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Bra. How! the duke in council! In this time of the night!-Bring him away: Mine's not an idle cause: the duke himself, Or any of my brothers of the state, Cannot but feel this wrong, as 'twere their own: For if such actions may have passage free, Bond-slaves, and pagans,' shall our statesmen be.

1 Sen. Here comes Brabantio, and the valiant Moor.

Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Roderigo, and Officers.

Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you


[Exeunt. Against the general enemy Ottoman. SCENE III.-The same. A council-chamber. I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior; The Duke, and Senators, silling at a table; Of We lack'd your counsel and your help to-night. ficers attending. Bra. So did I yours: Good your grace, pardon me;

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.

Neither my place, nor aught I heard of business, Hath rais'd me from my bed; nor doth the general


Take hold on me; for my particular grief
Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature,
That it engluts and swallows other sorrows,
And it is still itself.


Why, what's the matter? Bra. My daughter! O, my daughter! Dead? Ay, to me;



She is abus'd, stol'n from me and corrupted
By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks:

Sailor. [Within.] What ho! what ho! what ho! For nature so preposterously to err,

Enter an Officer, with a Sailor.

Off. A messenger from the galleys.


Now? the business?

Being not deficient, blind or lame of sense,
Sans witchcraft could not-

Duke. Whoe'er he be, that, in this foul pro-

Sail. The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes; Hath thus beguil'd your daughter of herself, 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; 'tis a pageant,
To keep us in false gaze: When we consider
The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk;
And let ourselves again but understand,

That, as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,
So may he with more facile question bear it,
For that it stands not in such warlike brace,
But altogether lacks the abilities

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;
Neglecting an attempt of case and gain,
To wake, and wage, a danger profitless.
Duke. Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes.
Off. Here is more news.

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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.


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.

Duke. What, in your own part, can you say to [To Othello.


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 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 patience,

I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver
Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what

What conjuration, and what mighty magic
(For such proceeding I am charged withal,)
I won his daughter with.

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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.

To vouch this, is no proof;
Without more certain and more overt test,1
Than these thin habits, and poor likelihoods
Of modern seeming,2 do prefer against him.
1 Sen. But, 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?


I do beseech you, Send for the lady to the Sagittary," And let her speak of me before her father: If you do find me foul in her report, The trust, the office, I do hold of you, Not only take away, but let your sentence Even fall 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
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, sicges, 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 spoke 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 portance in my travel's history:
Wherein of antres" vast, and deserts idle,

Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch


It was my hint to speak, such was the process; And of the cannibals that each other eat,

The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads

'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;

And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I spake :
She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd;
And I lov'd her, that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have us'd;
Here comes the lady, let her witness it.

Enter Desdemona, Iago, and Attendants. Duke. I think this tale would win my daughter

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And so much duty as my mother show'd
To you, preferring you before her father,
So much I challenge that I may profess
Due to the Moor, my lord.

God be with you!-I have done:-
Please it your grace, on to the state-affairs;
I had rather to adopt a child, than get it.-
Come hither, Moor:

I here do give thee that with all my heart,
Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart
I would keep from thee-For your sake, jewel,
I am glad at soul I have no other child;
For thy escape would teach me tyranny,
To hang clogs on them.-I have done, my lord.
Duke. Let me speak like yourself; and lay a


Which, as a grise, or step, may help these lovers Into your favour.

When remedies are past, the griefs are ended,

Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things to By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.


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 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

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To mourn a mischief that is past and gone,
Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
What cannot be preserv'd, when fortune takes,
Patience her injury a mockery makes.

The robb'd, that smiles, steals something from the thief;

He robs himself, that spends a bootless grief.
Bra. So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile;
We lose it not, so long as we can smile.
He bears the sentence well, that nothing bears
But the free comfort which from thence he hears:
But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow,
That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow.
These sentences, to sugar, or to gall,
Being strong on both sides, are equivocal:
But words are words; I never yet did hear,
That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear.

(7) Intention and attention were once synonymous, (8) Grise from degrees.

(9) i. e. That the wounds of sorrow were ever cured by the words of consolation.


I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state. With such things else of quality and respect, Duke. The Turk with a most mighty preparation As doth import you. makes for Cyprus :-Othello, the fortitude of the Oth. Please your grace, my ancient; place is best known to you: And though we have A man he is of honesty and trust: there a substitute of most allowed sufficiency, yet To his conveyance I assign my wife, opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws a With what else needful your good grace shall think more safer voice on you: you must therefore be To be sent after me. content to slubber' the gloss of your new fortunes Duke. Let it be so.with this more stubborn and boisterous expedition. Good night to every one.-And, noble signior, [To Brabantio.

