Enter an Officer, with a Sailor. Of. A messenger from the gallies. Duke. Now? the business? Sailor. 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? 1 Sen. This cannot be, By no assay of reason 1; 'tis a pageant, To keep us in false gaze: When we consider That, as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes, That Rhodes is dress'd in :-if we make thought of this, We must not think, the Turk is so unskilful, To wake, and wage,8 a danger profitless. Duke. Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes. Off. Here is more news. Enter a Messenger. Mess. The Ottomites, reverend and gracious, Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes, Have there injointed them with an after fleet. Easy dispute. 7 State of defence. 8 Combat. Scene III. THE MOOR OF VENICE. 297 1 Sen. Ay, so I thought:-How many, as you guess? Mess. Of thirty sail: and now do they re-stem Their backward course, bearing with frank appear ance Their purposes toward Cyprus.-Signior Montano, Duke. 'Tis certain then for Cyprus.— Duke. Write from us; wish him post-post-haste: despatch. 1 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. I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior; [To BRABANTIO. 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 rais'd me from my bed; nor doth the general care Take hold on mé; for my particular grief And it is still itself. Duke. Why, what's the matter? Bra. My daughter! O, my daughter! Sen. Bra. Dead? Ay, to me; She is abus'd, stol'n from me, and corrupted 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 proceed ing, Hath thus beguil'd 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 & Sen. We are very sorry for it. Duke. What, in your own part, can you say to this? Bra. Nothing but this is so. [TO OTHELLO. Oth. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, 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. 9 Without. Rude am I in my speech, ■ Accusation. And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace; And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle; In speaking for myself: Yet, by your gracious patience, I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magick, Bra. A maiden never bold; Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion Why this should be, I therefore vouch again, He wrought upon her. Duke. To vouch this, is no proof; Without more certain and more overt test,3 Than these thin habits, and poor likelihoods Of modern seeming, do prefer against him. 1 Sen. But, Othello, speak; - Did you by indirect and forced courses Subdue and poison this young maid's affections? Oth. I do beseech you, Send for the lady to the Sagittary,5 And let her speak of me before her father: The trust, the office, I do hold of you, Not only take away, but let your sentence Duke. upon my life. Fetch Desdemona hither. 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 Duke. Say it, Othello. Oth. Her father lov'd me; oft invited me; From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes, I ran it through, even from my boyish days, 4 Weak show. 5 The sign of the fictitious creature so called. |