Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom
Of such a thing as thou, to fear, not to delight.
Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense
That thou hast practised on her with foul charms,
Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals
That weaken motion: I'll have't 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 his peril.

Oth.

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?

Bra.

To prison, till fit time

Of law and course of direct session

Call thee to answer.

What if I do obey?

Oth.
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?

First Off

'Tis true, most worthy signior;
The duke's in council, and your noble self,
I am sure, is sent for.

Bra.
In this time of the night! Bring him away:
Mine's not an idle cause: the duke himself,
Or any of my brothers of the state,

How! the duke in council!

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.

SCENE III A council-chamber.

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[Exeunt

The DUKE and Senators sitting at a table; Officers attending

Duke. There is no composition in these news

That gives them credit.

First Sen. Indeed, they are disproportion'd;

My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.
Duke. And mine, a hundred and forty.
Sec. Sen.
But though they jump not on a just account,-

And mine, two hundred

As in these cases, where the aim reports,
"Tis oft with difference-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!
First Off. A messenger from the galleys.

Duke.

Enter a Sailor.

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Now, what's the business?

Sail. 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 Sen.

By no assay of reason: 'tis a pageant,

This cannot be,

To keep us in false gaze. When we consider
The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk,
And let ourselves again but 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 dress'd in: if we make thought of this,
We must not think the Turk is so unskilful

To leave that latest which concerns him first,

Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain,

To wake and wage a danger profitless.

Duke. Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes.
First Off. Here is more news.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. The Ottomites, reverend and gracious,

Steering with due course towards the isle of Rhodes,

Have there injointed them with an after fleet.

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First Sen. Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess? Mess. 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?

First Sen. He's now in Florence.

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Duke. Write from us to him; post-post-haste dispatch. First Sen. Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor. Enter BRABANTIO, OTHELLO, IAGO, RODERIGO, and Officers

Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you Against the general enemy Ottoman.

[To Brabantio] I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior; We lack'd your counsel and your help to-night.

Bra. So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me; Neither my place nor aught I heard of business

Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care
Take hold on me, for my particular grief

Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature
That it engluts and swallows other sorrows
And it is still itself.

Duke.

Why, what's the matter? Bra. My daughter! O, my daughter!

Duke and Sen.

Bra.

Dead?

She is abused, stol'n from me, and corrupted

Ay, to me;

By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks;
For nature so preposterously to err,

Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,

Sans witchcraft could not.

Duke. Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding

Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself

And you of her, the bloody book of law

You shall yourself read in the bitter letter

After your own sense, yea, though our proper son
Stood in your action.

Bra.

Humbly I thank your grace.

Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems,

Your special mandate for the state-affairs

Hath hither brought.

Duke and Sen. We are very sorry for❜t.

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Duke. [To Othello] What, in your own part, can you say to this?

Bra. Nothing, but this is so.

Oth. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,

My very noble and approved good masters,

That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,

It is most true; true, I have married her:
The very head and front of my offending

Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace:
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used

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Their dearest action in the tented field,
And little of this great world can I speak,

More than pertains to feats of broil and battle,
And therefore little shall I grace my cause

In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience, I will a round unvarnish'd taie deliver

Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms, What conjuration and what mighty magic,

For such proceeding I am charged withal,

I won his daughter.

A maiden never bold;

Bra.
Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion
Blush'd at herself; and she, in spite of nature,
Of years, of country, credit, every thing,
To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on!
It is a judgement maim'd and most imperfect
That will confess perfection so could err
Against all rules of nature, and must be driven
To find out practices of cunning hell,
Why this should be. I therefore vouch again
That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
Or with some dram conjured to this effect,
He wrought upon her.

Duke.

To vouch this, is no proof,

Without more wider and more overt test
Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods
Of modern seeming do prefer against him.
First Sen. But, Othello, speak:

Did you by indirect and forced courses

Subdue and poison this young maid's affections?
Or came it by request and such fair question
As soul to soul affordeth?

Oth.

I do beseech you,

Send for the lady to the Sagittary,

And let her speak of me before her father:
If you do find me foul in her report,
The trust, the office I do hold of you,

Not only take away, but let your sentence
Even fall upon my life.

Duke.

Fetch Desdemona hither.

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Oth. Ancient, conduct them: you best know the place. [Exeunt Iago and Attendants.

And, till she come, as truly as to heaven

I do confess the vices of my blood,
So justly to your grave ears I'll present
How I did thrive in this fair lady's love,
And she in mine.

Duke. Say it, Othello.

Oth. Her father loved me; oft invited me; Still question'd me the story of my life,

From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have pass'd.

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I ran it through, even from my boyish days,

To the very moment that he bade me tell it;
Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field,

Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly breach,
Of being taken by the insolent foe

And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence
And portance in my travels' history:
Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle,

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Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touc

heaven,

It was my hint to speak,-such was the process;

And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear
Would Desdemona seriously incline:

But still the house-affairs would draw her thence:
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
She'ld come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse: which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
But not intentively. I did consent,
And often did beguile her of her tears,

When I did speak of some distressful stroke

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That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,

She gave me for my pains a world of sighs:

She swore, in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange, 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful:

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She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd

And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,

That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me,

I should but teach him how to tell my story,

And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:
She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd,

And I loved her that she did pity them.

This only is the witchcraft I have used:

Here comes the lady; let her witness it.

Enter DESDEMONA, IAGO, and Attendants. Duke. I think this tale would win my daughter too.

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