O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this:
O woeful day, O woeful day!

Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd,
By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!-

love! O life! not life, but love in death!

Cap. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!
Uncomfortable time! why cam'st thou now
To murder, murder our solemnity ?-

O child! O child !-my soul, and not my child !—
Dead art thou !-alack! my child is dead!
And, with my child, my joys are buried!

Fri. Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives
In these confusions. Heaven and yourself [not
Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all,
And all the better is it for the maid:
Your part in her you could not keep from death;
But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
The most you sought was her promotion;
For 't was your heaven, she should be advanc'd:
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd,
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
O, in this love, you love your child so ill,
That you run mad, seeing that she is well:
She's not well married that lives married long;
But she's best married that dies married young.
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
On this fair corse; and, as the custom is,
In all her best array bear her to church:
For though some nature bids us all lament,
Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.
Cap. All things that we ordained festival,
Turn from their office to black funeral:
Our instruments to melancholy bells;
Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change;
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
And all things change them to the contrary.
Fri. Sir, go you in,-and, madam, go with
And go, sir Paris;-every one prepare
To follow this fair corse unto her grave.
The heavens do low'r upon you, for some ill;
Move them no more, by crossing their high will.
[Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris, and Friar.
i Mus. 'Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be
gone.

Pet. O, I cry you mercy! you are the singer: I will say for you. It is-music with her silver sound, because musicians have no gold for sounding :Then music with her silver sound, With speedy help doth lend redress. [Exit, singing.

I Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same? 2 Mus. Hang him, Jack! Come, we 'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [Exeuni.

ACT V.

SCENE I.-Mantua. A Street.
Enter Romeo.

Rom. If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand :
My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne;
And, all this day, an unaccustom'd spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
I dreamt, my lady came and found me dead;
(Strange dream! that gives a dead man leave to
think,)

And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips,
That I reviv'd, and was an emperor.

Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd,
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy!

Enter Balthasar.

News from Verona !-How now, Balthasar?
Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?
How doth my lady? Is my father well?
How doth my lady Juliet? That I ask again;
For nothing can be ill, if she be well.
Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill.
Her body sleeps in Capels' monument,
And her immortal part with angels lives.
I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault,
And presently took post to tell it you:
O pardon me for bringing these ill news,
him;-Since you did leave it for my office, sir.

Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put up, For, well you know, this is a pitiful case. [Ex. Nur. 1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.

Enter Peter.

Pet. Musicians, O, musicians, Heart's ease, hearts ease; O, an you will have me live, play heart's ease. 1 Mus. Why heart's ease?

Rom. Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!-
Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper,
And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night.
Bal. I do beseech you, sir, have patience.
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import

Some misadventure.
Rom.

Tush, thou art deceiv'd;
Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?
Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do:
Bal. No, my good lord.

Rom.

No matter: get thee gone, And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight. [Exit Balthasar.

Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. Let's see for means:-0, mischief! thou art swift Pet. O, musicians, because my heart itself plays-To enter in the thoughts of desperate men! My heart is full: O, play me some merry dump, to comfort ine.

2 Mus. Not a dump we; 't is no time to play now. Pet. You will not then? Mus. No.

Pet. I will then give it you soundly. 1 Mus. What will you give us? Pet. No money, on my faith; but the gleek: I will give you the minstrel.

I Mus. Then will I give you the serving-creature. Pet. Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on your pate. I will carry no crochets: I'll re you, I'll fa you; Do you note me?

I do remember an apothecary,-
And hereabouts he dwells,-which late I noted
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of simples; meagre were his looks,
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones:
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
An alligator stuff'd, and other skins
Of ill-shap'd fishes; and about his shelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes,
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses,
Were thinly scatter'd to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself I said-
And if a man did need a poison now,
Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.
:-O, this same thought did but forerun my need;
And this same needy man must sell it me.
As I remember, this should be the house :
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.-
What, ho! apothecary!

I Mus. An you re us, and fa us, you note us. 2 Mus. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.

Pet. Then have at you with my wit; I will dry-beat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger Answer me like men:

When griping griefs the heart doth wound,
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
Then music, with her silver sound;
Why, silver sound? why music with her silver
What say you, Simon Catling?
[sound?
1 Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet
sound.

Pet. Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck?
2 Mus. I say-silver sound, because musicians
sound for silver.

