IAGO | |
Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city, | |
| | In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, | |
| | Off-capp'd to him: and, by the faith of man, | |
| | I know my price, I am worth no worse a place: | 10 |
| | But he; as loving his own pride and purposes, | |
| | Evades them, with a bombast circumstance | |
| | Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war; | |
| | And, in conclusion, | |
| | Nonsuits my mediators; for, 'Certes,' says he, | 15 |
| | '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; | 20 |
| | 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 practise, | 25 |
| | 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, | 30 |
| | He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, | |
| | And I--God bless the mark!--his Moorship's ancient. | |
IAGO | |
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, | 45 |
| | 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, | 50 |
| | 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; | 55 |
| | 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, | 60 |
| | 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 | 65 |
| | For daws to peck at: I am not what I am. | |
IAGO | |
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. | 75 |
IAGO | |
'Zounds, sir, you're robb'd; for shame, put on | |
| | your gown; | 90 |
| | Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul; | |
| | Even now, now, very now, an old black ram | |
| | Is topping your white ewe. Arise, arise; | |
| | Awake the snorting citizens with the bell, | |
| | Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you: | 95 |
| | Arise, I say. | |
RODERIGO | |
Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you, | |
| | 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, | 130 |
| | Transported, with no worse nor better guard | |
| | But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier, | |
| | 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; | 135 |
| | 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, | 140 |
| | 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, | 145 |
| | Let loose on me the justice of the state | |
| | For thus deluding you. | |
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-- | 155 |
| | Against the Moor: for, I do know, the state, | |
| | However this may gall him with some cheque, | |
| | Cannot with safety cast him, for he's embark'd | |
| | With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars, | |
| | Which even now stand in act, that, for their souls, | 160 |
| | Another of his fathom they have none, | |
| | To lead their business: in which regard, | |
| | Though I do hate him as I do hell-pains. | |
| | Yet, for necessity of present life, | |
| | I must show out a flag and sign of love, | 165 |
| | Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him, | |
| | Lead to the Sagittary the raised search; | |
| | And there will I be with him. So, farewell. | |
| | [Exit] |
| | [Enter, below, BRABANTIO, and Servants with torches] |
BRABANTIO | |
It is too true an evil: gone she is; | |
| | And what's to come of my despised time | 170 |
| | Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo, | |
| | Where didst thou see her? O unhappy girl! | |
| | With the Moor, say'st thou? Who would be a father! | |
| | How didst thou know 'twas she? O she deceives me | |
| | Past thought! What said she to you? Get more tapers: | 175 |
| | Raise all my kindred. Are they married, think you? | |
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