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, With his free duty, recommends you thus, Duke. 'Tis certain then for Cyprus.- 1 Sen. He's now in Florence. 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 me; for my particular grief Is of so flood-gate and o'er-bearing nature, 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: Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense, Duke. Whoe'er he be, that, in this foul pro ceeding, 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. Rude am I in my speech, And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace; And little of this great world can I speak, 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; C Without more certain and more overt test, 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, 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. 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 How I did thrive in this fair lady's love, 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, I ran it through, even from my boyish days, Of hair-breadth scapes i'the imminent deadly breach; And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence, Wherein of antres vast, and desarts idle, Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, It was my hint to speak, such was the process; Would Desdemona seriously incline: But still the house affairs would draw her thence; Devour up my discourse: Which I observing, And often did beguile her of her tears, '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 me; |