Pet. Pretty too! What say you, James Sound-post?
3 Mus. 'Faith, I know not what to say.

Enter Apothecary.

Ap.
Who calls so loud?
Rom. Come hither, man.-I see that thou art poor
Hold, there is forty ducats; let me have
A dram of poison; such soon-speeding gear
As will disperse itself through all the veins,
That the life-weary taker may fall dead;
And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath
As violently as hasty powder fir'd

Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law Enter Romeo and Balthasar with a torch, mattock,

Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain,
To sunder his that was thine enemy?
Forgive me, cousin!-Ah, dear Juliet,
Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe
That unsubstantial death is amorous;
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?
For fear of that, I still will stay with thee;
And never from this palace of dim night
Depart again; here, here will I remain
With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here
Will I set up my everlasting rest;
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars [last!
From this world-wearied flesh.-Eyes, look your
Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, O you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!-
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
Here's to my love!-Drinks.] O, true apothecary;
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. [Dies.
Enter at the other end of the church-yard, Friar
Laurence with a lantern, crow, and spade.
Fri. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night
Have my old feet stumbled at graves!-Who's there?
Bal. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you
well.

Fri. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend,
What torch is yond', that vainly lends his light
To grubs and eyeless skulls; as I discern,
It burneth in the Capels' monument.

Bal. It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master,
One that you love.

Who is it?

Bal. Romeo.

Fri.
Fri. How long hath he been there?
Bal.

Full half an hour.

Fri. Go with me to the vault.
Bal.
I dare not, sir;
My master knows not but I am gone hence;
And fearfully did menace me with death,
If I did stay to look on his intents.

[me;

Fri. Stay then, I'll go alone:-Fear comes upon
O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.
Bal. As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,
I dreamt my master and another fought,
And that my master slew him.
Fri.
Romeo!-Advances.
Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulchre ?-
What mean these masterless and gory swords
To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?
[Enters the monument.
Romeo! O, pale !-Who else? what, Paris too?
And steep'd in blood?-Ah, what an unkind hour
Is guilty of this lamentable chance!-
The lady stirs.
[Juliet wakes and stirs.
Ful. O, comfortable friar! where is my lord?
I do remember well where I should be,
And there I am :-Where is my Romeo?

[Noise within.
Fri. I hear some noise.-Lady, come from that nest
Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep;
A greater Power than we can contradict
Hath thwarted our intents; come, come, away:
Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;
And Paris too; come, I'll dispose of thee
Among a sisterhood of holy nuns:
Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;
Come, go, good Juliet,-[Noise again] I dare no
longer stay.
[Exit.
Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.-
What's here? a cup, clos'd in my true love's hand?
Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end :-
O churl! drink all; and left no friendly drop,
To help me after?-I will kiss thy lips;
Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them,
To make me die with a restorative.
Thy lips are warm!

[Kisses him.

I Watch. [Within.] Lead, boy:-Which way!
Jul. Yea, noise?-then I'll be brief.-O happy
dagger! [Snatching Romeo's dagger.
This is thy sheath; [Stabs herself] there rust, and
let me die.
[Falls on Romeo's body, and dies.

Enter Watch, with the Page of Paris.

Page. This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn.

I Watch. The ground is bloody; Search about
the church-yard:

Go, some of you, whoe'er you find, attach.
[Exeunt some.

Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain;-
And Juliet bleeding; warm, and newly dead,
Go, tell the prince,-run to the Capulets,-
Who here hath lain these two days buried.
Raise up the Montagues,-some others search ;-
We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;
[Exeunt other Watchmen.
But the true ground of all these piteous woes,
We cannot without circumstance descry.

Enter some of the Watch, with Balthasar.
2 Watch. Here 's Romeo's man, we found him in
the church-yard.
[hither.
I Watch. Hold him in safety till the prince come
Enter another Watchman, with Friar Laurence.
3 Watch. Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs, and
As he was coming from this church-yard side.
We took this mattock and this spade from him,
I Watch. A great suspicion; Stay the friar too.)
Enter the Prince and Attendants.

weeps:

Prince. What misadventure is so early up,
That calls our person from our morning's rest?

Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and others.
Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?
La. Cap. The people in the streets cry-Romeo,
Some-Juliet, and some-Paris; and all run,
With open outcry, toward our monument. [ears!
Prince. What fear is this, which startles in your
I Watch. Sovereign, here lies the county Paris
And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before, [slain;
Warm and new kill'd.
[murder comes.
Prince. Search, seek, and know how this foul
I Watch. Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's
These dead men's tombs.
With instruments upon them, fit to open

[man;
[bleeds!
Cap. O, heaven 1-O, wife ! look how our daughter
This dagger hath mista'en,-for, lo! his house
Is empty on the back of Montague,
And is mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom.
La. Cap. O me! this sight of death is as a bell,
That warns my old age to a sepulchre.

Enter Montague and others.
Prince. Come, Montague; for thou art early up,
To see thy son and heir now early down.
Mon. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night;
Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath:
What further woe conspires against my age!
Prince. Look, and thou shalt see.

Mon. O thou untaught! what manners is in this,
To press before thy father to a grave?

Prince. Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,
Till we can clear these ambiguities,
And know their spring, their head, their true de-
And then will I be general of your woes, [scent;
And lead you even to death: Meantime forbear,
And let mischance be slave to patience.-
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.
Fri. I am the greatest, able to do least,
Yet most suspected, as the time and place
Doth make against me, of this direful murder;
And here I stand, both to impeach and purge
Myself condemned and myself excus'd. [in this.
Prince. Then say at once what thou dost know
Fri. I will be brief, for my short date of breath
Is not so long as is a tedious tale.
Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet,
And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife:
I married them; and their stolen marriage-day
Was Tybalt's doomsday, whose untimely death
Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this city;
You, to remove that siege of grief from her,
For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin'd.
Betroth'd and would have married her perforce
To county Paris:-Then comes she to me;
And, with wild looks, bid me devise some means
To rid her from this second marriage,

Or, in my cell there would she kill herself.
Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art,
A sleeping potion; which so took effect
As I intended, for it wrought on her

The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo,
That he should hither come as this dire night,
To help to take her from her borrow'd grave,
Being the time the potion's force should cease.]
But he which bore my letter, friar John,
Was stay'd by accident; and yesternight
Return'd my letter back: Then all alone,
At the prefixed hour of her waking,
Came I to take her from her kindred's vault;
Meaning to keep her closely at my cell,
Till I conveniently could send to Romeo:
But when I came (some minute ere the time
Of her awaking,) here untimely lay
The noble Paris, and true Romeo, dead.
She wakes; and I entreated her come forth,
And bear this work of heaven with patience:
But then a noise did scare me from the tomb;
And she, too desperate, would not go with me,
But (as it seems) did violence on herself.
All this I know; and to the marriage
Her nurse is privy: And, if aught in this
Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
Be sacrific'd, some hour before the time,
Unto the rigour of severest law.

Prince. Give me the letter, I will look on it.—
Where is the county's page, that rais'd the watch!-
Sirrah, what made your master in this place!
Page. He came with flowers to strew his lady'

grave;

And bid me stand aloof, and so I did:
Anon, comes one with light to ope the tomb;
And, by and by, my master drew on him;
And then I ran away to call the watch.

Prince. This letter doth make good the friar's words,
Their course of love, the tidings of her death;
And here he writes-that he did buy a poison
Of a poor pothecary, and therewithal
Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet.
Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!-
See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love i
And I, for winking at your discords too,
Have lost a brace of kinsmen :-all are punish'd.
Cap. O, brother Montague, give me thy hand.
This is my daughter's jointure, for no more
Can I demand.

Mon.
But I can give thee more:
For I will raise her statue in pure gold;
That whiles Verona by that name is known,
There shall no figure at that rate be set,
As that of true and faithful Juliet.

Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie;

Prince. We still have known thee for a holy man.-Poor sacrifices of our enmity !

Where's Romeo's man? what can he say to this?
Bal. I brought my master news of Juliet's death;
And then in post he came from Mantua,
To this same place, to this same monument.
This letter he early bid me give his father;

And threaten'd me with death, going in the vault,
If I departed not, and left him there.

Prince. A glooming peace this morning with it

brings;

The sun for sorrow will not show his head:
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:
For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

[Exeunt.

OTHELLO.

DUKE OF VENICE.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.
IAGO, his ancient.

EMILIA, wife to lago.

BRABANTIO, a senator; father RODERIGO, a Venetian gentle- BIANCA, a courtezan.

to Desdemona.

Two other senators.

GRATIANO, brother to Brabantio. LODOVICO, kinsman to Brabantio.

OTHELLO, the Moor.

CASSIO, his lieutenant.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-Venice. A Street.
Enter Roderigo and Iago.

Rod. Never tell me; I take it much unkindly
That thou, lago, who hast had my purse
As if the strings were thine, should'st know of this.
lago. But you ll not hear me. If ever I did dream
Of such a matter, abhor me.
[hate.
Rod. Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him in thy
lago. 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:
But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,
Evades them; with a bombast circumstance,
Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war,
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

Officers, Gentlemen, Messengers,
Musicians, Sailors, Attend-
ants, &c.

SCENE.-For the First Act in
VENICE; during the rest of the
Play at a sea-port in CYPRUS

Wherein the tongued 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
Christen'd 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,--bless the mark! his Moor-ship's ancient.
Rod. By heaven, I rather would have been his
hangman.

Iago. Why, there's no remedy, 't is 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,
Whether I in any just term am affin'd

To love the Moor.

Rod.
I would not follow him then,
lago. 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,
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,

More than a spinster; unless the bookish theorick, 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 lin'd
their coats,
[soul;
Do themselves homage: these fellows have some
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 complement extern, 't is not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

Call up her father,

Rod. Sir, I will answer anything. But I beseech
If 't be your pleasure and most wise consent, [you,
(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 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;
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 everywhere: Straight satisfy yourself:
If she be in her chamber, or your house,
Let loose on me the justice of the state

Rod. What a fall Fortune does the Thicklips owe, [For thus deluding you.
If he can carry 't thus!
lago.
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 chances of vexation on 't,
As it may lose some colour.

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

[hoa! Rod. What, hoa! Brabantio! signior Brabantio, Iago. Awake; what, hoa! Brabantio! thieves! thieves!

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

Brabantio, above.

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

Rod. Signior, is all your family within?
Jago. Are your doors lock'd?
Bra.

Why? wherefore ask you this? Iago. Sir, you are 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
Bra. Not I; what are you?
[voice?
Rod. My name is Roderigo.
Bra.
The worser welcome:
I have charg'd 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 knavery, 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 their power
To make this bitter to thee.
Rod.

Patience, good sir.

Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is
My house is not a grange.
[Venice;
Rod.
Most grave Brabantio,
In simple and pure soul I come to you.
lago. Sir, you are one of those that will not serve
God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to do
you service, and you think we are ruffians, you'll
have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse:
you'll have your nephews neigh to you: you 'li
have coursers for cousins, and gennets for germans.
Bra. What profane wretch art thou?

Bra.
Strike on the tinder, hoa!
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 from above.
Iago.
Farewell; for I must leave you:
It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,
To be produc'd (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
With such loud reason to the Cyprus' wars,
(Which even now stand in act,) that for their souls,
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,
Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find
Lead to the Sagittary the raised search; [him,
And there will I be with him. So, farewell. [Exit.
Enter, below, Brabantio, and Servants, with
torches.

Bra. It is too true an evil: gone she is ;
And what 's to come of my despised time
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?-

[me

How didst thou know 't was she?-O, she deceives
Past thought!-What said she to you?-Get more
tapers;

Raise all my kindred.-Are they married, think
Rod. Truly, I think they are.
[you?
Bra. O heaven!-How got she out?-O treason of
the blood!-

Fathers, from hence trust 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, Roderigo,
Of some such thing?

Rod.
Yes, sir; I have indeed.
Bra. Call up my brother.-Ó, would you had had
her!-

Some one way, some 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 house I'll call;
I may command at most;-Get weapons, hoa!
And raise some special officers of night.-
On, good Roderigo. I will deserve your pains..
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The same. Another Street. Enter Othello, Iago, and Attendants with torches. Iago. Though in the trade of war I have slain men, Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience, To do no contriv'd murder: I lack iniquity Sometime to do me service: Nine or ten times I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the Oth. 'T is better as it is. [ribs. lago, lago. Nay, but he prated, Bra. This thou shalt answer. I know thee, Roderigo. And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms

lago. I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are making the beast with two backs.

Bra. Thou art a villain.

You are a senator.