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Wake up, Brabantio! Wake up! Thieves! Thieves! Check on your daughter, your house, your money! Thieves! Thieves!
What’s the reason for this horrible shouting? What’s the matter?
Sir, you daughter is out marrying a black man and if you do not hurry, you shall have black grandchildren.
Roderigo, I have told you once already that my daughter will not marry you. Now why do you come here and make trouble.
Sir, your daughter has truly left in the middle of the night and married the Moor.
I have dreamed this before. I am beginning to believe it may be true.
Give me light so I can see if this is true.
I must leave. It would be dangerous for me to be seen working against the Moor.
It’s true. She’s gone. The rest of my life will be nothing but bitterness. Lead the way. I’ll stop at every house. I’m respected enough that most of them will do what I say.—Get your weapons! And get the officers who guard the city at night.—Let’s go, Roderigo. I’ll reward you for your troubles.
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