SCENE III.

Venice.

A Council Chamber.

The DUKE, GRATIANO, LODOVICO, Seven other SENATORS, and MARCO, in waiting, discovered. Duke. There is no composition in these news, That gives them credit.

Gra. Indeed they are disproportioned;
My letters say, a hundred and seven gallies.
Duke. And mine, a hundred and forty.
Lod. And mine, two hundred :

But though they jump not on a just account,
Yet do they all confirm

A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.
Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to judgment,

Enter PAULO and a SAILOR.

Paul. A messenger from the gallies.
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?
Lod. This cannot be,

By no assay of reason;

To keep us in false gaze.

'tis a pageant,

Paul. Here is more news.

Enter a MESsenger,

Mess. The Ottomites, reverend and gracious,

Steering with due course towards the isle of Rhodes, Have there enjointed them with an after-fleet.

[Gives Letters to MARCO, who delivers them to the DUKE.

Lod. How many, as you guess?

Mess. Of thirty sail: and now they do re-stem Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance 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.

Lod. Here comes Brabantio, and the valiant Moor.

Enter BRABANTIO, OTHELLO, CASSIO, IAGO, RoDERIGO, GIOVANNI, and LUCA.

[Exeunt SAILOR and MESSEnger. Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ

you

Against the general enemy Ottoman.

I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior;
We lack'd your council 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 raised 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,
That it engluts and swallows other sorrows,
And it is still itself.

Duke. Why, what's the matter?

Bra. My daughter! O, my daughter!
Duke. Dead?

Bra. Ay, to me;

She is abused, stol'n from me, and corrupted

By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks:
For nature so preposterously to err,

Sans witchcraft could not

Duke. Whoe'er he be, that in this foul proceeding Hath thus beguiled 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. We are very sorry for't.

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 approved good masters,That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, It is most true; true, I have marry'd 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 used
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 unvarnished tale deliver

Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magic,

(For such proceedings am I charged withal) I won his daughter with.

Bra. A maiden never bold;

Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion
Blushed 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 :-

I therefore vouch again,

That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
Or with some dram conjured to this effect,
He wrought upon her.

Duke. To vouch this is no proof.

Othello, speak;

Did you, by indirect and forced courses,
Subdue and poison this young maid's affections?
Or came it by request, and such fair question
As soul to soul affordeth?

Oth. I do beseech you,

Send for the lady to the Sagittar,

And let her speak of me before her father: you do find me foul in her report,

If

The trust, the office, I do hold of you,

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

Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither.

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

[Exeunt IAGO, RODERIGO, LUCA, and GIOVANNI. 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 loved 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 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the insolent foe,

And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
And with it all my travel's history:

Wherein of antres vast, and desarts idle,

Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven,

It was my hint to speak,-such was my process,-
And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders.-This to hear,
Would Desdemona seriously incline:

But still the house affairs would draw her thence;
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
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 wond'rous 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;

And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,

I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I spake :
She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd;

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