Oth. The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My thrice-driven bed of down: I do agnize2
A natural and prompt alacrity,

I find in hardness; and do undertake
These present wars against the Ottomites.
Most humbly therefore bending to your state,
I crave fit disposition for my wife;
Due reference of place, and exhibition;3
With such accomodation, and besort,
As levels with her breeding.


Be't at her father's.


If you please,

I'll not have it so.

Oth. Nor I. Des. Nor I; I would not there reside, To put my father in impatient thoughts, By being in his eye. Most gracious duke, To my unfolding lend a gracious ear, And let me find a charter in your voice, To assist my simpleness.

Duke. What would you, Desdemona ?

Des. That I did love the Moor to live with him,
My downright violence and storm of fortunes
May trumpet to the world; my heart's subdued
Even to the very quality of my lord:

I saw Othello's visage in his mind;
And to his honours, and his valiant parts,
Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.
So that, dear lords, if I be left behind,
A moth of peace, and he go to the war,
The rites, for which I love him, are bereft me,
And I a heavy interim shall support

By his dear absence: Let me go with him.
Oth. Your voices, lords :-'beseech you, let her will
Have a free way.

Vouch with me, heaven; I therefore beg it not,
To please the palate of my appetite;
Nor to comply with heat, the young affects,4
In my distinct and proper satisfaction;
But to be free and bounteous to her mind:
And heaven defends your good souls, that you think
I will your serious and great business scant,
For she is with me: No, when light-wing'd toys
Of feather'd Cupid seel" with wanton dulness
My speculative and active instruments,

That my disports corrupt and taint my business,
Let housewifes make a skillets of my helm,"
And all indign and base adversities
Make head against my estimation!

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Duke. Be it as you shall privately determine, Either for her stay, or going: the affair cries-haste, And speed must answer it; you must hence to-night. Des. To-night, my lord? Duke.

This night.

With all my heart.
Duke. At nine i'the morning here we'll meet

Othello, leave some officer behind,

And he shall our commission bring to you;

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(9) Helmet.

(7) Blind.

If virtue no delighted beauty lack,
Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.
1 Sen. Adieu, brave Moor! use Desdemona well.
Bra. Look to her, Moor; have a quick eye to see;
She has deceiv'd her father, and may thee.

[Exeunt Duke, Senators, Officers, &c.
Oth. My life upon her faith.-Honest Iago,
My Desdemona must I leave to thee;
I pr'ythee, let thy wife attend on her;
And bring them after in the best advantage.-
Come, Desdemona; I have but an hour
Of love, of worldly matters and direction,
To spend with thee: we must obey the time.
[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona.
Rod. Iago.

Iago. What say'st thou, noble heart?
Rod. What will I do, thinkest thou?
Iago. Why, go to bed and sleep.

Rod. I will incontinently 10 drown myself.

Iago. Well, if thou dost, I shall never love thee after it. Why, thou silly gentleman!

Rod. It is silliness to live, when to live is a torment: and then have we a prescription to die, when death is our physician.

Iago. O villanous! I have looked upon the world for four times seven years; and since I could distinguish between a benefit and an injury, I never found a man that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say, I would drown myself for the love of a Guinea-hen, I would change my humanity with a baboon.

Rod. What should I do? I confess, it is my shame to be so fond; but it is not in virtue to amend it.

Iago. Virtue? a fig! 'tis in ourselves, that we are thus, or thus. Our bodies are our gardens; to the which, our wills are gardeners: so that if we will plant nettles, or sow lettuce; set hyssop, and weed up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs, or distract it with many; either to have it steril with idleness, or manured with industry; why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills. If the balance of our lives had not one scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us to most preposterous conclusions: But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted2 lust; whereof I take this, that you calllove, to be a sect, 13 or scion.

Iago. It is merely a lust of the blood, and a permission of the will. Come, be a man: Drown thyself? drown cats, and blind puppies. I have professed me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness; I could never better stead thee than now. money in thy purse; follow these wars; defeat thy favour with an usurped beard;14 I say, put money in thy purse. It cannot be, that Desdemona should long continue her love to the Moor,-put money in


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1 Gent. Nothing at all: it is a high-wrought flood; cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main, Descry a sail.


