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twg_000000023800 | over to my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my masters false accusation; and, briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain. DON PEDRO. Runs not this speech like iron through your blood? CLAUDIO. I have drunk poison whiles he utterd it. DON PEDRO. But did my brother set thee on to this? BORACHIO. Yea; and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023801 | paid me richly for the practice of it. DON PEDRO. He is composd and framd of treachery: And fled he is upon this villainy. CLAUDIO. Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I lovd it first. DOGBERRY. Come, bring away the plaintiffs: by this time our sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter. And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023802 | masters, do not forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass. VERGES. Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too. Re-enter Leonato, Antonio and the Sexton. LEONATO. Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes, That, when I note another man like him, I may avoid him. Which of these is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023803 | he? BORACHIO. If you would know your wronger, look on me. LEONATO. Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast killd Mine innocent child? BORACHIO. Yea, even I alone. LEONATO. No, not so, villain; thou beliest thyself: Here stand a pair of honourable men; A third is fled, that had a hand in it. I thank you, princes, for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023804 | my daughters death: Record it with your high and worthy deeds. Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. CLAUDIO. I know not how to pray your patience; Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself; Impose me to what penance your invention Can lay upon my sin: yet sinnd I not But in mistaking. DON PEDRO. By my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023805 | soul, nor I: And yet, to satisfy this good old man, I would bend under any heavy weight That hell enjoin me to. LEONATO. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live; That were impossible; but, I pray you both, Possess the people in Messina here How innocent she died; and if your love Can labour aught in sad invention, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023806 | Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb, And sing it to her bones: sing it tonight. Tomorrow morning come you to my house, And since you could not be my son-in-law, Be yet my nephew. My brother hath a daughter, Almost the copy of my child thats dead, And she alone is heir to both of us: Give her the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023807 | right you should have given her cousin, And so dies my revenge. CLAUDIO. O noble sir, Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me! I do embrace your offer; and dispose For henceforth of poor Claudio. LEONATO. Tomorrow then I will expect your coming; Tonight I take my leave. This naughty man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023808 | I believe, was packd in all this wrong, Hird to it by your brother. BORACHIO. No, by my soul she was not; Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me; But always hath been just and virtuous In anything that I do know by her. DOGBERRY. Moreover, sir,which, indeed, is not under white and black, this plaintiff | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023809 | here, the offender, did call me ass: I beseech you, let it be remembered in his punishment. And also, the watch heard them talk of one Deformed: they say he wears a key in his ear and a lock hanging by it, and borrows money in Gods name, the which he hath used so long and never paid, that now | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023810 | men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for Gods sake. Pray you, examine him upon that point. LEONATO. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. DOGBERRY. Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverent youth, and I praise God for you. LEONATO. Theres for thy pains. DOGBERRY. God save the foundation! LEONATO. Go, I discharge thee of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023811 | thy prisoner, and I thank thee. DOGBERRY. I leave an arrant knave with your worship; which I beseech your worship to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your worship! I wish your worship well; God restore you to health! I humbly give you leave to depart, and if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohibit it! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023812 | Come, neighbour. [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges.] LEONATO. Until tomorrow morning, lords, farewell. ANTONIO. Farewell, my lords: we look for you tomorrow. DON PEDRO. We will not fail. CLAUDIO. Tonight Ill mourn with Hero. [Exeunt Don Pedro and Claudio.] LEONATO. [To the Watch.] Bring you these fellows on. Well talk with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. [Exeunt.] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023813 | SCENE II. Leonatos Garden. Enter Benedick and Margaret, meeting. BENEDICK. Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. MARGARET. Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty? BENEDICK. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for, in most comely | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023814 | truth, thou deservest it. MARGARET. To have no man come over me! why, shall I always keep below stairs? BENEDICK. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhounds mouth; it catches. MARGARET. And yours as blunt as the fencers foils, which hit, but hurt not. BENEDICK. A most manly wit, Margaret; it will not hurt a woman: and so, I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023815 | pray thee, call Beatrice. I give thee the bucklers. MARGARET. Give us the swords, we have bucklers of our own. BENEDICK. If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice; and they are dangerous weapons for maids. MARGARET. