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1 Sen. Ay, so I thought:—How many, as you
guess ? Mes. Of thirty sail: and now do they re-stem Their backward course, bearing with frank ap
pearance 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.-
1 Sen. He's now in Florence.
Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Roderigo, and
[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 me; for my particular grief
Is of so flood-gate and o'er-bearing nature,
Why, what's the matter?
Ay, to me; She is abus’d, stoľ’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 notDuke. Whoe'er he be, that, in this foul pro
ceeding, Hath thus beguild 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?
[To Othello. Bra. Nothing, but this is so.
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.
Rude am I in my speech, And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace; For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, Till now some nine moons wasted, they have us’d 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 pa
: tience, I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what
charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magick, (For such proceeding I am charg’d withal,) I won his daughter with. Bra.
A maiden never bold; 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 judgment 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 conjur'd to this effect, He wrought upon her. Duke.
To vouch this, is no proof;
Without more certain and more overt test,
1 Sen. But, Othello, speak;-
I do beseech you,
Fetch Desdemona hither. Oth. Ancient, conduct them; you best know the
place.- [E.reunt 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 lov'd 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. 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 scapesi'the imminent deadly breach;
hear, Would Desdemona seriously incline: But still the house affairs would draw her thence; Which ever as she could with haste despatch, She'd 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, 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: She wish’d, she had not heard it; yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd