Oth. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them. Good signior, you shall more command with years, Than with your weapons. Bra. O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her: Hold your hands, Both you of my inclining, and the rest: Were my cue to fight, I should have known it Without a prompter.-Where will you that I go To answer this your charge? Bra Of law, and course of direct session, Call the to answer. To prison till fit time What if I do obey? How may the duke be therewith satisfied; (1) To terrify, not delight. of The duke's in council; and noble self, I am sure, is sent for. 'Tis true, most worthy signior, your Bra. Cannot but feel this wrong, as 'twere their own: [Exeunt SCENE III.-The same. A council-chamber. The Duke, and Senators, sitting at a table; Of ficers attending. Duke. There is no composition2 in these news, 'That gives them credit. 1 Sen. Indeed, they are disproportion'd; My letters say, a hundred and seven galleys. Duke. And mine, a hundred and forty. 2 Sen. And mine, two hundred But though they jump not on a just account (As in these cases, where the aim3 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 judgment; 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! Enter an Officer, with a Sailor. Off. A messenger from the galleys. Duke. Now? 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? (1) The pagans and bond-slaves of Africa. (2) Consistency. (3) Conjecture. 1 Sen. This cannot be, By no assay of reason; 'tis a pageant, To keep us in false gaze: When we consider 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; Duke. Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes. 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. 1 Sen. Ay, so I thought :-How many, as you guess? Mess. Oi thirty sail: and now do they re-stem Their backward course, bearing with frank ap pearance Their purposes towards 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 Lucchesé, is he not in town? 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. (1) Easy dispute. (2) State of defence. (3) Combat. 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 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 pro ceeding, Hath thus beguil'd your daughter of herself, You shall yourself read in the bitter letter, After your own sense; yea, though our proper son Stood in Bra. your action.2 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. (1) Without. (2) Accusation Duke & Sen. We are very sorry for it. Duke. What, in your own part, can you say to *[To Othello. 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 iny 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 patience, I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magic (For such proceeding I am charg'd withal,) I won his daughter with. Bra. A maiden never bold; Why this should be. I therefore vouch again, (1) Best exertion. |