Zounds, sir, you’re robbed
Zounds, sir, you're robbed. 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!
What, have you lost your wits?
Most reverend signior, do you know my voice?
Not I. What are you?
My name is Roderigo.
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 distemp'ring draughts,
Upon malicious bravery dost thou come
To start my quiet.
Sir, sir, sir—
But thou must needs be sure
My spirit and my place have in them power
To make this bitter to thee.
Patience, good sir.
What tell'st thou me of robbing?
This is Venice. My house is not a grange.
Most grave Brabantio,
In simple and pure soul I come to you—
Zounds, 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'll have
coursers for cousins and jennets for germans.
What profane wretch art thou?
I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter
and the Moor are now making the beast with
Thou art a villain.
You are a senator.