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs. BENEDICK. And therefore will come. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023816 | [Exit Margaret.] The god of love, That sits above, And knows me, and knows me, How pitiful I deserve, I mean, in singing: but in loving, Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, why, they | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023817 | were never so truly turned over and over as my poor self in love. Marry, I cannot show it in rime; I have tried: I can find out no rime to lady but baby, an innocent rime; for scorn, horn, a hard rime; for school, fool, a babbling rime; very ominous endings: no, I was not born under a riming | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023818 | planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms. Enter Beatrice. Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee? BEATRICE. Yea, signior; and depart when you bid me. BENEDICK. O, stay but till then! BEATRICE. Then is spoken; fare you well now: and yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came for; which is, with knowing what | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023819 | hath passed between you and Claudio. BENEDICK. Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee. BEATRICE. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed. BENEDICK. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit. But I must tell | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023820 | thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge, and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? BEATRICE. For them all together; which maintained so politic a state of evil that they will not admit | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023821 | any good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me? BENEDICK. Suffer love, a good epithet! I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will. BEATRICE. In spite of your heart, I think. Alas, poor heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023822 | it for yours; for I will never love that which my friend hates. BENEDICK. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. BEATRICE. It appears not in this confession: theres not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself. BENEDICK. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the time of good neighbours. If a man do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023823 | not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument than the bell rings and the widow weeps. BEATRICE. And how long is that think you? BENEDICK. Question: why, an hour in clamour and a quarter in rheum: therefore is it most expedient for the wise,if Don Worm, his conscience, find no | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023824 | impediment to the contrary,to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy. And now tell me, how doth your cousin? BEATRICE. Very ill. BENEDICK. And how do you? BEATRICE. Very ill too. BENEDICK. Serve God, love me, and mend. There will I leave | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023825 | you too, for here comes one in haste. Enter Ursula. URSULA. Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonders old coil at home: it is proved, my Lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the Prince and Claudio mightily abused; and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone. Will you come presently? BEATRICE. Will you go | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023826 | hear this news, signior? BENEDICK. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes; and moreover I will go with thee to thy uncles. [Exeunt.] SCENE III. The Inside of a Church. Enter Don Pedro, Claudio and Attendants, with music and tapers. CLAUDIO. Is this the monument of Leonato? A LORD. It is, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023827 | my lord. CLAUDIO. [Reads from a scroll.] Epitaph. Done to death by slanderous tongues Was the Hero that here lies: Death, in guerdon of her wrongs, Gives her fame which never dies. So the life that died with shame Lives in death with glorious fame. Hang thou there upon the tomb, Praising her when I am dumb. Now, music, sound, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023828 | and sing your solemn hymn. Song. Pardon, goddess of the night, Those that slew thy virgin knight; For the which, with songs of woe, Round about her tomb they go. Midnight, assist our moan; Help us to sigh and groan, Heavily, heavily: Graves, yawn and yield your dead, Till death be uttered, Heavily, heavily. CLAUDIO. Now, unto thy bones good | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023829 | night! Yearly will I do this rite. DON PEDRO. Good morrow, masters: put your torches out. The wolves have preyd; and look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsy East with spots of grey. Thanks to you all, and leave us: fare you well. CLAUDIO. Good morrow, masters: each his several way. DON PEDRO. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023830 | Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds; And then to Leonatos we will go. CLAUDIO. And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds, Than this for whom we rendred up this woe! [Exeunt.] SCENE IV. A Room in Leonatos House. Enter Leonato, Antonio, Benedick, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula, Friar Francis and Hero. FRIAR. Did I not tell you she was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023831 | innocent? LEONATO. So are the Prince and Claudio, who accusd her Upon the error that you heard debated: But Margaret was in some fault for this, Although against her will, as it appears In the true course of all the question. ANTONIO. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. BENEDICK. And so am I, being else by | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023832 | faith enforcd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. LEONATO. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, And when I send for you, come hither maskd: The Prince and Claudio promisd by this hour To visit me. [Exeunt Ladies.] You know your office, brother; You must be father to your brothers daughter, And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023833 | give her to young Claudio. ANTONIO. Which I will do with confirmd countenance. BENEDICK. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. FRIAR. To do what, signior? BENEDICK. To bind me, or undo me; one of them. Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. LEONATO. That eye my daughter lent her. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023834 | Tis most true. BENEDICK. And I do with an eye of love requite her. LEONATO. The sight whereof I think, you had from me, From Claudio, and the Prince. But whats your will? BENEDICK. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical: But, for my will, my will is your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conjoind In the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023835 | state of honourable marriage: In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. LEONATO. My heart is with your liking. FRIAR. And my help. Here comes the Prince and Claudio. Enter Don Pedro and Claudio, with Attendants. DON PEDRO. Good morrow to this fair assembly. LEONATO. Good morrow, Prince; good morrow, Claudio: We here attend you. Are you yet determind | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023836 | Today to marry with my brothers daughter? CLAUDIO. Ill hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. LEONATO. Call her forth, brother: heres the friar ready. [Exit Antonio.] DON PEDRO. Good morrow, Benedick. Why, whats the matter, That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness? CLAUDIO. I think he thinks upon the savage bull. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023837 | Tush! fear not, man, well tip thy horns with gold, And all Europa shall rejoice at thee, As once Europa did at lusty Jove, When he would play the noble beast in love. BENEDICK. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low: And some such strange bull leapd your fathers cow, And got a calf in that same noble feat, Much | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023838 | like to you, for you have just his bleat. CLAUDIO. For this I owe you: here comes other reckonings. Re-enter Antonio, with the ladies masked. Which is the lady I must seize upon? ANTONIO. This same is she, and I do give you her. CLAUDIO. Why then, shes mine. Sweet, let me see your face. LEONATO. No, that you shall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023839 | not, till you take her hand Before this friar, and swear to marry her. CLAUDIO. Give me your hand: before this holy friar, I am your husband, if you like of me. HERO. And when I livd, I was your other wife: [Unmasking.] And when you lovd, you were my other husband. CLAUDIO. Another Hero! HERO. Nothing certainer: One Hero | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023840 | died defild, but I do live, And surely as I live, I am a maid. DON PEDRO. The former Hero! Hero that is dead! LEONATO. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander livd. FRIAR. All this amazement can I qualify: When after that the holy rites are ended, Ill tell you largely of fair Heros death: Meantime, let wonder | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023841 | seem familiar, And to the chapel let us presently. BENEDICK. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice? BEATRICE. [Unmasking.] I answer to that name. What is your will? BENEDICK. Do not you love me? BEATRICE. Why, no; no more than reason. BENEDICK. Why, then, your uncle and the Prince and Claudio Have been deceived; for they swore you did. BEATRICE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023842 | Do not you love me? BENEDICK. Troth, no; no more than reason. BEATRICE. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula, Are much deceivd; for they did swear you did. BENEDICK. They swore that you were almost sick for me. BEATRICE. They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me. BENEDICK. Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023843 | BEATRICE. No, truly, but in friendly recompense. LEONATO. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. CLAUDIO. And Ill be sworn upon t that he loves her; For heres a paper written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashiond to Beatrice. HERO. And heres another, Writ in my cousins hand, stolen from her pocket, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023844 | Containing her affection unto Benedick. BENEDICK. A miracle! heres our own hands against our hearts. Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity. BEATRICE. I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023845 | BENEDICK. Peace! I will stop your mouth. [Kisses her.] DON PEDRO. How dost thou, Benedick, the married man? BENEDICK. Ill tell thee what, Prince; a college of witcrackers cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No; if man will be beaten with brains, a shall wear nothing handsome about | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023846 | him. In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it, for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but, in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023847 | that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin. CLAUDIO. I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double-dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. BENEDICK. Come, come, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023848 | we are friends. Lets have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives heels. LEONATO. Well have dancing afterward. BENEDICK. First, of my word; therefore play, music! Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife: there is no staff more reverent than one tipped with horn. Enter Messenger. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023849 | MESSENGER. My lord, your brother John is taen in flight, And brought with armed men back to Messina. BENEDICK. Think not on him till tomorrow: Ill devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, pipers! [Dance. Exeunt.] THE TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE Contents ACT I Scene I. Venice. A street. Scene II. Venice. Another street. Scene III. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023850 | Venice. A council chamber. ACT II Scene I. A seaport in Cyprus. A Platform. Scene II. A street. Scene III. A Hall in the Castle. ACT III Scene I. Cyprus. Before the Castle. Scene II. Cyprus. A Room in the Castle. Scene III. Cyprus. The Garden of the Castle. Scene IV. Cyprus. Before the Castle. ACT IV Scene I. Cyprus. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023851 | Before the Castle. Scene II. Cyprus. A Room in the Castle. Scene III. Cyprus. Another Room in the Castle. ACT V Scene I. Cyprus. A Street. Scene II. Cyprus. A Bedchamber in the castle. Dramatis Person DUKE OF VENICE BRABANTIO, a Senator of Venice and Desdemonas father Other Senators GRATIANO, Brother to Brabantio LODOVICO, Kinsman to Brabantio OTHELLO, a noble | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023852 | Moor in the service of Venice CASSIO, his Lieutenant IAGO, his Ancient MONTANO, Othellos predecessor in the government of Cyprus RODERIGO, a Venetian Gentleman CLOWN, Servant to Othello DESDEMONA, Daughter to Brabantio and Wife to Othello EMILIA, Wife to Iago BIANCA, Mistress to Cassio Officers, Gentlemen, Messenger, Musicians, Herald, Sailor, Attendants, &c. SCENE: The First Act in Venice; during the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023853 | rest of the Play at a Seaport in Cyprus. ACT I SCENE I. Venice. A street. Enter Roderigo and Iago. RODERIGO. Tush, never tell me, I take it much unkindly That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse, As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this. IAGO. Sblood, but you will not hear me. If ever I did | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023854 | dream of such a matter, Abhor me. RODERIGO. Thou toldst me, thou didst hold him in thy hate. IAGO. Despise me if I do not. Three great ones of the city, In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, Off-cappd to him; and by the faith of man, I know my price, I am worth no worse a place. But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023855 | he, as loving his own pride and purposes, Evades them, with a bombast circumstance, Horribly stuffd 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 damnd in a fair wife, That never set | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023856 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023857 | other grounds, Christian and heathen, must be beleed and calmd By debitor and creditor, this counter-caster, He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, And I, God bless the mark, his Moorships ancient. RODERIGO. By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman. IAGO. Why, theres no remedy. Tis the curse of service, Preferment goes by letter and affection, And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023858 | not by old gradation, where each second Stood heir to the first. Now sir, be judge yourself Whether I in any just term am affind To love the Moor. RODERIGO. I would not follow him, then. IAGO. O, sir, content you. I follow him to serve my turn upon him: We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023859 | truly followd. You shall mark Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, Wears out his time, much like his masters ass, For nought but provender, and when hes old, cashierd. Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are Who, trimmd in forms, and visages of duty, Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves, And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023860 | throwing but shows of service on their lords, Do well thrive by them, and when they have lind 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023861 | 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, tis not long after But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023862 | am. RODERIGO. What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe, If he can carryt thus! 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023863 | ont, As it may lose some color. RODERIGO. Here is her fathers house, Ill call aloud. IAGO. Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell As when, by night and negligence, the fire Is spied in populous cities. RODERIGO. What ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho! IAGO. Awake! what ho, Brabantio! Thieves, thieves! Look to your house, your daughter, and your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023864 | bags! Thieves, thieves! Brabantio appears above at a window. BRABANTIO. What is the reason of this terrible summons? What is the matter there? RODERIGO. Signior, is all your family within? IAGO. Are your doors locked? BRABANTIO. Why, wherefore ask you this? IAGO. Zounds, sir, youre robbd, for shame put on your gown, Your heart is burst, you have lost half | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023865 | 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. BRABANTIO. What, have you lost your wits? RODERIGO. Most reverend signior, do you know my voice? BRABANTIO. Not I. What are you? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023866 | RODERIGO. My name is Roderigo. BRABANTIO. The worser welcome. I have chargd 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. RODERIGO. Sir, sir, sir, BRABANTIO. But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023867 | thou must needs be sure My spirit and my place have in them power To make this bitter to thee. RODERIGO. Patience, good sir. BRABANTIO. What tellst thou me of robbing? This is Venice. My house is not a grange. RODERIGO. Most grave Brabantio, In simple and pure soul I come to you. IAGO. Zounds, sir, you are one of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023868 | those that will not serve God if the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service, and you think we are ruffians, youll have your daughter coverd with a Barbary horse; youll have your nephews neigh to you; youll have coursers for cousins and gennets for germans. BRABANTIO. What profane wretch art thou? IAGO. I am one, sir, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023869 | that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs. BRABANTIO. Thou art a villain. IAGO. You are a senator. BRABANTIO. This thou shalt answer. I know thee, Roderigo. RODERIGO. Sir, I will answer anything. But I beseech you, If t be your pleasure, and most wise consent, (As partly I find | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023870 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023871 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023872 | 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 For thus deluding you. BRABANTIO. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023873 | say, light! [_Exit from above._] IAGO. Farewell; for I must leave you: It seems not meet nor wholesome to my place To be producd, 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 hes embarkd With such loud reason to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023874 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023875 | shall surely find him, Lead to the Sagittary the raised search, And there will I be with him. So, farewell. [_Exit._] Enter Brabantio with Servants and torches. BRABANTIO. It is too true an evil. Gone she is, And whats to come of my despised time, Is naught but bitterness. Now Roderigo, Where didst thou see her? (O unhappy girl!) With | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023876 | the Moor, sayst 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, Raise all my kindred. Are they married, think you? RODERIGO. Truly I think they are. BRABANTIO. O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood! Fathers, from hence trust | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023877 | not your daughters minds By what you see them act. Is there not charms By which the property of youth and maidhood May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo, Of some such thing? RODERIGO. Yes, sir, I have indeed. BRABANTIO. Call up my brother. O, would you had had her! Some one way, some another. Do you know Where | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023878 | we may apprehend her and the Moor? RODERIGO. I think I can discover him, if you please To get good guard, and go along with me. BRABANTIO. Pray you lead on. At every house Ill call, I may command at most. Get weapons, ho! And raise some special officers of night. On, good Roderigo. I will deserve your pains. [_Exeunt._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023879 | SCENE II. Venice. 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 contrivd murder; I lack iniquity Sometimes to do me service: nine or ten times I had thought to have yerkd him here under the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023880 | ribs. OTHELLO. Tis better as it is. IAGO. Nay, but he prated, And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms Against your honour, That with the little godliness I have, I did full hard forbear him. But I pray you, sir, Are you fast married? Be assurd of this, That the magnifico is much belovd And hath in his effect a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023881 | voice potential As double as the dukes; he will divorce you, Or put upon you what restraint and grievance The law (with all his might to enforce it on) Will give him cable. OTHELLO. Let him do his spite; My services, which I have done the signiory, Shall out-tongue his complaints. Tis yet to know, Which, when I know that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023882 | boasting is an honour, I shall promulgate,I fetch my life and being From men of royal siege. And my demerits May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune As this that I have reachd. For know, Iago, But that I love the gentle Desdemona, I would not my unhoused free condition Put into circumscription and confine For the seas worth. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023883 | But look, what lights come yond? IAGO. Those are the raised father and his friends: You were best go in. OTHELLO. Not I; I must be found. My parts, my title, and my perfect soul Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they? IAGO. By Janus, I think no. Enter Cassio and Officers with torches. OTHELLO. The servants of the duke | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023884 | and my lieutenant. The goodness of the night upon you, friends! What is the news? CASSIO. The duke does greet you, general, And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance Even on the instant. OTHELLO. What is the matter, think you? CASSIO. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine. It is a business of some heat. The galleys Have sent a dozen | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023885 | sequent messengers This very night at one anothers heels; And many of the consuls, raisd and met, Are at the dukes already. You have been hotly calld for, When, being not at your lodging to be found, The senate hath sent about three several quests To search you out. OTHELLO. Tis well I am found by you. I will but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023886 | spend a word here in the house, And go with you. [_Exit._] CASSIO. Ancient, what makes he here? IAGO. Faith, he tonight hath boarded a land carrack: If it prove lawful prize, hes made forever. CASSIO. I do not understand. IAGO. Hes married. CASSIO. To who? Enter Othello. IAGO. Marry toCome, captain, will you go? OTHELLO. Have with you. CASSIO. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023887 | Here comes another troop to seek for you. Enter Brabantio, Roderigo and Officers with torches and weapons. IAGO. It is Brabantio. General, be advisd, He comes to bad intent. OTHELLO. Holla, stand there! RODERIGO. Signior, it is the Moor. BRABANTIO. Down with him, thief! [_They draw on both sides._] IAGO. You, Roderigo! Come, sir, I am for you. OTHELLO. Keep | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023888 | up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them. Good signior, you shall more command with years Than with your weapons. BRABANTIO. O thou foul thief, where hast thou stowd my daughter? Damnd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her, For Ill refer me to all things of sense, (If she in chains of magic were not bound) Whether | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023889 | a maid so tender, fair, and happy, So opposite to marriage, that she shunnd The wealthy curled darlings of our nation, Would ever have, to incur a general mock, Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom Of such a thing as thouto fear, not to delight. Judge me the world, if tis not gross in sense, That thou hast | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023890 | practisd on her with foul charms, Abusd her delicate youth with drugs or minerals That weakens motion. Ill havet disputed on; Tis probable, and palpable to thinking. I therefore apprehend and do attach thee For an abuser of the world, a practiser Of arts inhibited and out of warrant. Lay hold upon him, if he do resist, Subdue him at | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023891 | his peril. OTHELLO. Hold your hands, Both you of my inclining and the rest: Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it Without a prompter. Where will you that I go To answer this your charge? BRABANTIO. To prison, till fit time Of law and course of direct session Call thee to answer. OTHELLO. What if I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023892 | do obey? How may the duke be therewith satisfied, Whose messengers are here about my side, Upon some present business of the state, To bring me to him? OFFICER. Tis true, most worthy signior, The dukes in council, and your noble self, I am sure is sent for. BRABANTIO. How? The duke in council? In this time of the night? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023893 | Bring him away; Mines not an idle cause. The duke himself, Or any of my brothers of the state, Cannot but feel this wrong as twere their own. For if such actions may have passage free, Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Venice. A council chamber. The Duke and Senators sitting at a table; Officers attending. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023894 | DUKE. There is no composition in these news That gives them credit. FIRST SENATOR. Indeed, they are disproportiond; My letters say a hundred and seven galleys. DUKE. And mine a hundred and forty. SECOND SENATOR And mine two hundred: But though they jump not on a just account, (As in these cases, where the aim reports, Tis oft with difference,) | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023895 | yet do they all confirm A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus. DUKE. Nay, it is possible enough to judgement: I do not so secure me in the error, But the main article I do approve In fearful sense. SAILOR. [_Within._] What, ho! what, ho! what, ho! OFFICER. A messenger from the galleys. Enter Sailor. DUKE. Now,whats the business? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023896 | SAILOR. The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes, So was I bid report here to the state By Signior Angelo. DUKE. How say you by this change? FIRST SENATOR. This cannot be By no assay of reason. Tis a pageant To keep us in false gaze. When we consider The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk; And let ourselves again but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023897 | understand That, as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes, So may he with more facile question bear it, For that it stands not in such warlike brace, But altogether lacks the abilities That Rhodes is dressd in. If we make thought of this, We must not think the Turk is so unskilful To leave that latest which concerns him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023898 | first, Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain, To wake and wage a danger profitless. DUKE. Nay, in all confidence, hes not for Rhodes. OFFICER. Here is more news. Enter a Messenger. MESSENGER. The Ottomites, reverend and gracious, Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes, Have there injointed them with an after fleet. FIRST SENATOR. Ay, so I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000023899 | thought. How many, as you guess? MESSENGER. Of thirty sail, and now they do re-stem Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano, Your trusty and most valiant servitor, With his free duty recommends you thus, And prays you to believe him. DUKE. Tis certain, then, for Cyprus. Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town? | 60 | gutenberg |
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