Mon. Methinks, the wind hath spoke aloud at land:

thy purse; nor he his to her: it was a violent com-
mencement, and thou shalt see an answerable
sequestration;-put but money in thy purse.
These Moors are changeable in their wills;-fill
thy purse with money: the food that to him now is
as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as bit- A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements :
ter as coloquintida. She must change for youth: If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea,
when she is sated with his body, she will find the What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,
error of her choice.-She must have change, she Can hold the mortise? what shall we hear of this?
must therefore put money in thy purse.-If thou 2 Gen. A segregation of the Turkish fleet:
wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way For do but stand upon the foaming shore,
than drowning. Make all the money thou canst: The chiding billow seems to pelt the clouds ;
If sanctimony and a frail vow, betwixt an erring' The wind-shak'd surge, with high and monstrous
barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian, be not too
hard for my wits, and all the tribe of hell, thou Seems to cast water on the burning bear,"
shalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A pox of And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole:
drowning thyself! it is clean out of the way; seek I never did like molestation view
thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy, On th' enchafed flood.
than to be drowned and go without her.
If that the Turkish fleet
Be not inshelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd;
It is impossible they bear it out.

Rod. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue?

Enter a third Gentleman.

lago. Thou art sure of me ;-Go, make money: -I have told thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I hate the Moor: My cause is hearted: 3 Gent. News, lords! our wars are done; thine hath no less reason: Let us be conjunctive in The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks, our revenge against him: if thou canst cuckold That their designment halts: A noble ship of Venice him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, and me a sport. Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance There are many events in the womb of time, which On most part of their fleet. will be delivered. Traverse; go; provide thy money. We will have more of this to-morrow. Adieu.

Rod. Where shall we meet i'the morning?
Iago. At my lodging.

Rod. I'll be with thee betimes.

Iago. Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo ?
Rod. What say you?

your purse.

Iago. No more of drowning, do you hear?
Rod. I am changed. I'll sell all my land.
Iago. Go to; farewell: put money enough in
[Exit Roderigo.
Thus do I ever make my fool my purse:
For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane,
If I would time expend with such a snipe,
But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor:
And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets
He has done my office: I know not if't be true;
But I, for mere suspicion in that kind,

Will do, as if for surety. He holds me well;
The better shall my purpose work on him.
Cassio's a proper man: Let me see now;
To get his place, and to plume up my will;
A double knavery,-How? how?-Let me see :-
After some time, to abuse Othello's ear,
That he is too familiar with his wife :-
He hath a person, and a smooth dispose,
To be suspected; fram'd to make women false.
The Moor is of a free and open nature,

That thinks men honest that but seem to be so ;
And will as tenderly be led by the nose,
As asses are.

I have't;-it is engender'd :-Hell and night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.

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How! is this true?

3 Gent. The ship is here put in,
A Veronesé; Michael Cassio,
Lieutenant to the warlike Moor, Othello,
Is come on shore: the Moor himself's at sea,
And is in full commission here for Cyprus.

Mon. I am glad on't; tis a worthy governor.
3 Gent. But this same Cassio,-though he speak

of comfort,

Touching the Turkish loss,-yet he looks sadly,
And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted
With foul and violent tempest.
'Pray heaven he be;
For I have serv'd him, and the man commands
Like a full soldier. Let's to the sea-side, ho!
As well to see the vessel that's come in,
As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello;
Even till we make the main, and the aerial blue,
An indistinct regard.

3 Gent.

Come, let's do so;
For every minute is expectancy
Of more arrivance.

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Cas. What noise?

4 Gent. The town is empty: on the brow o' the sea

Stand ranks of people, and they cry-a sail.

Cas. My hopes do shape him for the governor.
2 Gent. They do discharge their shot of courtesy;
[Guns heard.

The constellation near the polar star.

(6) Complete.

(7) Allowed and approved expertness.


Our friends, at least.

I pray you, sir, go forth, And give us truth who 'tis that is arriv'd.

2 Gent. I shall. [Exil. Mon. But, good lieutenant, is your general wiv'd? Cas. Most fortunately: he hath achiev'd a maid That paragons description, and wild fame; One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens, And, in the essential vesture of creation, Does bear all excellency.-How now? who has put in?

