Neither my place, nor aught I heard of bufinefs,
Hath rais'd me from my bed; nor doth the general
Take hold on me: For my particular grief
Is of fo flood-gate and o'er-bearing nature,
That it ingluts and swallows other forrows,
And yet is ftill itself.

Duke. Why? what's the matter?

Bra. My daughter! oh, my daughter!--
Sen. Dead?

Bra. To me;

She is abus'd, ftolen from me, and corrupted
By spells and medicines, bought of mountebanks
For nature fo prepofterously to err,

(Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,)
Sans Witchcraft could not

;

Duke. Who-e'er he be, that in this foul proceeding Hath thus beguil'd your daughter of her self,

And you of her, the bloody book of law

You fhall your felf read in the bitter letter,

After your own fenfe; 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 fpecial mandate, for the State-affairs,

Hath hither brought.

All. We're very forry for't.

Duke. What in your own part can you fay to this?

Bra. Nothing, but this is fo.

[To Othel.

Oth. Moft potent, grave, and reverend figniors,
My very noble and approv'd 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 blefs'd with the foft phrase of peace;
For fince these arms of mine had feven years' Pith,
'Till now, fome nine moons wafted, they have us'd
Their deareft action in the tented field;
And little of this great world can I speak,
L 3

More

More than pertains to feats of broils and battle;
And therefore little fhall I grace my caufe,
In fpeaking for my felf. Yet, by your patience,
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver,

Of my whole courfe of love; what drugs, what charms,
What conjuration, and what mighty magick,

For fuch proceeding I am charg'd withal,) won his daughter with.

Bra. A maiden, never bold;

Of fpirit fo ftill and quiet, that her motion
Blush'd at it felf; and the, in fpight of nature,
Of years, of country, credit, every thing,
To fall in love with what fhe fear'd to look on
It is a judgment maim'd, and moft imperfect, (8)
That will confefs, Affection so could err
Against all rules of nature; and must be driven
To find out practices of cunning hell,

Why this fhould be. I therefore vouch again,
That with fome mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
Or with fome dram, conjur'd to this effect,
He wrought upon her.

Duke. To vouch this, is no proof,
Without more certain and more overt teft,

(8) It is a Fudgment maim'd and most imperfect

That will confefs, Perfection so could err

Against all Rules of Nature.] Perfection erring, feems a Contradiction in Terminis, as the Schoolmen call it. Befides, Brabantio does not blazon his Daughter out for a Thing of abfolute Perfection; he only fays, he was indued with fuch an extreme innate Modefty, that for her to fall in Love so prepofterously, no found Judgment could allow, but it must be by magical Practice upon her. I have ventur❜d to imagine that our Author wrote;

That will confefs, Affection fo could err, &c.

This is entirely confonant to what Brabantio would say of her; and one of the Senators, immediately after, in his Éxamination of the Moor, thus addreffes himself to him;

But, Othello, fpeak ;

Did you by indirect and forced Courfes

Subdue and poifen this young Maid's Affections, &c.

Than

Than these thin habits and poor likely hoods
Of modern Seeming do prefer against him.
I Sen. But, Othello, fpeak;

Did you by indirect and forced courfes

Subdue and poifon this young maid's affections?
Or came it by request, and fuch fair question
As foul to foul affordeth?

Oth. I beseech you,

Send for the lady to the Sagittary,

And let her fpeak of me before her father;
If you do find me foul in her report,
The Truft, the Office, I do hold of

you,

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

Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither.

[Exeunt two or three.

[Exit Iago.

Oth. Ancient, conduct them, you best know the place.

And 'till she come, as truly as to heav'n
I do confefs the vices of my blood,
So juftly to your grave ears I'll prefent
How I did thrive in this fair lady's love,
And the in mine.

Duke. Say it, Othello.

Oth. Her father lov'd me, oft invited me; Still queftion'd me the ftory of my life, From

year to year; the battles, fieges, fortunes, That I have past.

I ran it through, e'en from my boyish days,
To th' very moment that he bad me tell it :
Wherein I fpoke of most difaftrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field;

Of hair-breadth fcapes in th' imminent deadly breach
Of being taken by the infolent foe,

And fold to flavery; of my redemption thence,
And portance in my travel's hiftory:

Wherein of antres vaft, and defarts idle, (9)

Rough

(9) Wherein of Antres vast and Defarts idle, &c.] Thus it is in all the old Editions: But Mr. Pope has thought fit to change

L 4

the

Rough quarries, rocks, and hills, whofe heads touch

heav'n,

It was my hint to speak; fuch was the process;
And of the Canibals that each other eat,

The Anthropophagi; and men whofe heads
Do grow

beneath their fhoulders. All these to hear Would Desdemona ferioufly incline;

But ftill the house-affairs would draw her thence,
Which ever as the could with hafte dispatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my difcourfe: which I obferving,
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 fhe had fomething heard,
But not diftinctively: I did confent,
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did fpeak of some distressful stroke
That my youth fuffer'd. My ftory being done,
She
me
gave for my pains a world of fighs:

She wore," In faith, 'twas ftrange, 'twas paffing

ftrange,

fhe wish'd,

"'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful" She wish'd, fhe had not heard it; That heav'n had made her fuch a man: fhe thank'd me,

yet

And bad me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,
I fhould but teach him how to tell my ftory,
And that would woo her. On this hint I spake,
She lov'd me for the dangers I had past,

And I lov'd her, that she did pity them:

But he must pardon me,

the Epithet. Defarts idle; in the former Editions; (fays he,) doubtless, a Corruption from wilde.if I do not concur in thinking this fo doubtless. I don't know whether Mr. Pope has obferv'd it, but I know that Shakespeare, efpecially in Defcriptions, is fond of ufing the more uncommen Word, in a poetick Latitude. And idle, in several other Paffages, he employs in thefe Acceptations, wild, useless, uncultivated, &c.

This only is the witchcraft I have us'd.
Here comes the lady, let her witness it.

Enter Desdemona, Iago, and Attendants.

Bake. I think, this tale would win my daughter tooGood Brabantio,

Take up this mangled matter at the best.
Men do their broken weapons rather use,
Than their bare hands.

Bra. I pray you, hear her fpeak;
If the confefs that fhe was half the wooer,
Destruction on my head, if my bad blame
Light on the man! Come hither, gentle mistress,
Do you perceive in all this noble company,
Where you moft owe obedience?

Def. My noble father,

I do perceive here a divided duty;

To you I'm bound for life and education :
My life and education both do learn me

How to refpect you. You're the lord of duty;
I'm hitherto your daughter. But here's my husband:
And fo much duty as my mother shew'd
To you, preferring you before her father;
So much I challenge, that I may profess
Due to the Moor, my lord.

Bra. God be with you: I have done.
Please it your Grace, on to the State-affairs;
I had rather to adopt a child, than get it.
Come hither, Moor:

I here do give thee That with all my heart,
Which, but thou haft already, with all my heart
I would keep from thee. For your fake, jewel,
I'm glad at foul I have no other child;

For thy escape would teach me tyranny,

To hang clogs on them. I have done, my

lord.

Duke. Let me fpeak like your felf; and lay a fentence,
Which, as a grife, or ftep, may help these lovers
Into your favour

When remedies are paft, the griefs are ended
By feeing the worft, which late on hopes depended.