THE TRAGEDIE OF

Othello, the Moore of Venice.

Actus Primus. Scana Prima.

Enter Rodorigo, and Iago.

Rodorigo.

'Ever tell me, I take it much unkindly

That thou (Iago) who hast had my purse,

As if the strings were thine, should'st know of this.
Ia. But you'l not heare me. If ever I did dream

Of such a matter, abhorre me.

Rodo.

Thou did'st hold him in thy hate.

Iago.

Thou told'st me,

Despise me
If I do not. Three Great-ones of the Cittie,
(In personall suite to make me his Lieutenant)
Off-capt to him and by the faith of man

I know my price, I am worth no worsse a place.
But he (as loving his owne pride, and purposes)
Evades them, with a bumbast Circumstance,
Horribly stufft with Epithites of warre,

Non-suites my Mediators. For certes, saies he,

I have already chose my Officer. And what was he?
For-sooth, a great Arithmatician,

One Michaell Cassio, a Florentine,

(A Fellow almost damn'd in a faire Wife)

That never set a Squadron in the Field,

Nor the division of a Battaile knowes

More then a Spinster. Unlesse the Bookish Theoricke:
Wherein the Tongued Consuls can propose

As Masterly as he. Meere pratle (without practise)
Is all his Souldiership. But he (Sir) had th'election;
And I (of whom his eies had seene the proofe
At Rhodes, at Ciprus, and on others grounds
Christen'd, and Heathen) must be be-leed, and calm'd
By Debitor, and Creditor. This Counter-caster,
He (in good time) must his Lieutenant be,

And I (blesse the marke) his Mooreships Auntient.
Rod. By heaven, I rather would have bin his hangman.
Iago. Why, there's no remedie.

'Tis the cursse of Service;

Preferment goes by Letter, and affection,

And not by old gradation, where each second

Stood Heire to'th'first. Now Sir, be judge your selfe,
Whether I in any just terme am Affin'd

To love the Moore ?

Rod.

I would not follow him then.

Iago. O Sir content you.

I follow him to serve my turne upon him.
We cannot all be Masters, nor all Masters
Cannot be truely follow'd. You shall marke
Many a dutious and knee-crooking knave;
That (doting on his owne obsequious bondage)
Weares out his time, much like his Masters Asse,
For naught but Provender, & when he's old Casheer'd.
Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are
Who trym'd in Formes, and visages of Dutie,
Keepe yet their hearts attending on themselves,
And throwing but showes of Service on their Lords
Doe well thrive by them.

And when they have lin'd their Coates