Re-enter second Gentleman.

2 Gent. 'Tis one lago, ancient to the general.
Cas. He has had most favourable and happy speed:
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
The gutter'd rocks, and congregated sands,-
Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless knell,-
As having sense of beauty, do omit

Their mortal' natures, letting go safely by
The divine Desdemona.


What is she?

Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,
Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your

Des. O, fie upon thee, slanderer!
Jago. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk;
You rise to play, and go to bed to work.
Emil. You shall not write my praise.

No, let me not. Des. What would'st thou write of me, if thou should'st praise me?

Iago. O gentle lady, do not put me to't;
For I am nothing, if not critical.'

Des. Come on, assay :-There's one gone to the

Iago. Ay, madam.

Des. I am not merry; but I do beguile
The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.-
Come, how would'st thou praise me?

lago. I am about it; but, indeed, my invention
Comes from my pate, as birdlime does from frize,
It plucks out brains and all: But my muse labours,
And thus she is delivered.

Cas. She that I spake of, our great captain's If she be fair and wise,-fairness, and wit,


Left in the conduct of the bold Iago;

Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts,

A se'nnight's speed.-Great Jove, Othello guard,
And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath;
That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,
Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms,
Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits,
And bring all Cyprus comfort!-O, behold,

The one's for use, the other useth it.

Des. Well prais'd! How if she be black and witty? Iago. If she be black, and thereto have a wit, She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.

Des. Worse and worse.

Emil. How, if fair and foolish?

lago. She never yet was foolish that was fair; For even her folly help'd her to an heir.

Des. These are old fond paradoxes, to make

Enter Desdemona, Emilia, lago, Roderigo, and fools laugh i'the alehouse. What miserable praise


The riches of the ship is come on shore!
Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees ;-
Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven,
Before, behind thee, and on every hand,
Enwheel thee round!

I thank you, valiant Cassio.
What tidings can you tell me of my lord?
Cas. He is not yet arriv'd; nor know I aught
But that he's well, and will be shortly here.

Des. O, but I feart-how lost you company?
Cas. The great contention of the sea and skies
Parted our fellowship: But, hark! a sail.

[Cry within, A sail, a sail! Then guns heard. 2 Gent. They give their greeting to the citadel; This likewise is a friend.


See for the news.-
[Exit Gentleman.
Good ancient, you are welcome ;-Welcome, mis-
[To Emilia.
Let it not gall your patience, good lago,
That I extend my manners; 'tis my breeding
That gives me this bold show of courtesy.

[Kissing her.
Iage. Sir, would she give you so much of her lips,
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
You'd have enough.


Alas, she has no speech.

Iago. In faith, too much;

I find it still, when I have list2 to sleep,
Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,
She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking.
You have little cause to say so.
Iago. Come on, come on; you are pictures out
of doors,

Bells in your parlours, wild cats in your kitchens,

(1) Deadly, destructive.

(3) Censorious.

(2) Desire. (4) Foolish.

hast thou for her that's foul and foolish?

Iago. There's none so foul and foolish thereunto, But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.

Des. O heavy ignorance!-thou praisest the worst best. But what praise could'st thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed? one that, in the authority of her merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?

Iago. She that was ever fair, and never proud;
Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud;
Never lack'd gold, and yet went never gay;
Fled from her wish, and yet said,-now I may;
She that, being anger'd, her revenge being nigh,
Bade her wrong stay, and her displeasure fly;
She, that in wisdom never was so frail,

To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail;
She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind,
See suitors following, and not look behind;
She was a wight,-if ever such wight were,-
Des. To do what?

Iago. To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer. Des. O most lame and impotent conclusion!-Do not learn of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. -How say you, Cassio! is he not a most profane and liberal counsellor?

Cas. He speaks home, madam; you may relish him more in the soldier, thau in the scholar.

Iago. [Aside.] He takes her by the palm: Ay, well said, whisper: with as little a web as this, will I ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon her, do; I will gyve thee in thine own courtship. You say true; 'tis so, indeed: if such tricks as these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had been better you had not kissed your three fingers so oft, which now again you are most apt to play the sir in." Very good; well kissed an excellent courtesy! 'tis so, indeed. Yet again, your fingers to

(7) Your good-breeding and gallantry.
(8) Courtesy, in the sense of obeisance, was ap-

(5) Licentious, free-spoken. (6) Shackle, fetter.plied to men as well as women.

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