul I come to you.

Iago. 'Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because

100

we come to do you service and you think we are 110 ruffians, you'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse; you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll have coursers for cousins and gennets for germans.

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.

Iago.

You are a senator.

Bra. This thou shalt answer; I know thee,

Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing.

seech you,

But, I be

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 guard
But with a knave of common hire, a góndolier,
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 me
We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe
That, 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 fortunes
In an extravagant and wheeling stranger

Of here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself:
If she be in her chamber or your house,

Let loose on me the justice 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 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 check,
Cannot with safety cast him, for he's embark'd

124. odd-even, the undefined time after midnight which may be called either 'late' or 'early.'

130

140

150

124. dull, slumberous.
132. from, in violation of.
137. extravagant, wandering.